faces in prayer, strangers all....
greetings in recognition, in each one,
they see you, again, again, O Vittala!!!
He had gotten away from his house in Mumbai, just on the persuasion of his neighbour from Pune. Mr. Purushottam Pandit joined the palkhi each year and completed the entire journey. Mohan was familiar with the Sabarimalai yatra in Kerala and knew of the duration, intensity and preparations of the pilgrims. Just hearing about it and all, had been terrifying. Pandit had assured him that hte palkhi was not as intense, and it would be a very relaxing walk. "You will not feel the strain!" He had claimed.
Trusting him, Mohan had agreed to accompany him and join the dindi, one of the oldest ones and very traditional, and of course very disciplined and intense. He had been waiting for an opportunity to get away, and he slowed his walk and got out of the group. The rest of the palkhi seemed to be more interesting. There was quite a lot of stuff that was happening. Away from the palkhi, the logistics of voluntary groups providing support was tremendously overwhelming.
Mohan went up to one of the stalls offering breakfast snacks and water. The volunteer glanced at his ID badge from his dindi and immediately gave him a paper plate containing hot upma and a paper cup with hot tea. It was free. It felt like cheating, thought Mohan, but the early morning tea at the night camp in his dindi, was all that he had. Another volunteer, watching him and realising his awkwardness, came up and said, "Kaka, we have set up toilets and bath facilities nearby. You are welcome to use them, if you want." Mohan was tempted. It had been difficult to get used to the group bathing with cold water in the pre-dawn hours. But, he had been enthusiastic about it, for the past two days. It had been in good fun.
Thanking the volunteer, Mohan went about taking care of his personal needs, along with a good leisurely bath. It was heavenly. They gave him a second cup of hot tea, that was more than welcome, better than the first one, and he went back to exploring the palkhi after thanking the volunteers. They just smiled and did a brief namaste and waved him off. It was fascinating to see the various aspects of this, one of the greatest congregations of people in the world for a long duration at one place. They dressed in a humble manner and yet, one could notice that the affluent were also among them, without any pretenses, and similarly dressed. The all-women-dindis were better organised, he felt, and they were laughing happily and singing in a proper manner, very rhythmically.
Mohan kept walking alongside the palkhi. The diversity and flow of energy was overwhelming. The discipline and order was very obvious. The police force almost had nothing to intervene about other than to make their presence felt. There were all sorts of roadside shanties set up, with food of different costs. There were shanties and stalls that announced free food and water, while there were notices that offered the services of local womens' groups for cooking and serving. It was amazing, Mohan felt, that people wanted to just give and give and give, happily.
He noticed a bright yellow Nano car, ahead of him, parked away from the road, near an open well, where pilgrims were using the water from some open tanks. An elderly lady stepped out of the car and walked up to the roadside and sat on a dirty bench in front of a shanty. She was dressed impeccably, in an almost offensive chiffon saree, but carried it with good grace. "Offensive", as Mohan felt, to the ambience of the humble pilgrim in the palkhi, but, who was he to question, he thought. Even a rich person has a right to their devotion, he told himself.
Curious, he watched her from a nearby spot. She must have sensed it, for she turned and looked at him directly for a while. Later, she waved to Mohan and asked him to come nearer. Startled, Mohan went up to her, and as she gestured, sat on the bench, next to her. The lady smiled and said, "You were staring. You think I do not fit in here, do you? I do not qualify to be a devotee?" Mohan was surprised, and replied, "How did you know? Truly speaking, I was thinking the very same."
The elderly lady in the chiffon replied, "I get these looks each year. I come to the palkhi every year. I am not able to walk, but I want to be in the palkhi, and I travel with the group from Alandi to Pune to Pandharpur. I sit alongside the palkhi during the daytime, watch the people go by, enjoy their devotion, soak in their energy, and I am alive again. This energy keeps me going every year. By the evening, I drive back to the nearest town, where I have a team who take care of my arrangements in a good lodge-stay and I get back in the morning. From what I see, you are new to the palkhi."
Wow, thought Mohan. How did she know? He smiled, but the puzzle must have been obvious, for the elderly lady in the chiffon, continued, "How do I know? You are walking about slowly, enjoying every sight, and trying to absorb everything. The others are engrossed in their devotion, and they see only one aspect. In each one of their minds, in their eyes and in their walk, they have only one aspect. They see their meeting with Panduranga Vittala on Ashaadh Ekadasi at Pandharpur."
