Why Kumbh in times of corona is reasonable for some, baffling for others

With thousands of people still congregating for religious festivals and political rallies in the middle of a raging pandemic, the question one feels compelled to ask is: Are the faithful stupid?

The one-word answer is “No”.

It may be a tempting conclusion to draw that all those who have congregated at the bathing ghats of Haridwar or the pre-election rallies in West Bengal have lost their minds. That anyone practicing a ritual or showing up in support of a leader is ignorant, if not dumb or plain evil.

But investiture of faith—whether in a God or a leader, in a system or a philosophy—is a complex matter with several layers of meaning. It often makes a person eschew rationale and act in completely contrary ways.

Having faith involves betting on something/someone vis-à-vis a wholly uncertain future, and a qualified belief that our hopes and expectations will be fulfilled by that something/someone. The promises could be that of benefit, protection, or both, and that something could be God, a person, an idea or even an object.

Wanting to find meaning and availing the promised benefit will make people line up equally ardently for rallies or rituals—even if it means being in complete denial of logic or facts.

In search of eternal life?

This denial of facts is one of the reasons why death is at their doorstep. Some religious sects such as the Maha Nirvani Akhada have learnt this the hard way, having lost their leaders to the COVID-19 infection. More than 200 saints and over a 3000 people have tested positive at the Kumbh Mela for the dreaded virus so far and counting.

However, there are many others who persist. There are Akhadas and individuals that will stay till the end and keep pushing their luck. What makes them stick? Why do they indulge in what are clearly dangerous acts?

One explanation could be that religious beliefs are instilled in most people right from their childhood to the extent that it becomes instinctive. Higher education, when and if received, comes at a much later point, and these later life learnings have too many hardwired concepts to contend with.

In the face of strange new ideas, many tend to fall back on time-tested wisdom rather than deal with the discomfort of change. The pandemic story is new to most of us, and we have not yet adapted to its demands.

In the face of these constant uncertainties, turning to familiar tales is a way of seeking comfort, an affirmation of the things we know and can predict. The psychological value of the known story is far greater than the litany of dry scientific data.

Another explanation may be sought in cultural anthropologist, Ernest Becker’s terror management theory, which states that such contraindicative behaviours are displayed when people try to mitigate anxiety stemming from the awareness of death.

Nowhere in the recent past has the awareness of mortality been so stark for humankind, and those turning to faith may just be clutching at the last straw. It is the idea of symbolic immortality which most religions offer that people are feeding off at these times. In the act of sharing such humanly-constructed beliefs and practices, in congregating with a like-minded community, individuals minimise existential dread.

Thus, it would not be hard to understand precisely why the Kumbh Mela—which is literally the festival that promises immortality—would have appealed to so many faithful during the pandemic.

Stories over science

The Kumbh Mela is one most important pilgrimages for Hindus of all denominations. There are variations of a legend that explain the origin and significance of the fair.

It follows the famous churning of the ocean episode when a few drops of amrita (divine nectar of immortality) fell from the kumbha (pot) on some places on earth when Vishnu in his Mohini form was escaping with it. These spots are believed to have been invested with some of the nectar’s powers and on certain lunar periods, their power is magnified.

Whoever bathes in the holy rivers on certain designated dates is believed to attain a long life, if not immortality. Propelled by these stories, thousands of Indians travelled to Haridwar to partake in the festival in the summer of 2021, even though they had lived through a year of many pandemic-related challenges.

That some people can choose such ‘fiction’ over fact for decision-making seems mind-boggling to the rest of us. When countered with facts, they are found justifying their belief with tradition, citing examples of human tragedies and miraculous solutions from mythology, and simply making a truth claim about their faith.

In their ‘spiritual’ bubbles, facts do not matter. In fact, in a Euhemeristic approach (historicisation of mythology) that is often favoured by those of religious mindsets, faith is understood to be fact.

Old conundrum, new contexts

Which brings us back to the age-old debate around religion and science, which are really representatives of the larger premises of faith and fact. There are numerous studies and opinions on the subject, ranging from an outright rejection of their compatibility to more accommodative stances which believe they are two sides of the same coin.

Until such time when every single person in the world believes in one story (which is basically never), we must make room in our hearts for those we perceive in the wrong.

Those erring in the eyes of science and those erring in the eyes of God all deserve compassion and not condemnation.

A complete rejection of another’s faith—whether religious or scientific—only leaves us with deadlocks and derogatory labels that solve nothing and serve no one.

The question for us, then, is to learn how to hold opposing values in tension, to allow for the keeping of our respective faiths without being detrimental to others, to find common tongues and halfway bridges.

After all, whichever side of the debate you may be on, you are situated in one world in which faith and reason both exist, and one which the (un)faithful and the (un)reasonable must both share.