Panduranga Vittala!!! - of a daughter who went away...

absolute devotion, she walks....

alone, in ten thousand women, 

a river to an ocean, O Vittala!!!

Her daughter came back from school, giggling, happy and screaming "Holiday! Tomorrow is a holiday! No school tomorrow!" Suchitra checked the school diary-book from her 7-year old daughter's schoolbag, and read the class teacher's remark - "Palkhi - one day holiday". She wondered what it was, and picked up  the newspaper. She felt guilty. She should have known. There it was, all over page 2 and 3 - Sant Tukaram's palkhi and Sant Dnyaneshwar's palkhi to come in to Pune from Dehu and Alandi before they went ahead, walking on the  200 kilometre route to Pandharpur. They would be in Pune for nearly more than 24 hours.

Her daughter, Rimi, had calmed down now, and was asking about help in completing her homework right away because of something about with Raghav somebody, to the wari something tomorrow. Who was this Raghav? How did her daughter already have friends? Three months in Pune, and Suchitra only knew 2-3 neighbours who were also new to the city.

The phone was ringing and Suchitra answered it. Apparently, Raghav's mother, Mrs. Kulkarni was also a resident in the same apartment building. She was about to come and visit her. Rimi had been listening eagerly to the one-sided conversation but seemed to have guessed  the discussion from the other end. She said, "Mummy! He is my friend, Raghav, in my class. She is bringing something for you to eat!" Suchitra was worried. Something to eat? Why? Why would someone bring something to eat at someone else's house? Again, she felt guilty in thinking in such a manner. What was wrong with her?

Mrs. Vandana Kulkarni was a very affectionate, happy and refreshing lady. Already, she was beginning to like her. She had brought about 10-15 puran polis with her, hot and freshly made. OK, she could handle this, thought Suchitra. She knew about puran polis, and went into the kitchen to heat a bowl of ghee. The kids were happy and were working on their homework books together. They seemed to be eager to get it done very fast.

Mrs. Kulkarni was reading the Times of India with a very serious expression. She looked up at Suchitra and said, "This paper is not like our Marathi newspaper. You will never be able to know about the palkhi. It is more than Dussehra or Diwali or Holi. Even bigger than the Ganeshotsav." Declaring thus, she spoke about the Dehu-Alandi palkhi and its annual journey to Pandharpur. She told Suchitra about the lakhs of pilgrims called warkaris, who made the sacred pilgrimage, considering it to be their bond with Panduranga Vittala. Finally, she declared that, since it was a holiday tomorrow for the children, they could go and visit the palkhi, and watch the warkaris walking by from Alandi to Pune city.

The next day, Suchitra and Rimi were standing in a huge crowd on the pavement, with Mrs. Kulkarni and Raghav. This road would be the main route for the Sant Dnyaneshwar palkhi from Alandi enroute to inner Pune city. Suchitra held Rimi's hand tightly, unused to Pune's crowds, though she was quite familiar with the Durga puja celebrations in Kolkatta. Those were what you would term as 'crowds', she thought to herself. The scene at this moment was just like people waiting to cross the road in any traffic junction of Kolkatta.

Someone came and attempted to place a sacred chandan mark on her forehead with a small rod, and Suchitra tried to refuse, but Mrs. Kulkarni asked her to allow it, for that would help other devotees recognise her as one of their own. She looked at Mrs. Kulkarni's forehead mark, ashtagandh, as she called it, and thought, well, it was okay. It looked nice. Rimi was standing quietly, and listening to Raghav explain something about a bullock-cart that would come with the pilgrims. He was telling her about its importance and that the rath, as the cart was known, would carry the sacred symbolic paadukas of Sant Dnyaneshwar and that there would be a surge of the entire crowd to rush to seek its blessings when it would pass by in front of them.

The palkhi was just about beginning to increase its numbers. There seemed to be city pilgrims walking in front eagerly, and they would be followed by the first of the banners and flags announcing the actual dindis who were in disciplined groups, ahead of the rath, the the sacred bullock-cart, with Sant Dnyaneshwar's paadukas resting in them. Each dindi, or organised group of warkaris, were walking proudly, happily, for this was the first day of the palkhi. The warkaris were signing, chanting and keeping pace among themselves and the sounds of the cymbals seemed to overpower all other sounds of the road.

