pre-production / production through 2013 Maha Kumbh Mela, Allahabad India

 

During the production of "Take Me to the River" in 2001, Projectile Arts set up itís first collaborating artist community. Nearly twenty of us lived and created on the second floor and rooftop of Adi Veni Madhav Mandir, a small family run temple in the village of Arail across the Sangam from Allahabad, home to the largest gathering in the History of the world, the Maha Kumbh Mela.

In 2004 Nicole Jaquis and Saugat Datta returned to the next Maha Kumbh Mela in Ujjain with the intentions of giving back to the ascetics who truly brought the film alive. Traveling from camp to camp with a laptop, projector and PA system they held free public screenings of TMTTR and trailers of other Projectile Arts works-in-progress. Furthermore, keeping stock of all the photos she took in 2001, Nicole made sure to give away prints to those with whom they reunited.

Three days into their stay at the festival and one slightly ridiculous rumor later, this Community Outreach Project spontaneously began with a select group of Sadhus, borrowing film, learning to use digital camera equipment, and eventually publishing their own photos in local newspapers.

2007

This will be trip three of this long term doc project as I plan to continue shooting through the coming Melas (this winter in Allahabad, 2010 in Haridwar and 2013 in Allahabad again), eventually the sadhvis will become the crew, shooting and interviewing each other....

As primarily a pre-production trip my immediate goals are to continue making connections with various woman gurus and sadhvis and training them to use the camera and sound equipment. My initial hook to get the sadhvis interested in participating in the project will be to set up a free portrait station in the Mai Varda (women's camp), where I will take digital portraits of the women, printing and giving them the photos on site (I'm bringing at least one portable 4x6 printer). Then I will train several sadhvis to use one of the 12+ still cameras (still collecting both digital and film) and give away 35mm film for their use (think Born into Brothels with ascetic women). I plan to collect the film, process it for them, give them the prints and keep the negatives.

On March 12th 2004, my 29th birthday, while exploring the village on the Yumuna side of the Sangam (confluence of three rivers: Ganga, Yumuna and Saraswati, in Allahabad, Uttar Pradesh, India), I fell off a bike into a ditch and tore all the major ligaments in my left knee, leaving my leg in a brace and me limping around with a bamboo stick.

Fast forward to our first day in Ujjain, Madhya Pradesh. . .

After taking our morning baths in the holy Shipra River, Saugat (a long time friend and creative partner of mine from New Delhi) and I took a seat on the steps, finding shade from the 110 degree sun, under a tree and next to a group of (mostly naked & ash covered) naga sadhus, from Juna Akhara (the largest and oldest organization of ascetics who worship Shiva). My limping up the steps and struggling to sit with my left leg in a brace was plenty to warrant attention. Almost immediately several sadhus were edging closer to us, asking what happened and who we were? Saugat was carrying the bag of equipment (digital still camera, digital video camera, 35mm still camera, mini disc recorder, microphone, headphones, dv tapes, film and mini discs). Assuming I knew less Hindi than I did, the sadhus began to ask Saugat who he was in relation to me, "Are you her guide or her bodyguard?" We joked and said we were brother and sister; naturally no one believed us, as we look nothing alike. Finally sick of being questioned, Saugat began to pull from the bag some of the gear to show them and explain in words to which they could relate, "She is my guru." Though I had invited him to travel with me as my assistant, I couldnít believe my ears. ìShe is teaching me photography, videography and sound recording,î he continued. I never imagined they would believe him, much less how far this slightly ridiculous rumor would go.

Perhaps it was only two days later, I was limping through the Juna Akhara camps, down the main road running along side the Shipra River, when one baba (Mastyandra Giri) called out to me to come join him by his dhuna (sacred fire). His persistence won over my reluctance, and I sat to join him. ìIíve heard all about you and have been waiting to meet you! Such an honor this is!î he said, pulling out a 4x6 photo album from his small baba bag. Eagerly he flipped through the pages to show me his photos and asked to my utter astonishment, "Am I good enough to be your student?"

At that moment I had crossed over the line. I was no longer a pretrekar (a journalist), no longer just a photographer or filmmaker like all the other white kids with cameras. In that instance I had become, not quite one of their own, but (in all my attempts to document them) closer to them than I imagined I ever would. By the first procession (a parade of ascetics and disciples following their gurus, riding on chariots) through the town of Ujjain, I had a crew of several naga sadhus, auditioning their albums, coming to me for rolls of film, using my digital equipment and eventually (as our roles slowly reversed) getting their own photos of me published in local newspapers.

They realized the importance of their recorded history. I realized how any foreigner pointing a camera at them changes their entire natural presence, and more importantly how so many other journalists before me have exploited their sensationalism. The only way to negotiate this dilemma is to provide them the means to document for themselves.