Spanning time and the river

Hugh and Colleen Gantzer

From Patna, we drove across the great Mahatma Gandhi Setu. We sped over the venerated flow of the Ganga, turned right into a red-carpet welcome in the Tourist Village of the Sonepur Mela. In the mela, we relived the celebration of events as old as the earth and as fresh as tomorrow. They wove into the glittering embroidery of legend, folk memories of crocodile-predatory waters battling with the elephantine-bulk of the land, asserting that what the rivers take from one side they give to another. The Sonepur Mela must be the world’s greatest celebration of the balanced diversity of life.

It was wondrous. Decorated elephants swayed in a slow, pachydermic rhythm in a light-dappled grove. “No,” said a sleepy attendant. “They are not for sale, only for the show” and promptly went back to sleep on a pile of straw. There were also camels and beautiful horses, cows and buffaloes who gave enough milk every day to fill a rani’s marble tub. 

In one part, dogs of all shapes and sizes barked and yapped and wagged their tales, and were patted by prospective owners. Birds of all types chirruped and fluttered in another area. There were horses and buffaloes, camels and cows, and guinea pigs and rabbits and white mice. And there was also an entire covered space with the aroma and moisture of a rain forest devoted to plants for the greenhouse, garden and orchard. “Ah! You are from the Himalayas. No problem. We have a special mist chamber for such mountain species. You want to see?”  We declined: we couldn’t see ourselves flying back with a Cedrus deodara in our hand baggage!

Nowhere else in the world have we found the incredible variety of delicious fast foods that we have in our melas. Here the array was enormous, succulent and sinfully tempting. Though we have snacked on sizzling savouries and succulent sweets in other fairs too, this is the only one where we were offered fresh fish fried as we waited, and with a choice of two sauces! When we asked why there were no flies buzzing around, we were told that the green leaves that were scattered on the displayed fish kept away all insects. Nevertheless, we stuck to more orthodox fare!

In an open ground, music blared and banners fluttered in the breeze. This was the noisy, throbbing heart of the fair. Carousels swirled with bobbing blue horses; a boat-swing carried excited passengers high into the air; there was a giant wheel, a roaring well of death with motorcycles defying gravity, and stalls selling everything from garments to trumpets to hideous masks. Small groups of visitors sat on the grass, snacking, relaxing. We spoke to one of them. “Myself, I am a farmer,” said a heavily built man. “I came to see cattle. My family came to enjoy,” he grinned. “Now, also I am enjoying. So, at sunset, we will return to our lodgings.” “Will you not wait for the lights to come on? We are told that the mela is very beautiful at night.” “No, no,” he stood up and spoke almost in a whisper. “In the theatre, there are unsuitable shows for families. We should leave before that starts.”

The “theatre” was a bamboo and canvas affair. Bouncers stood outside. Enormous posters displayed the overblown charms of their stars. Bollywood item numbers had clearly influenced this 21st century attraction. We visited the Hariharnath temple, teeming with devotees. At the bathing ghats, dotted with shrines under banyan and peepal trees, women plunged into the river and then, after adroitly changing into dry saris at the ghats, they sat and cheered their favourite teams skimming past in a boat race. Said a venerable bystander, sipping a cup of tea, “The boat race is something new.” Added his friend with a walrus moustache: “In the old days, the zamindars would row past in decorated boats in a river durbar for the raja-saheb.”

He had like many others, probably internalised myths and legends, transformed them into beliefs and then erected them as the steel frame of a self-renewing festival. The Sonepur Mela is older, more varied and fascinating, than any other festival we have seen anywhere else in the world.