Suchitra kept a close watch on the eager faces of Rimi and Raghav, while Mrs. Kulkarni was happily waving at the warkaris, who were waving back at her with chants of "Om Ram Krishna Hari! Om Ram Krishna Hari!" An oldsih looking warkari, with a veena, came up from behind Suchitra, to walk into the palkhi. Some local boys and ladies touched his feet in respect, and an eldrly lady placed some money in the warkari's hands. "It is the tradition," Mrs. Kulkarni explained, "These are 'mahinyache warkaris', and they move about through the month. One is blessed when one helps them. Come, let us also take his blessings."

Mrs. Kulkarni and Suchitra  went up to the elderly warkari, touched his feet, and they gave him some money. He did not seem to notice the money, if at all, but kept strumming the veena, and  kept reciting, "Om Ram Krishna Hari!" without any break. He was waiting, looking for a break in the group of dindis, to start walking alongside, without disturbing anyone. Suchitra turned back to catch hold of Rimi's hands, and noticed that Raghav was by himself and her daughter was not to be seen. She asked Raghav, in panic, "Rimi! Where is Rimi?" Raghav also looked around, and seemed to realise at that moment that Rimi was not with him.

Mrs. Kulkarni asked Raghav, and he looked scared. He said, "I do not know. She was standing here, next to me, just now. I was watching her, and I had just turned about to see the palkhi. When aunty called out, I saw that she was not there." Suchitra was running about in the crowd and asking everyone. The group of local boys and ladies who had been standing nearby were also moving about, searching. Mrs. Kulkarni stood at the same spot, with Raghav, holding him by his hand, and was calling out, "RIMI, RIMIIII!!!"

The elderly warkari, with the veena, turned around at the noise and came up to Mrs. Kulkarni to enquire about the matter. He was told about the missing daughter. He looked at Raghav and asked, "Do you remember, boy, if she wanted to go somewhere? To buy any biscuits? or go to fetch drinking water? or, did anyone ask her to go with them?" Raghav turned to his mother, who nodded assuringly, and asked him to reply. The boy answered, "No, she was just standing with me. She is new to Pune, and she would not go anywhere. Her father has given her strict instructions, she told me. Her mother has brought everything, biscuits, chocolates, water and some tiffin also."

Suchitra came back to the spot and asked Mrs. Kulkarni if she had any luck. The elderly warkari looked at her and asked if Rimi had asked her about going anywhere. Suchitra heard the kind voice and the question and broke down, crying and saying, "Oh! It is my fault. I did not keep holding her hand. I left her hand for only one small moment, and she was gone. What will I tell her father? Why did I bring her to see the palkhi? What if my daughter is lost to me? How will Panduranga Vittala and the palkhi and all the warkaris help?"

The elderly warkari heard the anguished plea from Suchitra, wanting to know about how Panduranga Vittala would help. He strummed his veena, recited silently, "Om Ram Krishna Hari!" and said to Mrs. Kulkarni, "O tai, it is said that Panduranga Vittala and his devotee are but like mother and child. How is it that one can be separated from one another? If she was here as a devotee, she would be with Vittala, where else? For a child, how will she know that is capable of not having any devotion?"

Mrs. Kulkarni nodded in agreement, and tried to console Suchitra. The local boys had gone out in search of Rimi, and the ladies had started asking the local policemen and home guards to help. The elderly warkari told Suchitra, "Beti, this is the palkhi, and today is the first day. Seek his blessings, for your daughter must be somewhere nearby. Do not worry. She is not lost. When you are with Vittala, your devotion to him is like a ball of fire. Do not tie it up, as Tuka says. Let it be open and seek its comfort."

Suchitra thanked the elderly warkari, and replied, "Brother, thank you. She is a good girl. She would not go anywhere without any permission. You are correct. She must be somewhere nearby. As you say, Brother, Om Ram Krishna Hari!!! I pray, Vittala, that my daughter is safe, and she should be returned to me safely." Saying thus, she turned to search for Rimi, asking people if she had been seen anywhere. The local shopkeepers, residents and hawkers were all being asked similarly by the boys and ladies who had seen Rimi earlier.