Mohan replied, "Yes. I noticed their focused determination and devotion. This is my first palkhi. I came because my neighbour convinced me to come and join in the walk. He comes every year and he talks about the palkhi and about how he gets transformed each year. I wanted to see how it happens. I retired last year, and I have plenty of time. You said you have a team? Where are they? They do not come with you to the palkhi? Are you a very rich woman, then? But, you have only a Nano car, and you have no driver. I noticed that you were driving the car."
"I drive the Nano myself," she replied, "because it is very easy to get inside the palkhi and park at a good spot. I come early, before the pilgrims reach here. I pick a spot and wait nearby. Some of the volunteer groups know me from these many years. But, my spots are the same that I come to, each year, and so, the local villagers know me. They invite me to their homes. Yes. I am what you may say, 'very rich', as I run 2-3 companies in Mumbai. My health is failing me, and I am not in good condition. I cannot do many things now, and I cannot take risks with my food."
Mohan smiled, and answered, "My retirement has just begun. I feel there are many more adventures with health that are just waiting to begin now. Why do you come? You can easily visit the palkhi and drive straight ahead to Pandharpur and organise your opportunity for some VVIP entry on Ashaadh Ekadashi!!! Why sit here, and see the palkhi, every day, unable to walk, and unable to participate? Do you feel content? Is it something that you really wanted to do?"
The elderly lady in the chiffon laughed at his questions, and replied, "Do you know that all these people who walk to Pandharpur, may not actually be able to get inside the inner sanctum of the Pandharpur temple on Ashaadh Ekadashi? Nearly 80% of these pilgrims know that they would not be able to get inside. Yet, they travel, each year. They make it inside on the next day or the after. They get to see their god for about 2-3 seconds, and then they are pushed aside and made to rush out. Yet, they travel. They would not be happy if they were not to be pushed about. It is that fragile moment that they crave for."
"It was my husband who used to walk the entire pilgrimage." she continued, "I would then accompany him to drop him off at Pune, and stay in the city and meet our friends and business partners, and later, drive ahead to Pandharpur and make arrangements for him. We would then drive back to Mumbai. He walked for three years only. Now, he is no longer with me. He has gone ahead, ten years ago, to the great temple above, to be with his favourite Panduranga Vittala. He wanted that and he achieved it."
Mohan was stunned, and saddened. He said, "I am sorry. It must be a terrible thing to happen in one's life. So, you have been coming here, these past ten years, to relive those moments? To enjoy the palkhi as he would have enjoyed the moment and the walk? That is indeed so appropriate, emotionally. You must be happy that you are experiencing whatever brought happiness to your husband, don't you? But, he must have had his dindi. Don't you join them, even for a day?"
The elderly lady in the chiffon seemed to be angry, but replied in a calm manner, "I do not come to enjoy the palkhi as he would have. That is so irrational, to think it out like that. I come because I can get away from my house and from my business for these many days. Here, I am nobody. I struggle to stay unknown here. Of course, they must be pointing out to me because of my costly clothes and my car and all that, but now, I am a part of the palkhi. I enjoy sitting here, and after some time, I will walk to another spot, across the road, or visit one of the villager's homes. I know these families now. I know their children and they know me."
"But, do you know what is irrational and yet welcome? here, in this palkhi?" She asked Mohan, and said, "I see the warkaris, walking by, intent on their destination, and it helps me determine my strategies back at work. I am now more determined, and more focused. I see the teamwork in the dindis, the unquestioned discipline and their timing, and I carry it back with me to the people I meet, at my house, in my extended family and in my businesses. I demand the same teamwork. If so many people who do not meet each other for the rest of the year can work and move and worship together, and yet stay singular, then it can be acquired by others, who are required to do it."
Mohan looked at the passing warkaris again, in a new perspective. She was correct. How did these groups achieve and maintain such discipline? How did they not break up? The palkhi had been going on for more than 400 years in this manner, and how did it continue? There were no written handbooks or manuals. The palkhi was not certified for ISO 9001 or anything similar. How did these people work with each other in such an easy and approachable manner? How did they provide help, support and guidance to so many hundreds of thousands of people in such a selfless manner?
He nodded at what he was seeing, and spoke to the elderly lady in the chiffon, "Yes. I see what you say. I had never thought about it in this manner. But, this is only my first palkhi. I am sure, however, that you are not sitting here merely for management inputs in taking care of your businesses. Your husband must have guided them with this thought process in a similar manner, and you must be only continuing with them. Perhaps your team and employees are listening to you only because they feel sorry for you, since you are running your businesses alone?"
