INDIA: At the Three Rivers

The autumnal Ganges floods had receded at Allahabad, baring a five-square-mile mud flat where three sacred rivers join—the muddy Ganges, the blue Jumna, and the Saraswati, which, according to Hindu legend, wells up from underground. At the Triveni Sangam (Meeting of the Three Rivers) last week, a tumultuous tent city had grown up, peopled by 3,000,000 Hindus. By thousands of fires, breech-clouted sadhus (holy men) chanted Vedic hymns. Around the clock a clangor of raucous songs mingled with hymns, flutes with elephant bells, caterwauls with the keening of sacred recitations. The millions had come for the religious festival of Ardh Kumbh Mela, to revel and to bathe where the sacred rivers meet.

Invitation to the Souls. But for a moment last week the festival tumult subsided. Through the tent city moved a truck with a raised platform draped in India's tricolor flag. On top rode an earthenware brown urn. Within it were most of the ashes of Mohandas Gandhi. Chatter was hushed as the catafalque moved slowly past.

Gandhi would have disapproved of much that went on at the three rivers. Although an ascetic, he condemned the extreme self-mortification of holy men who lay (as many did last week) on beds of nails, or walked on beds of live coals, or twisted their attenuated bodies into knots. Gandhi had gone but a few times to the great popular Hindu festivals, sternly condemned the orgiastic frenzy and the exhibitions of extreme asceticism. Now, however, Gandhi belonged not only to the ages but to the people, and India celebrated his last rites in its own un-Gandhian fashion. At water's edge, the ash-laden urn was transferred to the white (for mourning) superstructure of an army "duck." With eight other ducks, it churned noisily into the river, while army planes swooped overhead, dropping flowers on the cortege. On the shore, army guns boomed a salute of 79 salvos for Gandhi's 79 years.

Gandhi's son Ramdas poured sacred cow's milk into the urn of ashes, swirled it, then slowly poured the mixture into the water.* Gandhi's soul, according to Hindu belief, was at last free from its mortal prison. At the same moment, milkmen of nearby Allahabad, in a unique tribute, poured barrels of milk into the stream.

Disrespect in the Soles. Two of the chief mourners on the duck which bore Gandhi's ashes were Jawaharlal Nehru and Vallabhbhai Patel, both clad in white dhotis, both barefoot. The two men on whom India's hopes were now pinned—the gentle, philosophical Nehru, who agreed with Gandhi's policy of conciliation toward Moslems, and the hard man of action Patel, no conciliator—seemed united in grief and respect for Gandhi's wishes. Their first step had been to strike at the extremist communal organizations, Hindu and Moslem, which had been fomenting religious hatred.

First they banned the Rashtriya Sway-am Sewak Sangh (Organization for Service to the Nation), militant Hindu youth organization of which Gandhi's assassin, Nathu Ram Vinayak Godse, was a member. Some 1,200 leaders and members were arrested for questioning. The secret R.S.S.S., which had mushroomed to a membership of about 2,000,000 since the communal riots began last year, drew most of its strength from the warlike Mahratta people of western India, who have always regarded the Moslems as invading interlopers.