“Most anyone who is familiar with Kumbh Mela, Hinduism or yoga culture, knows what is a naga baba, very few even know that female ascetics exist.” – Nicole Jaquis, when asked by the male members of Juna Akhara, why she is only giving cameras to the women?
In 2010 I returned to the Kumbh Mela in Haridwar, to reconnect with these women, follow-up with a second round of print giveaways, camera introduction / instruction and narrow down which of the women will continue to participate in the video production portion of program after the festival.
This year not only was I quite particular to whom I was giving cameras (very few to male sadhus), I was even more organized and scheduled particular dates for giving out cameras determined by specific events occurring during the mela, such as sanskar (initiation rites) or sahi snaan (holy bath) processions. I spent the first month giving away photos and DVDs from 2004 and 2007 and what seemed like just hanging around (spending time with them, getting re-acquainted with old friends or getting to know new women with whom I have not spent time before). With so many maiyon (knowing my plan) expecting cameras from me and with my limited supply, I had to carefully calculate and make a list to whom I planned to distribute the cameras. I only had 56 disposable cameras and 10 others (a mix of digital and 35mm point and shoots. By the approach of mens and womens’ sanskar and the 2nd bathing day in March did I begin to distribute. I gave the few digital and 35mm point and shoot cameras to those who already had prior experience (in 2007) and also further narrowed the list down to those who’s eyes were good (those whose photos were among the best of the lot). Then I gave the remaining (including the disposables) to the Shri Mahants and worked my way down the ladder, so to speak. I would also limit how many cameras I would carry with me to the mai varda (women’s camp) at one time, leaving the rest of the stash in my room (the office) for later distribution dates (second and third rounds of initiation and future bathing days). As the mela weeks passed I began to give cameras to those “new” sanyasinis who had just taken initiation, to see the Mela through their “fresh-eyes”.
However it never ceases to amaze me how much surrendering to the flow plays a big part in life in India, among the ascetics, and especially at the Kumbh Mela. Each time I come to the Mela I release more and more of what my Western-up-bringing deems responsible, in terms of preparation, planning, or pre-production (along the lines of filmmaking). Being a teacher in NYC I am expected to draft lesson plans, daily time tables, weekly, monthly, semester, and yearly schedules, all skills and tasks of which become useless here. Having lived on the edge of Maya Devi Mandir (a temple for worshiping the acknowledgement of all illusion in life) for the past three months and as I now step outside myself and witness how this project has unfolded itself, I can acknowledge the blurred lines between assumed failures or setbacks and that of success or the fact that everything is just happening as it is supposed to happen.
For example: The morning of the second round of women’s initiation, my mobile phone had gotten stolen out of my tent, causing me to spend the majority of the day dealing with the police station and my phone service. Along my errands I passed one Shri Mahant who began scolding me saying, “Where have you been? We’ve been calling you all morning, but you have not picked up your phone! Sanskar is happening; you should be shooting.” Luckily I had already distributed another round of cameras the day before and reminded her of this. I told her to tell those women to shoot initiation themselves, as they now have the cameras to do so. By the time I reached the ghats, by 4:30 in the late afternoon, six women approached me returning their disposable cameras, their rolls finished full with photos of the initiation. This was exactly what I had wanted to happen; it felt great to sit back and watch my “students” complete their “assignments” on their own without me. The photos they have taken always prove to be completely different than anything I or any other foreigner would have taken. My initial disappointment of loosing my phone proved insignificant and greatly overshadowed by the joy of seeing the fruits of my labor, as a photo teacher.
Getting their photos back from the store or from downloading the memory cards is amazing. Not only do I get to see all the moments I missed, had I tried to document everything on my own, but also I get to see a real sense of hierarchy within the Akhara, i.e. with whom are they goofing off and being casual, or whose feet are they touching. However giving the photos back to them is another joy, to not only witness their being satisfied with the good photos they shot, but also to witness their learning from experience, to see those few tips I told them in the beginning actually sink in, like: 1. Don’t shoot with the sun in front of you, the subject may end up in silhouette; 2. Don’t shoot inside the tent, everything may end up too dark; or 3. Watch how you hold the camera so you don’t take a photo of your fingers. These may seem like basic photography concepts, but sometimes get lost in translation (from English to Hindi to Nepali) and for some really only tend to sink in by experience. They are learning, just as I did when I first picked up a camera. What feels good for me, as a teacher, is when they don’t feel discouraged by their mistakes and ask for another camera or roll of film on which to try again.
