Most of the attendees come to the Kumbh Mela to bathe, but many of them also attend in order to receive Darshan (to see with reverence and devotion, to receive the consciousness of) from the thousands of holy men (and women) that come to the Kumbh to bathe as well. These sadhus, or people who have dedicated their lives solely to attaining enlightenment, live scattered throughout India but come together, along with most of the saints, gurus, and renowned teachers to reunite with one another and bathe together on the main bathing days.

To many westerners, the entire affair may seem foreign and strange. There are certainly plenty of spiritual or religious gatherings in the US, but none of this order of magnitude. There are large crowds that gather for big events, such as music or sports, but again not of this magnitude and not usually without any fights, alcohol, meat consumption, and without such joyfulness and community. But probably the most foreign aspect of the Kumbh Mela are the presence of the sadhus, and more specifically the naga babas who wear no clothing and most commonly allow their hair to grow into lengthy dreadlocks and who cover their body completely in ash.

Indeed, what would we make of a sister, brother, friend, son, or uncle who told us they decided to devote their life to enlightenment? How about if it included breaking all ties with family, friends, home, material things, work, and even clothing? When the initiates join an akara of sadhus, they shave their heads, shed almost all their clothing, and leave the world behind. That isn't to say that they will all wander the earth or live in a cave. While some do, others of them will be involved in teaching, community work, or social work. And then there are others, who will shed all of their clothing, cover their bodies in ash, and trust that they will be taken care of on their path, as their path is one of purity of consciousness.

And taken care of they are. In India, the path these men (and a few women) choose is not only acceptable, it is respected and even revered, and those on this path are cared for. Many of them reach expanded states of consciousness and become available to teach those who seek their company or counsel. In the United States, however, we would likely take a different view of such a choice. If a relative of someone shed all of their clothing and belongings and smeared their naked body in ash, they would likely wind up in a mental hospital, deemed unable to care for themselves and mentally ill.

Is there a difference between mental illness and enlightenment? How about the difference between a powerful shift in consciousness and a psychotic break? Absolutely. And with enough time and discussion, any good psychologist, psychiatrist, and spiritual person could come up with a strong list of what differentiates the two. However, an event like the Kumbh Mela calls attention to the significance of context of a person's experience in addition to the experience itself. In India there is no separation between what is "spiritual" and what is "life." The two are integrated, and there isn't a concept that one should be kept out of the other and that too much spirituality is a signifier of a lack of balance. In the US, we may have admiration for someone like Mother Theresa, Maharishi, or the Dali Lama, whose consciousness spiritual integration informs their every action, but we see them as an exception rather than a way that we all might be.

The Kumbh Mela was an event open to all people of India. They came from villages hundreds of miles away, by foot, train, bus, bicycle, car and airplane. The rich and poor, farmers and business people, families and sadhus. It was an incredibly special, exciting, and beautiful event, but it was not rare or strange for India. Nor did it exist as something outside of anyone's way of thinking or being in the world. Obviously in the U.S. spiritual integration might look very different than it would in India. And yet, an event such as this raises the question of what such integration might look like. It also raises questions about the difference between a spiritual crisis and a psychological one, or the difference between imbalance and devotion (or imbalance, psychosis and expanded consciousness). It may even call into question our concepts of "mental illness" (and therefore "treatment"). And frankly, while challenging, such questions may not be such a bad thing.

While on the one hand as a society we need to be able to have a common language with which to discuss and understand what mental health looks like, on the other hand as a society we also need to regularly question our conceptions of mental health.  There have periodically been times when we have discovered, through this questioning, that our concepts of mental health and mental illness are bound by culture or time-period, and we have grown and expanded our views beyond those constricted concepts.  Our definitions have changed.  Ultimately, these changes have allowed us to grow and evolve.  In that way, the Kumbh Mela, the sadhus, the naga babas, and the people of India may have something to teach us about ways in which we are still bound.  From them we may learn that “mental health” may be something beyond daily happiness or the material world, something related to a deeper freedom, a connection to the natural world, and a larger community than we could ever imagine.

photos by the author