She smiled, "I agree with you," she said, "It could be that. But, I was not a business person when he was alive. I was just an independent housewife, with very stubborn thinking, and taking care of the household, socialising with our business partners and their families, and joining up with my husband in all the various activities that he would undertake, even in the palkhi. He used to say strange things, then, and I used to laugh at them. He used to say that for him, his god was in each one of his employees, and in their families. He used to say, that his god was in each one of us, and he would always speak very affectionately with anyone, including our driver, or the housemaid, and would ask about their families and all that. I would find it very strange, but I got used to it."
"Now, I come here, each year, and I sit here, and I ask him, where did you see this god, where did you see Panduranga Vittala in the warkaris?" She said, jokingly, "But, I know. Over these many years, I have come to know, that you do not need to see. You know. In the small girls who stand near their homes, while they see the palkhi passing by, in the shopkeeper of this shanty, who cooks food for the warkaris, and in the volunteers who make tea and breakfast, and offer it without any cost. You know that he is with them. I may not be so fortunate, and yet, I see you. Someone who just came out of his house, because his neighbour asked him to join him. How did you decide?"
"Do you feel the energy? Do you feel the vibrations?" She asked Mohan, "I know that you do. Why would you be so happy in walking about in the palkhi, outside your dindi? My husband used to do the same. His friends told me about it. He could not bear the discipline, and he would walk about. And then, he would come home and praise and praise and praise the discipline. He never told us that he broke the group and went walking about all around the palkhi."
The elderly lady in the chiffon pointed at the all-women-dindi that was walking by. She said, "I would have never been able to walk with them with such enthusiasm. I would never have been able to continue to sing and chant for so many days. Yet, I come here, each year, and sit and admire them. They show me the courage that my husband used to pretend to have. So what if you cannot be part of the group. You are more blessed, for you get to move about and see Panduranga Vittala in so many more warkaris. I do the same. I sit here, and watch them, and watch the glow in their faces and the happiness in their eyes. I see him, within each one of them."
Glossary
aai = Mother
abhang = hymns composed by the great saints of Maharashtra.
Ashaadhi = the Hindu Calendar month during June-July
ashtavinayaka = the pilgrimage to eight sacred destinations in western Maharashtra, with eight of the most well-known temples to Lord Ganesha.
atya = Aunt, usually, father's sister.
bawa, bawaji = an affectionate word to call out to a Parsi, usually for men. Only if you are a close friend.
beti = Daughter
bhagawantha = God.
chapati = cooked wheat flat cakes, like a roti. An Indian-style tortilla.
dada = elder brother or grandfather
dhaba = roadside food place. With informal arrangements.
Dindis = the group-units of pilgrims participating in the wari.
Dnyanba = Sant Shri Dnyaneshwar of Alandi
keertan, keertankar = hymns sung as a song. The singer, usually a respected veteran, is known as a keertankar. Groups of devotees sing together with the keertankar and have established routines and sequences.
lungi = a sarong-type of dress, worn below the waist, comfortably with an easy tuck-in.
Maro Dikri = 'my daughter' - a favoured term in Parsi and Gujarati lingo.
Mauli = Devotee of Panduranga. Also a form of greeting in recognition of the other person's faith in Panduranga Vittala.
namaste = salutation, with folded hands, in front of the chest. In respect.
paadukas = the sacred symbolic feet-impressions of deities or sages
palkhi = the pilgrimage from Dehu-Sant Tukaram temple and Alandi-Sant Dnyaneshwar temple via Pune to Pandharpur in Solapur District, Maharashtra
policewallah = policeman
prasad = sacred offerings presented to the deities. Some part of it is usually returned to the devotee.
qaidi = prisoner
rath = chariot, usually pulled by oxen during the palkhi from Dehu-Alandi-Pune to Pandharpur
Sabarimala yatra = pilgrimage in Kerala to Lord Ayyappa.
tai = Sister
Tuka, Tuka says, Tukaram = Sant Tukaram of Dehu. His renditions in praise of Panduranga Vittala are the abhangs that are remembered through hundreds of years. They are popularly known as "Tuka says..."
upma = dish made of semolina.
vaikhunta = passed away. Gone ahead to the great heavens above.
veena = stringed instrument used by warkaris to strum and recite
veenkari = the person who wears the veena around his neck and chants God's name.
wari = the annual June-July (ashaadhi) pilgrimage from Dehu-Alandi-Pune to Pandharpur.
warkaris = traditional pilgrims - devotees of Panduranga Vittala, the deity at Pandharpur - who walk from Dehu-Alandi-Pune to Pandharpur, covering nearly 200 kms
Yaa = Come. A form of invitation in affection.
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