Panduranga Vittala!!! - the boy whose absence did not matter to anyone...

in white, millions, 

walking, chanting.... 

immersed, O Vittala!

Rameshwar was very upset and angry. He did not want to go to see the palkhi or walk with the warkaris. The 14-year old youngster was keen to attend his inter-school selection trials for Pune district. He had practiced and got himself ready for the selection trials through the past year. He had represented his school and made them proud. Mr. Venkat, the cricket coach for his school was very excited about Rameshwar’s future. He was sure that, this year at last, a boy from his school would be selected to represent Pune schools’ cricket team. But now, Rameshwar’s parents and family were getting ready to participate in the palkhi and they wanted to be with the warkaris for at least 4-5 days.

His family was very keen to go on the palkhi and it was a family tradition that everyone would participate, walk, serve and provide support. His father, Mukundrao Kulkarni, had purchased a hundred semi-woollen blankets to be given to those who would need them in the palkhi, while his uncles had similarly procured raincoats, slippers, caps, medicines and floor-mats. His mother had prepared at least 500 food packets of dry snacks that would be good-to-eat for more than 3-4 days while on the palkhi. His grandfather, Shyamrao Kulkarni, was very keen to be part of the palkhi and walk for some part of the day for the next 4-5 days.

Rameshwar figured that it would be good to speak to his grandfather and present the request that he may be allowed to go to the cricket team selections and not participate in the palkhi with the family. In any case, who would notice that he was not in the great walk, since there would be hundreds of thousands of warkaris walking from Dehu and Alandi to Pandharpur. Gathering up courage, the youngster cornered his grandfather when he was in a good mood and presented his case. He could see that his grandfather was not agreeing with him, and therefore he presented his grand argument – who would notice his absence, when there were so many in the palkhi?

That argument seemed to have won his case, for his grandfather agreed to speak to the family. They had a family conference, his parents, his grandfather, his uncles, and elder sisters. He sat quietly, away from the dinner table, pretending to check and clean his cricket kit. His father and grandfather were discussing the issue between them, and finally he heard his grandfather present his best argument, as to who would notice his absence. Everybody smiled at that statement, including his uncles, who normally did not agree with his cricket and other hobbies. Rameshwar’s mother kept smiling and laughing and said, “Yes.... he does not know... who will actually notice his absence. Let him go to his cricket. He will learn about his absence.”

Mukundrao Kulkarni spoke to his son, “You know that you are a big boy now. You can take your own decisions. There was no need to speak to your grandfather first. You could have told me or your mother. Anyway, let it be. Go for your cricket selection trials. After all, we have purchased the best cricket set for you, and it cost a lot of money. And, you have practiced for the trials through this year and you played well in some of the matches.” Then, there seemed to be a moment, for they were all smiling at him, including his grandfather. His mother spoke, adding to his father’s permission, and she was smiling when she said, “Go to your cricket. There is no need to worry about the palkhi. After all, as you said, who will notice your absence?”

Rameshwar was puzzled about their amusement at his grand argument, but he was happy that he had gotten away from the palkhi. His family was to leave for the pilgrimage within an hour or so, and he picked up his cricket kit, extra running shoes and track suit and whatever, and escaped from the house. The stadium and selection trials location was nearby and he walked it up to the grounds. The other boys were already there, and he could see that Mr. Venkat, the cricket coach, was looking angry and upset at his late arrival. There were cricket coaches from other schools and the selection team from the district cricket board was busy writing notes.

Mr. Venkat rushed him to the nets and got him ready and had him batting it out against a series of bowlers of all types. There were pacers, medium pacers and spinners. He kept his wicket, and played it cautiously in the beginning, and later opened out, cracking the balls all about the ground. After all, he had the best cricket bat that money could buy, and the best cricket kit that any school boy could have. He had had the best training and he knew that he was the best in the ground, in the selection trials. He could now see the smile on Mr. Venkat.

His cricket bat was making the sweetest of sounds as it hit the leather ball. Clean, sharp and a very loud sound that could be heard by the selectors. There was another boy, at the nets alongside his, and he was hitting the ball hard, but the sound was not as sharp or loud as his bat could. Rameshwar looked at the boy with disdain, for his clothes were soiled, and his bat looked very old. He was trying his best, for he had also kept his wicket through the tryout, and he was hitting the ball hard, but the difference between the two was very obvious.