Suddenly, there was a shout. It  was none other than Raghav. He was pointing towards the edge of the palkhi as it was walking by, and Suchitra could see, through the crowd, that Rimi was trying to get back to her from the road. She ran to her, pushing herself through the crowd, and caught hold of Rimi and brought her back to where Mrs. Kulkarni, Raghav and the elderly warkari stood. The local boys and ladies also came together, exclaiming happily that the threat had passed without any trauma. Rimi looked quite happy, peaceful and very calm.

Rimi said, excitedly, "Oh, Mummy! I went to see the rath, to see the paadukas, as Raghav told me. It was so beautiful. When he described it to me, I wanted to go and see it immediately. The rath was nearby, and I ran out to touch the paadukas, and someone, with a tall silvery-white staff hanging behind him, picked me up, and allowed me to sit with the priests on the rath. They allowed me to touch the paadukas and placed a garland around my neck and gave me prasad for you all. Here I am, back from the rath!"

Indeed, so it was, for there was a garland around her neck, and she was carrying some blessed offerings with her. The elderly warkari, Mrs. Kulkarni and the ladies nearby looked around puzzled, and looked at the passing palkhi, and again looked at Rimi, in a very strange manner. Suchitra was disturbed, and asked, "Why do you all look at my daughter in that manner? She must have just gone to the rath and got the blessings and returned. That's why we could not see her at all. She was on the rath."

It was the elderly warkari who answered, "Yes, my sister, your daughter that went away, to seek blessings in the rath and returned... she did so, but the point is that the sacred Sant Dnyaneshwar's rath, carrying his sacred paadukas, is still at a distance of 2-3 kilometres away. This is just the crowd that walks hurriedly before the palkhi, and the irregular dindis. The actual palkhi of Dnyanba is yet to come. But, your daughter is indeed carrying the garland from the paadukas. I would recognise them anywhere. Even the packet containing the sacred offerings. This is from the rath."

Saying thus, the elderly warkari exclaimed, "O Panduranga Vittala, you know that this small girl does not know anything about the palkhi, about prayers or about walking to Pandharpur. And yet, you cheat us all, so many lakhs of us, who seek you at Pandharpur, by picking her away and granting her wish? We are at fault, O Vittala, for we seek you somewhere else. Your name alone is enough, but, she does not even know your name and she does not even chant it. And, yet, you string us all together like pearls on a necklace!!!"


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.
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
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
prasad = sacred offerings presented to the deities. Some part of it is usually returned to the devotee.
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.

Panduranga Vittala!!! - the old lady pilgrim who was tired...

puzzled, she walks, the old lady pilgrim.... 

warned of tiring feet, chanting, 

discovering flight, she glides, O Vittala!!!

She was tired. Her old legs seemed to be failing her now. It was just the first day. Her group of warkaris, all women, were placed every year, ahead of the sacred rath transporting the holy paadukas of her beloved Dnyanba. The problem was that all the lady warkaris were full of energy, and were extremely eager to push on rapidly ahead. This was her twentieth wari, and she had been strong each year, keeping pace with the best of her team mates. But, this year seemed to be difficult and very different. Her heart and body and legs were not as energetic as her mind was.

She had fasted for the previous two days, as she had done, all these twenty years before the start of the wari. The fatigue and weakness was catching up with her now, as she had started walking from Alandi to Pune. The crowds had swelled up, as they would, between Dehu, Alandi and Pune and seemed to be indisciplined. The dindis were however, regulated in a very strict manner.

Today, her legs seemed to be failing her. She was beginning to feel the pain. She could not walk as fast as the others. This was just the first day of the palkhi. She wondered if she could keep going all the way to Pandharpur in time for the Ashaad Ekadashi. Would she get to see her very dear Panduranga? Would Vittala, her most dear and beloved Vittala give strength to her 82 year old legs, and tired and weakened body and help her walk all the way to Pandharpur? She kept seeing the enthusiasm of her team members, and was feeling scared of slowing down her group and causing a scare on the very first day. It would have been extremely inauspicious.

