The Fire Ceremony

On Sunday afternoon we left the stillness of the ashram to take on the crowded bustle of Rishikesh for the evening Fire Ceremony.

We piled into motorized rickshaws and bounced into town, zigzagging around cattle, dogs, potholes, bicycles of fruit, men walking with bags of rice or cement balanced on their heads, women with firewood tied to their backs, motorcycles, trucks, orange-clothed Hindu priests, bulldozers…even a monkey eating a popsicle! After so much meditation and quiet instruction, so many sounds were almost obscene. By the time we dismounted in Rishikesh, we had become so accustomed to shouting to be heard over the buzz of the motor, we had to remind ourselves to speak in normal voices.

We made our way down a narrow row of shops butting up against the many flights of steps down to the River Ganga. There was much shopping to be had in closet-sized stores packed full of scarves, incense and jewelry. There were Ayurvedic pharmacies with thousand-year old remedies for seemingly every affliction and shops selling nothing but marigolds. We passed stores of religious art, shelves and shelves of statues gazing calmly over the people passing by: the monkey-faced Hanuman, Shiva with his many arms, the elephant-headed Ganesh, son of the gods Shiva and Parvati. Some of us crossed the Ganga on a narrow bridge that seemed like a foot bridge – until the motorcycles came racing through as if the hundreds of people were merely a human obstacle course.

On the opposite side, we sat resting our feet on benches overlooking the Ganga and watching the endless stream of brightly-dressed pedestrians on the bridge. Soon a horde of excited boys came swarming around us, and the man with them explained that they were students from Lucknow who wanted their picture taken with us. We smiled and posed for dozens of pictures, feeling like movie stars, before their teacher ushered them on.

At sunset, we gathered as a group and took a boat to the other side of the river. Before boarding, we bought little bowls made out of leaves and filled with marigolds, plus a single wick awaiting a flame. These, we were told, were offering to bless the “incarnations” of our ancestors that they might achieve “moksa,” freedom from the cycle of existence. Later, we would light them and set them afloat to carry our blessings down the sacred Ganga.

On the far side of the river, we made our way down another narrow street of shops to the “ghat” in front of the Parmath Niketan Ashram, a giant white marble archway framing yet another set of steps descending to the water’s edge. On top of the archway was an ornate sculpture of a horse-drawn chariot. From a short distance out into the river, an enormous stone Shiva (that I guessed to be 15 or 20 feet tall) sat cross-legged on a platform, watching the ceremony with a tranquil expression. Dozens of boys in saffron-colored robes – who looked to range in age from 8 or 9 to young men – were seated up and down the stairs, swaying to the music of an accordion-type instrument, a bongo drum, and a man singing into a microphone. We removed our shoes and moved among them until we found seats.

The Fire Ceremony, the Ganga Aarti, occurs every night in Rishikesh as a way of honoring ancestors. It consists of a couple hours of music, while an eclectic group of people sat around a square fireplace and tossed herbs, mixed with ghee, into the flames. Soon into the ceremony, the ashram’s high guru entered with much fanfare, his flowing orange robes and long bushy hair making him look the perfect picture of a holy man. He seated himself at the microphone and took over the singing and chanting. The sound was at times mournful and at times celebratory and always emotionally-stirring.

Once it was fully dark, the yellow-clad boys, students from the ashram, lit lanterns that they passed through the crowd, instructing us on how to hold them aloft while circling them through the air. At the ceremony’s conclusion, we lit the wicks in our marigold-filled bowls and released them in the river’s gentle current. Then we made our way through orange-clothed beggars lining each side of the street and across the bridge to find rickshaw taxis back to our ashram.

To get from Rishikesh to Agra the next day, we took an early morning train for eight hours, sharing a sleeper car with a community of roaches, who were numerous and very active…but thankfully not very large.

To see pictures from our trip, please visit the Inner Connections Yoga Facebook page at: http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#!/pages/Castle-Rock-CO/Inner-Connections-Yoga/294275506729

About Inner Connections Yoga
Inner Connections Yoga, in Castle Rock, Colorado since 2002, is a place where the ancient traditions of Hatha yoga are brought into the experience of our modern lives. John and Jeanne Adams, the studio owners, help their clients to unite the interconnecting aspects of body, breath and spirit, and also connect yoga enthusiasts in a supportive, friendly community. Every year, Inner Connections leads a group yoga trip to an international location. Past trips have included Brazil, Fiji, Honduras and Costa Rica. For more information, please visit www.InnerConnectionsYoga.com.