Their batting time slot was over, and Rameshwar and the scrappy looking boy walked to the tents that had been set up. Rameshwar went to his school tent, while the other boy was sitting out in the open, amongst other similar looking boys. He asked his coach, “Sir, why are those boys sitting in the open? Does their school not have a tent like ours?” Mr. Venkat replied, “No. Those boys are not from any particular school in Pune. They are from the rural schools. They are selected in a group and they come here from different villages. They are not from any single school. The tents belong to the schools that have brought them here.”

Rameshwar was told that there would be time for the selections to be announced. They would initially name a list of thirty boys, and there would be a second round of selections, and they would later name a list of fifteen. Knowing that there would be time, Rameshwar went off to walk around the canteen and the other food-stalls that were outside the stadium. There were food-stalls serving simple vada pav and misal pav. One of the good food-stalls was also serving a simple pizza and burgers. That would be good, he thought, and he had been given a good amount of money to take care of himself for the next 4-5 days. He was King of himself, for the next few days, and he could easily afford to treat himself to a pizza, he thought.

The boys from his school and other ‘tent-schools’ rushed off to the various food-stalls, while Rameshwar was quietly do the arithmetic of the amount of money that he had been given and the amount that he could comfortably spend on the ‘good’ food-items versus the ‘okay’ food-items. Let the beginning be good, he thought, and let it be with a pizza and a coke. As he walked up to the stall, he saw the scrappy boy from the nets walking about, looking at the price lists of the various food-stalls. He saw him walk out of the food mall and walk to a pavement hawker selling bananas. The boy got two bananas for himself and came back to the food mall and sat at the table that Rameshwar was sitting with his pizza and coke. 

Rameshwar was worried. His mother had taught him that he should always share his food. And now, this boy from rural Pune was sitting in front of him, with two bananas, and obviously with very less money. He had his precious pizza and coke, and his mind went about like, "Share! Do not Share! Share! Do not Share!" Giving up on the dilemma, Rameshwar split his pizza and offered it to the scrappy boy, who said, "Bhau! Thank you. I do not know what it is. I have heard the word 'pizza' but I do not know if it is vegetarian or non-vegetarian. I do not know these good looking food items. And today is the first day of the palkhi, so, I went and got myself these two bananas. My parents had told me to eat only 'good' food."

He felt like he had been slapped by his mother. His parents, uncles and grandfather had not eaten anything in the morning, and they had decided to first seek the blessings of Sant Dnyaneshwar's palkhi rath and only later would they eat something simple. Anyway, this boy did not know that his family was going to the palkhi, so it would not matter. In any case, he could now eat the entire pizza. But, the boy was saying something, and he listened, "Bhau! Here, you can have one banana. I will get some more. My family is at the palkhi and they told me that the prayers would be at 11 am, and I can safely eat anything else after that."

Rameshwar quietened his mind and relaxed at the boy's sincerity. He asked him, "Where are you from? How come you had that old bat that could not hit the ball with force? You kept your wicket intact through the entire trials, and yet, it may difficult to impress the selectors." The boy replied, "I am Govind, and I am from Junnar. My school has a good cricket team, and we won some of the regional tournaments. My school has sent our team players to Mumbai for selections in some of the companies that play Kanga league. That way our boys will get jobs in Mumbai. That's why I have the oldest bat from the school. All the good bats and kit were taken by the boys who need jobs."

Puzzled, Rameshwar asked, "Do you not need a job then? Why are you here for the selection trials for inter-school teams?" Govind, the scrappy boy replied, "I did want to go with them. But, I could not get permission from my family. They have already left for the palkhi and will be at Alandi today. They gave me permission to attend the selection trials and I will be joining them today in the evening at Pune city. I am sure that the selectors will not select me, for I do not have a good bat, and I do not look as good as the city boys. I know that I am good, and I would be a good player, but, I cannot compete against the good schools in the city. I wanted to try out, and I wanted to keep my wicket and show that I am a good player. Rest, I leave it up to Panduranga."