Her mind told her to go on, but her feet were unable to walk at the same speed. She turned to a youngish team mate, walking alongside her, and said, "I am unable to walk, for now, and I am frightened. Today is the first day."

The young lady smiled at her and replied, "O tai, do not worry. You will complete the wari, and the next year, you will again be walking with me. Your body and legs are only rusty. It will be painful in the first 2-3 days only." Reassured, the old lady smiled, feeling the pain in her legs, and tried to walk, chanting, "Om Ram Krishna Hari, Om Ram Krishna Hari." But, the legs did not seem to respond. She turned to the young lady again, and said, "Vittala!!! Give me strength! I am unable to keep up for now. Let me sit someplace, and rest for some time. I will catch up with you later. We are all going to be at Pune for tonight."

The young lady nodded in agreement and replied, "Make it to the usual house where we always stay on the first night at Pune. You can rest there tonight. If you get lost, ask for someone's help and call me on my mobile phone. Do not worry." Reassured, the old lady stepped out of the orderly palkhi and went up to a bus-stand and sat under the shade. It felt extremely good, to rest there.

It had rained all day, the day before, and there did not seem to be any hint of rain for now. She would have welcomed the rains, for she would have been able to gain her strength. She thought back to her younger days, when she would run about, getting wet in the rain. At that time, nobody scolded her for doing so, and all the girls in the village had usually joined her in the mischief. Most of her childhood friends, boys and girls, had gone, passed away, before her. She could not recollect if any of her childhood friends were alive any more. She wondered if she was only eighty-two years old, for it seemed like a lot more, for sure.

She watched the palkhi go by, all groups walking in a disciplined manner, with their banners aloft, and their flags flying proudly. This was the first day, and all pilgrims were eager, happy and walking spiritedly. The local devotees had lined up along the street and gathered in good numbers. There were other devotees seated at the bus-stand, and one of them had stood up and offered his seat to her. They knew that she was a warkari, and the young lad had looked proud to have been able to help her.

The years were going by, she realised. She had never been tired in the wari as she had been today. It was strange, she thought. She had never wondered or thought about her childhood friends for many years. Today, she was remembering them as they were, all together at 8-10 years of age, happy, uncaring, playful, unfearing and united in all their games and activities. She remembered their names, and she could recollect them, one by one. What was strange was that she could not remember them as adults, after they had got married and had children or as old persons.

Memories were very strange, she told herself. Some things you remember and some events or people are absolutely out of memory. How do we forget? she wondered. A young girl, possibly about 8 years old, came walking out of the crowd that was watching the warkaris walk towards Pune. This girl did not seem to be watching the people. She came walking directly to the old woman pilgrim. The old lady wondered about the girl, for her style of clothes were totally unlike those that she saw on girls of that age in these days. The clothes, were, she wondered to herself as to how she could put it - the clothes were very old, and the style was also very old.

The girl came directly to the old lady and smiled. The old lady smiled back, and looked at her curiously. The girl placed her hands on her hips, and said, "O Kashi, why are you sitting here? Why are you not walking with the others?" The old lady was stunned that this young girl knew her name and was so bold to ask her so directly, and seemed to be so impudent. Kashi, for that was her name, asked in reply, "You know my name? Who are you?"

The girl replied, "You do not remember me, O Kashi? How can you be so forgetful. Look at me closely. I am Jana, your childhood friend. We used to run away from our village school teacher and go to collect tamarind for all our friends. Look at me closely!"

Kashi looked at the girl closely, and fought with her memories. Yes. This girl did look like Jana, and she knew her with all her love and affection of so many years. She asked, "How did you come here, at this moment? Are you also walking with the palkhi? I was feeling tired. This is the first time that I am feeling tired in the twenty years that I have been walking with the palkhi. Today, my feet are refusing to obey me. They seem to have given up."

Jana, the 8 year old girl, replied, "O Kashi, how can you say that you are tired? You were the one with the most energy in our  group. Remember, 75 years ago, you had run all along the railway train when it had come to our village for the first time. None of us could keep up with you. How can you say that you cannot walk? Come, I will help you. Are your legs paining? Come, I will massage them."

