Some writers often confuse simple prose with platitudinous writing. Author Nityananda Misra seems to have fallen into that trap with Kumbha: The Traditionally Modern Mela. Much has been said and written about this year’s Kumbh in Prayagraj, Uttar Pradesh. There has been enough criticism and celebration of the Rs 4,000-crore mega event, especially one before the all-important general election. In this universe of analysis and opinion, Misra’s Kumbha sticks out like a sore thumb. It is neither analytical nor is the narrative engaging. At best, it is a tourist brochure for the Kumbh, possibly only for first-generation English readers who might gloss over the countless grammatical errors.
This year’s Kumbh, for instance, is significant on various levels, the first being the focus on sanitation and cleanliness. Second, a primarily Hindu gathering allows political parties to engage with potential voters on a ready platform. It is also a chance for the state machinery to display to the world India’s competence in organising an event this large. Misra expounds on all these aspects, but falls just short of offering any commentary of note.
Kumbha: The traditionally modern mela Author: Nityananda Misra, Publisher: Bloomsbury , Pages: 205 Price: Rs 399
One big drawback is the fact that the book was written just before the Kumbh Mela began in January. In the preface, he writes that just as a temporary city pops up around the Sangam — the confluence of the rivers Ganga, Yamuna and the now non-existent Saraswati — two months before the Kumbh, his book has been “conceptualised, designed, written, typeset and proofread in just two months”. He then asks readers to point out errors to him over Twitter. This book has another function, then — allowing budding editors to practise their proofing skills.
Grammar aside, there are but a handful of sections that have information of any true merit. The section on the sadhus and kalpavasis (the pilgrims who stay at the Kumbh for its entire duration) offers a surface understanding of the world of akharas (brahminical seminaries). These akharas, other than being spiritually driven, wield enormous political clout. There is, of course, only a passing mention of the akharas being politically active. The Nirmohi Akhara, for instance, is only described as one of the three litigants in the Ram Janmabhoomi lawsuit.
A Sanskrit scholar, Misra could have charted the history of the Kumbh beyond a feeble retelling of a sequence of events. He tries that while explaining Adi Shankaracharya’s role in the origins of the akhara system, but eventually states that the akharas came into existence to protect Hindu culture from destruction under Islamic rule. He then devotes a small passage to the secular Muslims, Christians and Jains who not only attend the Kumbh but also take the holy dip at the Sangam.
Misra also has no patience for “elite” and “English-speaking” Indians who, he says, continue to devalue the significance of the Kumbh. He fails to mention how loud and chest-thumping Hindutva has, in fact, eroded diverse practices within the fold of Hinduism. In ridding his prose of jargon so it is in no way elite, the author rids it of all nuance, leaving a 200-page book full of tautologies and truisms. He has veiled scorn for “other” Hindu movements, which he thinks are commercially driven in most cases. The Arya Samaj, for example, is described as a mere “movement” that never quite caught on.
The photograph of a sadhu flipping his hair at the Sangam is a template shot
As a Sanskrit scholar, one would imagine he would approach propaganda religious literature with caution. But Misra’s excitement is palpable in his description of the Gita Press in Gorakhpur and the role this publisher of Hindu texts plays at the Kumbh. He links the popularity of the Gita Press to rising literacy rates, a trend that merits, according to Misra, two exclamation marks. The Gita Press also wins on the pricing front because the author finds that scholarly reports and peer-reviewed books about the Kumbh are oppressively priced.
Each of Kumbha’s chapters is divided into sections, and each features concluding remarks. Misra could have well begun his prose with “Dear diary”, or perhaps even checked with schoolchildren to see how school magazine-level writing has also matured. In the personal experiences section, for instance, Misra’s enthusiasm in describing his epiphanic Kumbh experience invokes only discomfiture. He believes that the inclusion of the Kumbh in Unesco’s list of intangible cultural heritage is an honour more for Unesco than it is for the organisers of the festival.
It would have been worthwhile if Misra could have written about why India needs a Kumbh to showcase its public policy prowess. Why can state governments not replicate their lessons from a six-week-long extravaganza for an average Indian citizen, Hindu or otherwise? But this book is proof that Misra is not the candidate for such hard questions.
At best Kumbha is the equivalent of open-sourced, user-generated Wikipedia page — but even that is free. Perhaps you can pick up this book if there’s no internet and you want just the ABCs of the Kumbh.
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