"Panduranga? How is he going to help?" asked Rameshwar, "You need to compete properly, don't you? You have to do your work. How can a god come and help you in the selection trials?" Govind, the scrappy boy, smiled, raised his hands and gestured at the heavens and went away to the stadium. Rameshwar finished eating up his pizza and coke and went to his school tent. Mr. Venkat was eating up his lunch, and asked for all the boys to check their cricket kits and get ready for the second round of selection. Rameshwar looked out at the open ground to locate Govind, who was sitting under the hot sun, looking very happy and content. 

The selection lists were announced and the thirty boys lined up. Rameshwar stood next to Govind, and looked happy for him. Govind was also smiling, and told him, "See, you asked about Panduranga. He sees, and he knows. He knows that I am absent from the palkhi, and he wants me there, with my parents, and he wants me to come to him, walking all the way. He does not want me here in the cricket team. Mind you, I am sure that I will not be in the final fifteen. But, I am going to go out there, and give it my best." 

Again, Rameshwar felt the slap from his mother. He closed his eyes. He could see her. She was smiling. She was saying, "Do not worry, my son. Go ahead and play. Nobody will notice your absence. Win your place in the team and make us proud. We have spent a lot of money in your cricket and you should not let us down. We want to see you in the team." They were together again, he and Govind, paired up for the third round of nets, to bat it out side by side. 

He looked at Govind, slowly and without making it obvious. He did not have cricket shoes. He seemed to have coloured them white, using some paint, but they were definitely not cricket shoes. His trousers were two sizes larger, and must have been borrowed. The gloves were torn, and so were the pads. He had placed white tape over the spots, but they had become dirty and it was easily seen. The bat was perhaps from some very old times, and had been used for many many years. But, it looked strong and capable. Govind looked up at Rameshwar and was smiling, and said, "You are looking at my kit. Yes. I know that I do not have a good kit for playing today. But, I am in the final selection. So that means, that this bat has some value at least. I will go back to join my family in the palkhi and will tell them that I tried my best, but that Panduranga Vittala had other plans for me. They will understand."

Mr. Venkat was standing nearby and he had heard the entire discussion. In one brief moment, Rameshwar made up his mind and looked at Mr. Venkat. He seemed to understand and perhaps he could guess as to what was to happen. Rameshwar spoke to Govind, and said, "Here, take my bat and my kit. You go out and play the best you can. I will take my chance in the next nets after you. I will take back my  kit. This is your best chance. You keep talking about Panduranga Vittala, and that he will notice your absence in the palkhi. That is not possible. You have to give your best where you are, and not worry about him."

Govind, the scrappy boy seemed to be about to break out in tears. They changed their kits rapidly, and he went out to show his skills. Mr. Venkat replaced Rameshwar's place with another boy from the same school. Both of them watched Govind smash the bowlers all over the stadium. They could see the difference in the batting, and the change in the boy's confidence. He was enjoying himself. Mr. Venkat turned to Rameshwar and asked him if he would like to take his place in the next round of nets. 

Rameshwar replied, "No, Sir. Let that boy keep my kit. He is a good player. You may please forgive me. I will leave the selection trials and go and join my family at the palkhi. They would be waiting for me. Please tell him that I wanted him to have the entire cricket kit. I am leaving my kit bags also for him along with the shoes and track suits. I cannot carry them with me in the palkhi. Tell him to call me on my cellphone and let me know the names of his parents and the number of their dindi. I will meet them and tell them that he could not join them on the palkhi. And that it does not matter, for who will notice his absence in the palkhi?"

Within a couple of hours, Rameshwar was at the outskirts of Alandi, and had spoken to his sister and figured out the location of his family. The entire family was at a stall of a volunteer group and were helping out. They had already distributed the stuff that they had brought with them, and his grandfather was just about completing his two hour walk with the palkhi. Nobody seemed surprised to see Rameshwar join them at the stall. The uncles were smiling and so was his father and mother. Shyamrao, his grandfather, came up and saw Rameshwar standing with the family and asked, "What happened? Did you not get selected?"

"I was about to get selected, but then, I gave away my kit bag and cricket bag, shoes and track suits to a boy from Junnar. He did not have a good kit with him, and he was playing very good cricket," Rameshwar replied, "His parents are also on the palkhi, and he was sure that he would not get selected, and so he wanted to join his parents and walk with them on the entire palkhi. He was sure that Panduranga Vittala would notice his absence in the palkhi, and therefore would not select him for the inter-school tournaments. He did not have any idea of how good a cricketer he was. So, I gave him my entire kit."

