MASTERING UNCERTAINTY

Performance and Recognition in Religion

IT WAS SURPRISING how fast the glorious mountains with their great magnitude had receded in the horizon. The festive town of Hardwar, with its baffling mix of the evocative aura of a divine space at once ancient and timeless with a noisy, caveat emptor commercial culture, also retreated from the mind as we matched paces on the unpaved street several miles outside the town. We were part of a dense procession of participants in various shades of ochre carrying kanwa?s, with branches of the procession extending hundreds of miles in every direction, and our thoughts frequently centered on the goal and the journey ahead. K, several years younger than I, yet a veteran who had made the journey many times, advised me on the choice of footwear, luggage, and clothing. "The journey would be formidable, and the most trivial-looking choices were critical," he had warned. I must acknowledge that I was perhaps in denial of the physical challenges — since, of course, millions were accomplishing it, and I also felt confident because of my regular jogging. Nonetheless, a premonition from losing marked contests in the past committed me to explicit determination. We walked with resolve, outpacing the flow of the procession and advancing toward a group of three ahead, among the fastest and most boisterous on the trail, who were continuously yelling slogans that were answered by the chorus of fellow travelers. "We must join them," K had said; "this will keep our spirits high and make the journey much easier."

In view of my research considerations, and to provide for contingencies (I was still convalescing after a prolonged fever), we had embarked on the expected four-day journey a day in advance, targeting the libations on the fourteenth of the month of Srava?a, that is, on Sivaratri, the day of the new moon (Amavasya). Our destination was Pura Mahadeva, about ninety-five miles away, a renowned Siva temple on the banks of the Hindon River in Meerut. It was critical that we complete the journey and arrive at the shrine in time for the libations, while ensuring that the sacred kanwa? was not breached in any way. The ordeal would lose all merit if the kanwa? was breached — for example, if the containers were desecrated, fell to the ground, the water spilled, or if we failed to make it to the destination in time. Moreover, to ensure the integrity of the practice, we had to abide by a variety of stipulations regarding how the kanwa? was held, carried, rested, and worshipped.

For a veteran such as K, completing the journey was not much of a cause for concern as to accomplish it with élan. At times I thought it was almost an occasion for swagger, a sport to demonstrate his will and character in a more or less competitive sociality. At other times though K would become more solemn and reflective, haunted by his family's woes. This was not unusual. Although many would be making the journey bound by explicit vows, grateful for wishes that had been fulfilled or that they sought, the action devoted to Siva was also simultaneously a sport, a recreational activity, and an engaged enactment of serious commitments, obligations, and overwhelming anguish. Lacking any formal education, K lived an almost nomadic life — a truck helper at times, living with family or relatives at other times, or occupied with odd errands in Delhi — with scarcely a source of income. In the sociality of the Kanwar, however, as normal conventions are disrupted and where the high of the sulfa and the arch renouncer Siva (who, although the fierce Master of the world, lives in the wild in great destitution) were valorized, K held sway. K would mentor and assist me selflessly during the journey, going through it with exemplary certitude and affability.

If the pilgrimage was a chosen and familiar arena for K, for me it was novel. I was anxious about its protocols; what began as "objective" research soon took the form of a critical, in some sense inaugural, religious performance as it materialized through many conversations, rituals, and the expectations of my relatives. This added to my resolve as I matched paces with K, and we soon caught up with the group.

Ramlal was voicing the slogans, demonstrating an extraordinary aptitude for shooting out inventive, full-throated exhortations without interruption. For the most part, he sincerely hailed Siva as Bhola (Simpleton or Fool); His wife, Parvati; Ga?esa, their child; the Ganga; or Hardwar. At other times, he would be more inventive and mischievously play on the sexual innuendos of the conjugal relations between Parvati and Siva. We replied to his calls and marched ahead at a brisk pace on the banks of the Upper Ganga Canal. Carrying the kanwa?, we spoke of nothing else, maintaining an attitude of devotion and immersion in the sacred. Only during a break after several miles of walking, a couple of hours later, as we had some juice and everyone (but I) smoked sulfa would we briefly acquaint ourselves with secular concerns. The others seemed to know each other well; one was teased for already needing a muscle pain-relieving spray on his knees and ankles, even as Ramlal received accolades for his stamina and ingenuity despite his illness. He was suffering from stomachaches and loose bowels because of suspected food poisoning in Hardwar. Probably in their mid-twenties, all three were casually employed as construction laborers. Ramlal, who had been making the pilgrimage for seven or eight years, told us that he had almost forgone this year's pilgrimage for lack of money. He had asked his companions to forget about him and go on their own, but his wife would not suffer his gloom. "I was sitting at home dejected," he said, "as everyone was leaving. But suddenly my wife brought a loan of two thousand rupees [about forty dollars] and asked me to get ready immediately, because my companions were waiting outside."

This was a story I had heard very often. Every other participant had a tale to tell of leaving for the journey at the last minute after having lost all hope, against all intent and plans. It was usually because of the lack of finances or pragmatic consideration of the costs it would involve. Yet a last-minute swell would send one on the journey, an impulse that would break out of normative concerns — financial restraints, calm reasoning, the many expenditures of the adventure. Suddenly, in the manner of the immediacy of a call, desire proved irresistible, although of course in correspondence with the desires of so many others, as one saw a multitude, and many in one's circle, embark on the journey. The outcome is usually interpreted as a sign of the deity's will — unless the deity...