alone, a keertankar sings, all night....
the incessant rain, splatters mud all over,
in darkness, sleeping pilgrims, O Vittala!!!
Mallikarjun was disgusted. This place was terrible. He had been asked to stay ready at the entrance to the camping grounds for the palkhi. When the lakhs of pilgrims would walk in and set up their camp, he had been asked to stay close to the main tent, in the police control space. They would set up a police tent, absolutely next to the main tent that would house the sacred paadukas of Sant Dnyaneshwar. All the local police constables had been given duty elsewhere, because they would have to maintain control over the possible trouble spots. The SRPF had been given duty all over the camping grounds, near the petrol stations and at the eateries nearby.
It was raining without any end. The entire camping ground was now slushy and seemed like it would soon transform into a lake. He had asked his senior officers if there was a back-up plan, if the camping ground was not usable. The senior officer had consulted the local police officer who assured them that they should not worry about the slush and the rain. They were told that the palkhi and the warkaris were used to the rain, and would be able to convert the entire slushy camping ground into a small city within an hour. He did not believe this assurance at all. How could this slushy ground be used, if at all. He had been used to going out with his colleagues to set up camping areas. They had been taught that one had to select the most dry of places, and ensure that the tents do not get wet from the damp grounds. And, this was certainly more than damp. Was this to be used for lakhs of pilgrims? It would be a terrible moment, he thought.
He had been instructed that the advance contingent of trucks and assorted vehicles would reach the camping grounds, at least 2-4 hours before the pilgrims would walk in. They had their own monitoring and coordination teams and they would manage on their own. His job was to keep a watch and ensure that there were no unruly elements or any surprise violence or breakdown in law and order. Already, the early stragglers and small pilgrim groups were moving in, and beginning to set up themselves near the closed shop fronts and open areas outside the camping ground. The local police had closed down vehicular traffic from the outskirts and would now only permit vehicles with special label-stickers and permits.
The vehicles started to drive in to the camping grounds in a disciplined manner. There were some volunteers with notebooks who were checking on the label-stickers and directing the vehicles to fixed locations in the ground. Within an hour, to Mallikarjun's surprise, the entire camping ground was being taken over, methodically, from the rear to the front. Tents were coming up, and water tanks were being filled up with hoses from the connections provided at strategic points on the ground. They seemed to know exactly how to go about everything. There was no confusion and there was no chaos. The organisational power was very obvious to everyone. The front area was unoccupied, and the vehicles carrying the main tent drove in now.
By nightfall, the tents were up, including the main tent, and the rath with Sant Dnyaneshwar's paadukas came in to the cheers and sounds of cymbals, drums and veenas and the chants of lakhs of warkaris who had gathered all about. The local people were very eager to get to see the main dindis and the rath. The palkhi organisers seemed to know that they should allow the locals to get their opportunity to seek blessings and they permitted it with splendid grace. Mallikarjun was impressed. This was his first posting in the palkhi and he had not expected such splendid organisational management. He had never been in an event of such magnitude and this was something to be proud of, to be proud of his people and his culture.
The local people started queuing up to seek a view of the paadukas and the warkaris were settling down for well deserved rest. Their respective groups started cooking and serving hundreds of thousands of dinners within an hour. Nowhere, perhaps nowhere in the world, could so many separate groups of people be able to coexist in such a peaceful and efficient manner. The senior SRPF officers came over to the main police control space and spoke to the palkhi organisers. Everything seemed to be in control. One of the officers came up to Mallikarjun and asked him to move over to the queue pavilion and retain his post at that spot for the entire night. That would be the most crucial place, he was advised, and he would have to be alert.
He settled in by taking across his chair and a bench to the queue pavilion. The viewing of the paadukas had been stopped and smaller groups were being allowed in through a side entrance in the main tent. About 2-3 groups of warkaris, with their keertankars and veenkaris had also settled in under the queue pavilion as it was raining outside. They sang together, and sometimes in a challenge to one another, and at other times, they sang in sequence, taking up one verse amongst each group. It was fascinating to watch the group singing in such splendid perfection. Mallikarjun had seen such groups at Amaravati and also at Ganagapur, his native village that was south of Solapur. But, he had not seen perfection in singing, as he saw tonight.
Very soon, it was midnight, and Mallikarjun was tired. It seemed that the keertankars were not tired at all. They kept singing, loudly, softly, sometimes in a group, and sometimes, led by a single veteran. They had not repeated any of their songs and they seemed to know many many more. Surprisingly, each and every warkari or keertankar sitting in the queue pavilion seemed to know all the songs that were being sung. It was amazing, indeed, thought Mallikarjun.
The rain had thinned down, and it was only a very slow drizzle. The keertankars noticed that the night was clearing up. They pointed it out to each other, and suddenly, they stood up in a huddle and walked out of the queue pavilion, and started singing under the sky, louder and louder. It was breathtaking. Some warkaris from the other tents came to the group and started singing with them. The tempo increased, and a couple of pilgrims with drums came in to the centre and started beating up a steady rhythm. Now, the dancing started. It was not like they were dancing to a rhythm. It was more like jumping up and down on the same spot, and after a sequence of 4-5 jumps, they would jump and turn around in the air, and come down with a burst of joy and a shout, "Vittala!!!"