He waited for their anger, and his father's comments about how he had wasted their money on the best cricket kit that there could be, as he often said. But, they were all smiling and laughing at him. His mother said, "Rameshwara, O Rameshwara, you were the one who said that your absence would not matter. And you are worried that the other boy's absence would indeed matter? See... Do you see what happened? Your absence did matter to Panduranga Vittala, and he wanted you here, with us. And you gave that boy's parents the happiness that they would want, for they did not want their son with them. They wanted their son to achieve what was due to him, and you helped them. There is no mystery in his ways, my son." 


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.
bhau = brother
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.
misal pav = snack dish. Comprising deep-fried and soaked cereals and savouries immersed in a curry with bread loaves. 
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.
vada pav = a snack, with origins from Maharashtra - comprising a bread loaf sandwiching a deep-fried potato dish.
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.

Panduranga Vittala!!! - the reluctant pilgrim who enjoyed the pilgrimage

faces in prayer, strangers all.... 

greetings in recognition, in each one, 

they see you, again, again, O Vittala!!!

He had gotten away from his dindi in the Sant Dnyaneshwar palkhi. It was the fourth day and this was Mohan Menon's first palkhi. He was content to walk slowly, move about amongst the other groups, watch everything that was happening, and enjoy the momentum of thee hundreds of thousands of devotees walking from Dehu and Alandi to Pandharpur. The energy was tremendous. They were smiling, laughing and singing and chanting. Some groups suddenly would break into a synchronised dance, and in one amazing moment, they would stop and resume walking. Most devotees, walking by themselves, were looking very serious, and were chanting, "Om Ram Krishna Hari", and did not seem to participate in the activities of the groups.

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.

Panduranga Vittala!!! - the stubborn old man who listened to his own heart

it is that time again, that month...

time to walk, million million steps,

unable, I wait here, for you, O Vittala!!!

They were all shocked. The old man was adamant. He had suddenly declared that he would go away to walk with the lakhs of warkaris on the palkhi from Dehu and Alandi via Pune to Pandharpur. Zubin was always like that. Deciding suddenly, and resisting all arguments and going by his own wish. Beheram, his son, tried to convince him that this was not the age to suddenly go ahead and do something that a 75 year old had not done earlier. Kerban, his daughter-in-law, nodded vigorously. She added, for good measure, "We are Parsis, and this is not in our culture. Why do you want to go walking to Pandharpur, all the way in rain, sun and with so many people, for heaven's sakes?"

Zubin and Beheram smiled at Kerban's arguments. Beheram knew that such arguments would not work with his father. Questioning him about religious or spiritual  thought would never work. It had never worked over these many years, and Beheram had gradually come around to accepting universal values while remaining a Parsi, in his inner core. Zubin was an explorer, as his mother had told him, bless her. Beheram's mother sat in front of the TV at their house in near the Five Gardens at Dadar Parsi Colony, Mumbai, and did not enter the arguments. She knew her Zubin, and she knew her Beheram. They would end up doing whatever Zubin wanted to do, and they would do it with enthusiasm and genuine spirit.

As expected, the next day, a too-good Sunday that should not be wasted on anything but cooking and eating and sleeping, Beheram drove his Bullet 350CC motorbike, with his father, Zubin, on the pillion, from Mumbai to Pune. His father was all packed up and eager to be on the palkhi and to walk the many days to Pandharpur. Beheram did not find it strange at all. He expected it to happen, going by the sudden bouts of discussion that his father had been having with his friends from Pune. They had planned it carefully, having done many such journeys together.

They met up with the group of friends at the exit of the highway from Mumbai, near Dehu. They had been waiting for them at the junction before the Dehu cantonment. The friends had hired an airconditioned bus for support and logistics during the palkhi and they had determined that they would stay about 5-10 kms behind the entire group. They would walk about, join in the activities, move ahead and back, and not be a burden on the several groups of warkaris in their dindis. All friends were new to the palkhi. They did not want anyone to be worried about them and have to take care of them.

