Pandharichi Wari : Part 2

 

Wari Begins:

June 11th

I had an early lunch, cleaned out the refrigerator and trash and sat ready at home by 11:30 am waiting for my ride.

Manisha dropped me in her car to Charholi Chowk in Alandi. Police had barricaded the roads beyond that point. She took the maiden picture marking my wari before I proceeded to walk to Prasad’s home which was about a km from there. The six lane road with high rise buildings on either side was far from the Alandi I remembered from nearly 25 years back. The fateful September in 1999 when I first visited Alandi to immerse the mortal remains of my dearest brother came to mind. Alandi was a tiny town with just a few houses around Dnyaaneshwar Samadhi Mandir at the time.  There wasn’t too much pomp on the banks of the Indrayani. And the somber occasion was starkly different from the commotion of the present one.

 There were already crowds of people walking in the direction of the Samadhi Mandir, dressed in traditional wari attire. Men in white shirts and pants or dhotis and a traditional cap or turban on the head, women in six or nine yard sarees. Chants of Gyanba Mauli Tukaram or some traditional bhajans were heard as I walked beside them. Even as I turned into the small lane of Prasad’s home these warkaris flocked every nook and corner. Prasad’s wife Pallavi greeted me at the door. His daughters Prachi and Poorva were home and instantly made me comfortable. They served me kokum sherbet as we chatted about their school and college. I asked them for directions to go to the dharmashala ( sort of monastery or missionary dormitory) where other members of my dindi were to gather and spend the night. Dnyaaneshwar’s palkhi( procession) that carried his silver padukas ( sandals) in a palanquin was scheduled to leave from the Samadhi Mandir at 4 pm. But only select people from each registered dindi would be allowed to enter the temple to witness the initial ceremony. They had been given special permits for this. Rest of the people, me included, would have to see the procession as it left the premises of the temple and carried onto the streets to its destination at Dnyaaneshwar’s maternal grandparents’ home on the outskirts of Alandi. My dindi members were told to watch the procession from the designated dharmashala. Leaving my backpack at the Bhide home I proceeded to walk. 

The crowds grew bigger as I entered the heart of old town Alandi. And so did police presence! The road that the Bhide women had suggested to me was barricaded beyond one point. Nothing would deter the policemen and women guarding that area. I gave up and turned towards a road that seemed to allow people to walk. Only to reach the next road block. I pleaded in vain with the police to let me go past to reach my dindi. They were having a hard time pushing back the roaring crowds. It was a daunting task for them to remain respectful of devotees and control the unruly crowds. I admired the way they were walking the fine line. Even though I was getting increasingly frustrated and worried about how I would find my way to my destination. Just then a group of 6-7 people in white coats walked up to the police. Their leader was a lady who told the police that they were a government medical team and one of the men in their group was the civil surgeon. I whispered to the civil surgeon as he passed ahead that I am a physician too, could he tell the police I was with them so I would be let past the barricade. He flatly refused. The last of them to go was the woman leader. I asked her and she graciously let me pass in front of her. Before I realized what was happening I was thrust with them not just beyond the barricade but right into the entrance into the Samadhi Mandir !! There was no other place to enter. I couldn’t believe my luck. Without the precious permit I was standing with the chosen few to witness the beginning rituals of the palkhi. 

The energy within the walls of the temple was multiplied several hundred times above what existed outside on the streets. About 10-15 select members of each dindi were gathered in a very organized manner within the premises. A lead person held the banner that read the number of the dindi. Number 1, 2, 3 , 4,, 5 etc in front of the palkhi and similar order that would walk behind the palkhi. It took me a fair deal of effort to find my dindi which was #4 in front of the palkhi. The dindi members were fully charged for the occasion. They had drummers and Veena players amongst each group. They danced and engaged in traditional games and singing as they awaited the palkhi to emerge from the shrine inside. Photographers and videographers from various media outlets were on their toes recording and relaying the live events. I knew absolutely no one in that crowd yet felt connected to each of them. The common thread that tied us together was the love for the saints and Vithoba! Education, financial situation, gender, language, even level of spiritual understanding did not matter there. As I enthusiastically clicked photos on my phone camera, several pilgrims came forward asking me to click their pictures. For them it was like attending a wedding in the family, a joyous occasion and they wanted to be documented for being part of it. I was more than happy to oblige. They didn’t even care to exchange phone numbers for me to send their pictures to them. Just pure joy in each heart. 

The palkhi departure that was scheduled for 4 pm actually happened after 6 pm. First to arrive was the ceremonial horse. Then rest of the entourage slowly began to step out of the shrine. Ours being a dindi that walks in front of the palkhi we had to start out in designated order leading around the shrine and then exiting the temple into the street through the main entrance.

 I walked a bit with the procession but soon exited from the group because I had a good 3 km walk to the Bhide home. It was getting dark outside and I didn’t want to keep them waiting for me much into the night. They had insisted I have dinner with them. Prasad was home from work. He was happy to see me and fondly recalled the time his father was critically ill. That time my father had accompanied his father in the ambulance to Pune and stayed up all night till the latter was stabilized. Prasad also remembered my father’s cooking and many other things. The very next day was my father’s birthday . Thus it was rather a fitting tribute coming from people who had known him closely for years and witnessed his brand of dedication and service. 

Pallavi had gone out of her way to prepare an elaborate dinner with poli, eggplant bhaaji, drumsticks amti, rice, amras and homemade sabudana chakli. I couldn’t have found a more welcoming household to spend the evening with. It was midnight by the time we retired for the day. Pallavi and me shared a bedroom, the girls were in their room and Prasad slept in the living room. The first official day of the wari had been spent in the best possible way I could have hoped for.