Kashi smiled at the memory. Yes. She had run along the railway train. They used to be slower in those days, and one could run along with the trains. Not nowadays. The other girls had also tried, but she had run faster than any one of them. She said, "Jana, yes... I did not remember. I am not the same person as I was in those days. That was a very long long time ago. You are able to remember after all these 75 years. I am getting more tired nowadays. This is the first day of the palkhi and I am unable to keep up with my group. I have been sitting here for twenty minutes, and my feet are refusing to help me."

Jana sat down on the footpath, below Kashi's seat, and started massaging her feet, one by one. The touch was amazing, and Kashi could feel the resistence in her legs begin to melt away. A lady who was watching the scene with fascination turned to a boy alongside her, and asked him to run to a shop and purchase a small bottle of coconut oil and bring it to the 'small girl who is more sensible' than her overgrown son. The boy fetched the bottle of coconut oil and handed it over to Jana.

Thanking him, Jana applied the coconut oil on Kashi's battered feet and soles and massaged them tenderly. Kashi kept looking at Jana's face with love, and gathered up the long lost memories of those years gone by. How happy they had all been. Jana, Kashi herself, Goda, Krishna, Saru and Bagha. Jana had had an elder brother, Ram dada, as they used to call him. She asked the small girl, "O Jana, what happened to your elder brother, Ramdada? Where is he now?"

Jana, massaging Kashi's legs, replied, "O! My dada? He got married, and his daughter got married in Pune. This lady here, is Ramdada's daughter. It is her son who went to get the bottle of oil. I come here, regularly, and we stand here, over these past twenty years, to watch you walk in the palkhi. We are all very proud of you. Ramdada has passed on to Vaikhunta, more than ten years ago, but he used to be the proudest. He thought of you as a sister, closer to him, than me."

"He used to point out to you, and say - there, there goes Kashi, strong as ever, always better than the railway train." Jana continued, "And, he would then say to me, every year, without fail, you will never be as strong as her, Jana. Your sickness will never allow you to walk. Too bad that we did not know about polio in our village."

The lady standing nearby said, "O Kashibai, we are very proud of you. It is only on the first day of the palkhi that my Jana-atya comes to us. She stands here, watching you, and is very proud that you are able to walk. Do not worry about missing your group. My son will give you a lift in his bike, and Jana will come with you, and they will drop you at your exact dindi group."

The young boy came up very soon with his bike, and Jana also declared, "There, O Kashi, your legs are as good as new. I cannot walk as you can, because of my polio, but I can come with you on the bike, and we will take you to your group. Keep this bottle of coconut oil with you, for it may be useful later."

Extremely happy, Kashi hugged Ramdada's daughter, and went up to the bike. Jana was already sitting behind the young boy, and Kashi sat behind her. He drove slowly through the walking crowd. Nobody objected, for they could see that he was helping an old woman pilgrim, and many people blessed him for his good heart. In a few minutes, they were past the main rath of Dnyanba, and they went ahead of the all-women dindi group. The boy stopped his bike, and Kashi got down and stood on the roadside. She watched her group come closer, and she stepped out of the standing crowd to get inside her dindi.

Kashi turned around to thank the boy and Jana. Her dindi group was moving ahead rapidly. She could not see the boy or Jana or the motorbike. They would have had to move ahead in the same direction, because the police would not have allowed them to turn back. She could not locate them. Her young friend in the group was surprised to see her back in the group, and walking in a spirited manner. But, she did not ask any question. This was Dnyanba's wari, and they were all going to see Panduranga Vittala!!! Nobody questioned anything...





Glossary 
Ashaadhi = the Hindu Calendar month during June-July
atya = Aunt, usually, father's sister.
dada = elder brother
Dindis = the group-units of pilgrims participating in the wari.
Dnyanba = Sant Shri Dnyaneshwar of Alandi
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
rath = chariot, usually pulled by oxen during the palkhi from Dehu-Alandi-Pune to Pandharpur
vaikhunta = passed away. Gone ahead to the great heavens above.
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