The group had registered themselves with the various helplines and the police. With all required permissions obtained, they had also placed a banner over their bus, proclaiming that they were with the pilgrimage. The palkhi had just about started from Dehu, and Zubin was impatient to get on with it. Sensing it, Beheram gave him a hug and drove back on his bike to Mumbai.

Zubin was happy. He looked forward to any excuse to get out of his house. At 75, he needed to get away. Beheram's mother was very content to stay at home and be with her friends, her grandchildren and to retain control over the kitchen. His friends had planned this out over the past month, and they had been quite enterprising. They were friends for many years now, and the group had also acquired some younger ones, sons, brothers, neighbors and support guys. They were a mixed group, businessmen, teachers, corporate honchos, tradesmen, including a police officer and a police constable, a customs officer from the Mumbai airport and a canteen manager. They had come together over the years in treks, expeditions and journeys and continued to travel together.

Very soon, they were on the move. They had decided against following the palkhi while on the route from Dehu towards Pune city. They drove out of the main route and went out of the city through the bypass to Katraj and went back to Hadapsar and drove out to Dive Ghat. They were now ahead of the palkhi by two days. They could use these two days to organise, plan, purchase and stock up. One of the group, Chaitanya Reddy, had given instructions to his office staff to purchase vegetables and groceries at Hadapsar and bring it over at Dive Ghat. His office manager had scouted a good parking location, away from the road, with water supply nearby. They would camp here, and plan their itinerary with the palkhi among all the members of the group. The late joiners would also be able to meet up with the group at this location.

The group set up their camp by  rolling out a tarpaulin sheet with one end attached to the side of the bus. The other end was set up with tall bamboo poles. This provided a large tent-like space alongside the bus. They had hired a cook and a helper for this pilgrimage, and along with the driver, lunch had been prepared, with everyone helping out, and it was time to rest, and look forward to the long walk that was to come. Just after lunch, it started drizzling and the rain began pouring in, steadily. The group moved inside the bus to seek shelter and sleep through a siesta during the noon. But, it was not to be...

There was a series of knocks on the side of their bus and a police constable opened the door and entered along with an undertrial prisoner with his hands cuffed. The handcuffs were tied to a thick rope that was held by the constable to prevent the prisoner from being able to escape. Arvind Adarkar greeted the constable on behalf of the group, "Ya, Mauli! Come in. Take some shelter from the rain. Are you on your way to Pune or to Pandharpur? Do not tell us that you are going to walk all the way to Pandharpur with your prisoner!!!"

The constable and the prisoner laughed. The constable explained that they had taken a lift in a private car after their bus had broken down with a puncture after Saswad, and now, the car had gone off the road due to the heavy rains on the ghat, and they had been walking down. He had to take the prisoner to the courts in Pune for a hearing on the morrow, and return to Pandharpur Tahsil Jail immediately thereafter. How he would cross the palkhi, he did not know, and perhaps he would take the train to Solapur and get back to Pandharpur before the pilgrims could take over the roads. They had seen the bus and tent nearby and guessed that they could take some respite from the rains outside.

Adarkar asked the cook and his helpers to make a round of hot tea for everybody and gave some towels to the constable and the prisoner to dry themselves up. Reddy gave a pair of t-shirts and lungis to them so that they could get out of their damp clothes. Very soon, after a cup of hot tea, the pilgrims were watching an unusual sight, with both the constable and the pilgrim out of their uniforms, and wearing identical t-shirts and lungis and  with the thick rope tied to each others' wrists. They had scrubbed themselves dry and now, none of them could tell them apart. Which one was the policeman and which one was the prisoner?

Zubin started laughing and had a tough time holding on to his hot cup of tea. He pointed to the policeman and the prisoner, and said, "Look! This is magic. They are both the same now. The policeman could be the qaidi and the prisoner could be the policewallah. What if the prisoner took the policeman to the courts at Pune tomorrow?!!!" Everyone laughed, including the two visitors. The policeman replied, "O Bawa, do you know that you are correct? This prisoner was caught while helping some old ladies on the palkhi, at night, while they were shivering and cold, and may have perhaps died. This idiot was a vagrant warkari, without any dindi or any group. He went and broke into a clothes store after Renapur and took out some woollen blankets and gave them to the women. He was caught by the shopkeeper and a police complaint was filed. He has a better heart than most policemen that I know."