The tempo kept increasing, and the entire group sang together and danced for about an hour before they started tiring. It was almost past midnight, and Mallikarjun had not noticed the time passing by. Very soon, it would be 4 am, and time for the pre-dawn prayers, and it would be good to get a few hours of sleep. But, the keertankars did not seem to feel the same. They kept singing at a lower tempo, and the crowd thinned out. The outer group settled in around the inner ones and went to sleep under the open sky. The main singers settled down, sat on the ground sheet that they had spread out, and quietened down. 3-4 keertankars and two veenkaris kept singing in a low tone.
After a while, everyone was quiet, except for one keertankar, accompanied by one or the other veenkaris who kept giving him support by strumming on their veenas. It was past one a.m., and Mallikarjun could not go to sleep, mesmerised, as he was watching the lone keertankar singing softly. He did not tire, and kept singing, one abhang after the other. Very soon, the veenkaris dropped off to sleep, and the keertankar picked up the veena and strung it over his shoulders and began to strum it and sing.
It was a melody that did not seem to know how to stop. The lone keertankar kept singing slowly, and kept walking about, as though he was putting everyone to sleep. Mallikarjun was totally beside himself, and got out of his chair and went up to the keertankar and bowed in respect and touched his feet. The keertankar blessed him and went about, walking around, singing and strumming. He was singing some complicated abhangs, none of the common or usual ones. These seemed to be in never ending verse.
Everyone seemed to be asleep. Not a person stirred. The entire campground was without sound, except for the odd vehicle that drove by on the adjacent roads. Mallikarjun was watching the lone keertankar, and kept hearing his melodious voice. His voice rang out across the hundreds of pilgrims and warkaris, all asleep. He could not catch the words, but could understand the rhythm. He did not tire, and he sang softly, and kept walking around, coming near Mallikarjun and going away from him. And yet, the voice did not fade away from his ears. This was like magic.
Suddenly, it started drizzling strongly and the rains came down steadily. All those who were sleeping out in the open, picked up their ground sheets and ran to the various tents and pavilions that had been set up on the camping grounds. They seemed to know their group tents, while the entire layout looked quite confusing to Mallikarjun. In a flash, everyone had come in and there was none left in the open ground. But, the lone keertankar continued, standing below a sign board and a small tree alongside it. He seemed to be unaffected by the rain, and continued to sing.
Nobody noticed him, at first, while Mallikarjun could not take his eyes away. His song rang out from the sounds of the rain, and slowly everyone began to watch him. It was past 2.30 a.m., and he kept singing alone. The rain was not heavy, but there was infrequent lightning. And each time that the lightning struck across the sky, it lit up the space around the lone keertankar, and he seemed to glow in radiance, singing out to himself, and to everyone who heard him.
The warkaris discussed among themselves, and selected two young men to go out and convince the lone keertankar to come in to the queue pavilion and be safe. The two men went out and returned, not being able to convince him. 2-4 senior keertankars came up to Mallikarjun and asked him to go out and bring the lone keertankar back with him. Agreeing with them, he went out in the rain, carrying an umbrella, and requested the lone keertankar to return with him. He did not seem to listen to him, and kept singing.
Mallikarjun was able to watch him, from up closely, and could not understand the energy that the songs were giving out. The lone keertankar's eyes were closed, and he sang, in ecstasy. He sang slow songs of love for his god, and he sang of wanting to go to Pandharpur, immediately. And later, he complained to his god, as to why did he make the journey so long, and why could he not come away from Pandharpur to him, and be with him. And immediately thereafter, he sang, again in complaint, as to why could he not make the journey much much longer, so that he could keep singing and singing and singing.
The melody was too stunning. The appeal was emotionally uplifting for Mallikarjun. He could not move away. Slowly, he went up to the lone keertankar and extended his own umbrella over his head to protect him from the rain. The rain drenched him entirely, and Mallikarjun did not notice it at all. He was totally captured by the song and rhythm of the lone keertankar who sang about his love for Vittala and his jealousy of all the noble souls who had sought and received his blessings. He sang about why did he have to go to Pandharpur, when he knew that his god was already with him. He knew that he would be protected and cared for, he sang to his god, and that he would be somewhere nearby, watching him.
For Mallikarjun, it was like being transported to some other dimension. He could not see anyone else. He could not see the camping ground any longer. He could not see the rain, and could not feel the damp. He could not see the queue pavilion and he could not see the night. He could only hear the song, and could only catch the rhythm of the veena, strumming in obedient and yet devoted companionship to the voice of the lone keertankar. There was nothing else. And then, in one sudden flash of light, that seemed to come for a very brief micro instant, the lone keertankar was transformed, and Mallikarjun could only see Vittala under the umbrella, carrying the veena and singing in a loving voice. The very next instant, the moment was gone, and Mallikarjun could see the lone keertankar, continuing to sing.
A moment later, the lone keertankar, stopped in his song, and smiled, and said to Mallikarjun, "Oh, Mauli! My gratitude to you. Thank you for the umbrella that you held to protect me. What is the protection for, but to avoid all the strings that bend back the arrow before it is released, isn't it? I knew that my Panduranga, my Vittala would not forsake me. Just a moment ago, when I was singing, calling out to him, for one brief moment there, I could see, that he had not forsaken me. I saw you, in one very brief moment, transformed, and I saw my Panduranga in you, standing there, protecting me. I am blessed, truly blessed, my Vittala."
Glossary
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
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.
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
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..."
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.
