HOLY SAFFRON!

KEY TOPICS: Rishikesh, Hinduism, gender equality

*No summary included.

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Still in his saffron robes, Pandit Sita Ram alighted from the mandir's rear exit. He scanned the lot for his silver sedan. Instead, he came across a gaggle of school children dressed in crisp navy-coloured uniforms. Those Centennial Academy students, he growled to himself, as he considered how he'd pass unnoticed.

No, I'm not quoting a contemporary Indian novelist. Do I flatter myself? (Clearly, I do.) I'm trying to cleverly engage you, the reader, as I launch into my latest article about saffron and the matter of holiness - or the likes of Pandit Sita Ram. I propose, as the Pandit's surreptitious exit is meant to suggest, that nothing is as it seems: a man's robes don't reveal the man, more often, they conceal him.

In the northern Indian town of Rishikesh, pandits and prodigies - the holy set - meet along the shores of the Ganges River. They wait for the spiritual seekers who descend steep slopes, cross bridges and wend through densely packed streets to the time-worn marble steps.

Lord Shivji along the Ganges, Rishikesh, India

Here, in view of Shivji, Hindu God of Destruction, everyone assembles and waits. At the appointed time, a fire is ignited, Sanskrit prayers uttered and Baghwan (God) invoked. Dressed in saffron robes, the holy set imbue the shoreline with an unmistakable religious character. Others can freely indulge in what these boys and men must deny themselves. In India, the colour saffron is a marker of religious devotion; but perhaps we seekers want to believe that it's also a marker of sublime character. 

In April 2013, I traveled from Dehradun to Rishikesh by car. It was a short trip that my Indian host happily made so I could see a storied place described in the epic poem, Mahabharata. This was my first visit to the Ganges, a river described by aunts and uncles as magical. My host, however, remained skeptical; he didn't believe in magic. But, he couldn't deny that where land and water meet, there's sheer beauty. 

That evening, we participated in a riverside pooja that amazed just like the setting sun. We sat on hallowed ground, or so I thought. After all, this was the very land of the Hindu mystic - the hu(man) who lives for godly beauty. The pooja brought hundreds of us together in a wash of orange scented by lit incense that mingled for hours with the warm air. The loudspeaker carried the pandit's voice, which rarely tired, all the way to the rear. For centuries, this ceremony has been performed in one way or another. But for me this experience was nothing like the transplanted rituals I witnessed as a child in Canadian temples. It was sublime. 

The Boys in Saffron at Riverside Pooja, Rishikesh, India

 
The whole time, the boys in saffron looked introspective. The more I looked, the more unearthly they seemed. Was this their intention? In truth, their presence made me feel that something lost had been found. Maybe that's how many diasporic Indians feel when they come to the Ganges. The loss really a yearning to understand a sacred history their own parents have forgotten...to tell. Only afterward would I realize that this was my unplanned Hindu pilgrimage. As for my skeptical host, he was just happy to know that I'd enjoyed the trip. 

For years, the matter of holiness has preoccupied me. I'm Indian and Canadian. Both cultures have imparted their values, whether spiritual, social or political, to make me the complex person that I am today. I'm drawn to Hinduism when it's fluid, multifaceted and philosophical. On the other hand, I'm upset when Hinduism becomes the institution that's hierarchical and patriarchal (SEE Akshardam Temple). The institution that's marred by scandals - from meat-eating to sexual assaults - which expose the holy set behaving badly, sometimes very badly. My Indian host really wasn't the only skeptic that spring evening. 

The Marketplace in
Rishikesh, India

Religious hypocrisy has a long history in the Indian sub-continent. No surprise then that beneath my calm was agitation. The wonder of religious scripture and devotion, I kept telling myself, should be open to women, too. Nothing in the pandit's voice, disposition or performance that evening suggested that formal religious practice should be led by men. Sure, there are female gurus, like 40-something Anandmurti Guru maa, from Amritstar, Punjab who lead thousands of devotees. But their saffron robes are still considered a woman's robes. The matter of religion is tied up with mighty power structures and time-spanning cultural traditions making a deeper analysis beyond the scope of this article. But, I will ask this: why are girls and women - so-called devis - not swelling the ranks of religious leaders? And, how holy are these saffron-clad boys, anyways?

Chattarpur Temple (Hanumanji statue) in Delhi, India

Saffron clearly isn't just the spice that sells for a handsome price at the grocer's. Yet it's more than a colour. It just also might be less than holy. (If you're wondering, the delicate saffron spice is derived from the crocus plant. Because the latter is rare and its cultivation labour-intensive, saffron today is prohibitively expensive.)

In India, Hinduism is outwardly expressed through impressive iconographic statues, roadside temples and public funeral processions that enliven the physical landscape. In the city, the mandir (temple) and fruit stand are often built side-by-side so an errand run might be punctuated by a quick prayer or offering. Whether you're embracing, questioning or rejecting Hinduism's principles, there's a spiritual layer to daily existence here that influences your thoughts and actions. The matter of holiness simply isn't reserved for the holy set in saffron robes nor is it the exclusive domain of ashram capitals, like Rishikesh or neighbouring Haridwar. While the religion itself has a public face, engagement with Hinduism can be deeply personal and - it should be no surprise - conflictual.

Traditions are fast changing. Today, one can enter the mandir clad in jeans and exit without a care in the world. This may not be a marker of religious devotion but who decided anyways that it couldn't be so? Pandit Sita Ram, with all due respect, I'm content sitting apart from the holy set, it gives me perspective.