The entire group looked up at this story, after all, this undertrial was also a pilgrim, a fellow warkari, and he should have been appreciated for his deed. Zubin was angry. He asked, "Who was the idiot shopkeeper who filed the complaint? Did the local police not know about the reason?" The policeman replied, "Everyone knew. This chap had no money with him and the local people were very angry with the pilgrims. Each year they come to their town and disturb them. Some shopkeepers are upset while most of them are happy to welcome the palkhi. Perhaps this shopkeeper had a really bad experience. Who knows?"

Zubin asked, "Now, what will happen to him? Who is going to help him? Have the police helped him get a lawyer? Does he have money to defend himself?" While the rest of the group were not surprised, the policeman was puzzled at the anger. Yet, he replied calmly, "Bawaji, you know the system, don't you? Do you think he has any chance? He does not even have any money to purchase a cup of tea. He has no brains. If he had any sense, he would not have broken into the shop. Now, if the magistrate is kind, he will release him on first offence and intentions and maybe place him on watch and ask him to report to the police station for six months. If the magistrate goes by the rule, this idiot will be in for six months at least."

The entire group looked at Zubin. They knew him from many years. They knew the way he thought and acted, right out of his heart. They waited. Zubin did not disappoint them. He burst out in anger, "Nonsense. This cannot be allowed to happen. He has to have a lawyer, and he has to be released. I want him released tomorrow. He has to come on the palkhi with us, and I will take him to Pandharpur. Or, I will not go. Let Panduranga wait for me. I cannot go to Pandharpur without this foolish boy."

All his friends nodded with him. They were not shocked or upset. This was the right thing to do. Adarkar also said in support, "Zubin, my friend, I say, let Panduranga wait for all of us. Let us get this done tomorrow at the courts." The policeman looked at the prisoner, and said, "See... did I not tell you? Your actions were noble. You did it in the service of Vittala's devotees. So what if some policemen and some shopkeepers were strict about it. They did their job and now, we see the miracle of Panduranga."

Zubin spoke to Adarkar and Reddy, "I will call my daughter-in-law's friends here in Pune. They are all lawyers at the local courts. They are very good and efficient. Wait a moment." Saying thus, he called up Kerban, at Mumbai, "Maro Dikri, listen. Yes, yes... I know. When I call you as 'Maro Dikri', it usually means that I am pulling some stunt. Yes. But listen, this is for a good cause. I need you to talk to your friends in Pune, lawyers, and have them come and meet me below Dive Ghat in Hadapsar. I need legal help in getting an undertrial released tomorrow in a hearing at the Pune Sessions Court."

"Yes, Maro Dikri, help me now, please. Talk to your friends. I have promised that I will not go to Pandharpur until and unless I free him, and now, my entire group of friends have also promised that they will not go on the palkhi. Don't laugh, Kerban. And do not tell Beheram about this. He is an idiot. He will also come back from Mumbai and will get involved in this. This is an easy job. I just need a lawyer, a smart lawyer, tomorrow morning, and by afternoon, we can get this foolish chap released and we will be on our way, following the palkhi."

After a while, Zubin shut off his cellphone, and spoke to the policeman, "There, that is done. Tomorrow we will go to the court together. My daughter-in-law will get us some lawyers, and they will bring their vehicles, and we will get this idiot released immediately. I am sure that those lawyers will have a thousand reasons to give to prove that this fellow is innocent." The policeman replied, "Thank you. I was worried about this fellow. He seems really demented, going around helping people without any reason. What relation was he to those two women? Why did he have to help them? Nothing. None."

Zubin replied, "What do we know? We must be related. All of us. You also. Otherwise, why would you bring him here, today, in the rain? Why would your bus break down? Why would the car go off the road? Each and every problem that we face, daunting ones too, they lead us towards a solution, however miraculous it may be. Now, both of you stay in this bus. Do not go anywhere. We will go to the courts together, tomorrow."

Saying thus, Zubin turned to the prisoner and said, "Be careful. Keep a watch on the policeman. Do not let him get away. We have to take him to the courts together tomorrow. We will ask the courts to release the policeman from his job of escorting you. We will go to Pandharpur together, only if you are a free man. I am sure that Panduranga will wait for us to meet him, together, the two of us."


Glossary 
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
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
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.