Pandharichi Wari : Part 5

 

Leaving Pune for Saswad

June 14th

I woke up at 2:00 am, even before the alarm would go off. Took bath. The nauwari had dried by then. I ironed it and then draped it . Manisha arrived with her driver by 3:30 am. I locked the home and went to the car with my back pack and hat. There were a few snacks, water bottle, wallet, sunglasses , hand towel and some medications in the backpack.

We set out towards the route of the palkhi. I wouldn’t be able to give the exact location of where we were headed but at one point the police had blocked off the road and were allowing only trucks, tempos and tractors associated with dindis to go beyond this point. All other private vehicles were forced to turn back. 

We made a U turn and parked the car on the other side of the road. I got all my stuff out and was ready to take leave when the driver intervened. Before I realized what he was doing he bent down to touch my feet and do namaskar. This is the warkari tradition. Every warkari is revered as Mauli( saint, or man of God). Manisha asked me to stop for a moment to take my picture before we crossed and went to the middle divider of the road. The traffic on that side had stopped or slowed down as the police were doing the checks. Manisha approached a tractor that was hauling a water tanker. She told the driver that I am a warkari and asked if he could drop me off a few miles ahead where I could walk with the warkaris. He obliged and as per his instructions I climbed on to the seat above the tyre to his right side. There was a kid on the other side and a man on the tanker behind. I bid goodbye to Manisha and her driver as the tractor began to move with the traffic ahead. 

A few meters into our ride the man on the tanker called out to the driver to stop. He got down and ran to fetch something. My water bottle had fallen out of my backpack! I tucked it in securely and we were back in motion. The ride lasted about 6-7 kms before the driver parked between other trucks and dropped me off the highway. 

There were groups of warkaris walking on the opposite side of the road. I merged into that stream and proceeded towards Divay / Dive ( दिवे) Ghat. It was still dark. A beautiful crescent moon hung low on the eastern sky with a bright Jupiter in close proximity to it. There were sounds of zanja ( brass discs in hands) clapping as the warkaris chanted Dnyaanba Mauli Tukaram. Some tea stalls were open. There were some families already up distributing breakfast packets for the warkaris in the dark.

I wanted to make it up the slopes of the ghat before the sun was up and heat became intense. It was truly a very beautiful and divine atmosphere. I kept moving at my own pace. Sometimes I overtook some groups, other times I was overtaken. Some warkaris were resting on the side of the road. Many of them probably had spent the night there. As I climbed to higher elevations twilight was beginning to break in. The sky turned crimson in parts . 

As it started to get brighter there were trucks and tempos coming up the ghat to park on the side of the road and distribute breakfast and water to the warkaris. A little before the summit there was a huge statue of Vithoba that stood on a hillock to my left, overlooking the ghat road. Some people were taking a detour to climb up to the statue. 

I kept walking. My left heel had started to bother again. On the summit of the ghat suddenly there was much more activity. There were road side vendors selling ground nuts, tea and other snacks as well as those selling caps, irlas, cloth bags, wallets and other goods. 

My eyes lit up as I spotted a medical booth. A big team of doctors, nurses, nursing aids and volunteers eagerly waited to serve the warkaris here. Many village elders and women stopped to pick pain medication, ointments and antibiotics. I showed my foot to one of the doctors there. He handed me four days worth of antibiotic ( Cipro) to treat potential infection and directed me to the other end of their booth for dressing. 

The team doing dressings was efficient. One lady in particular was most skilled and took charge of my dressing. She applied a paste of antiseptic over my blistered heel and covered it with gauze and bandages. Several women in the booth struck up a conversation with me asking me where I am from, what I do. I had to give away the fact that I am a doctor too and come from USA for wari. They seemed to be excited even more with this information and the fact that I was in a nauwari! Quite suddenly a crazy rush ensued for each of them to take a picture on their phone with me. Between 8-10 of them, easily a couple of dozen pictures were taken. Couple of doctors too began to chat. One of them happened to be an alumni of GSMC where I went to medical college. Another doctor was impressed with my Marathi. After all these years abroad, he acknowledged, my Marathi was not westernized. It still sounded like that of a local.

I was about to take leave of these rather friendly bunch who gave me the vibe of celebrity. A thought crossed my mind. My saree was beginning to pull up both the legs. May be these women can fix it for me. I asked and sure enough, they sprang into action. Someone pulled out safety pins and secured the wraps around my legs. Now everything was prim and proper. They gave me a send off like I was one of their team. 

Saswad was still good 15 kms away. It was beginning to get hot. I sat briefly on a chair near a tea stall to drink water. As I carried on several groups of warkaris or Dindis were passing by me. One group of women caught up with me and invited me to walk with them. Their leader was a woman probably in her late 60s or early 70s. She was focused on singing traditional warkari bhajans and the others repeated after her. I too started repeating the lines. Mala Pandhari pandhari la javu dyaa, Vithu rayacha sohala pahu dyaa! After a few kms walking and singing like this the group decided to take a break. They urged me to sit as well. They simply stepped from the road and sat on the unpaved side of the road. I sat on the short brick katta marking the edge of the road.

The leader lady asked me “ Bai tumhi wari la ka alya?” Why did you come for the wari. It was a legitimate question. I didn’t look like one of them. I looked like someone who would rather sit in the comforts of air conditioning being served meals by another person than tough it out in the heat on my feet. I told her I came to meet the warkaris. She looked puzzled. You came all the way to see warkaris ? I told her earnestly, Vithoba tar mala ghari suddha bhetato. Warkari ithech bhetu shaktat. I can meet Vithoba in my own home. But I can only meet the warkaris here. She nodded indicating it made sense to her. 

Back home in the USA some friends had asked me the same question. Why do you want to do this wari? My answer was clear in my mind. I wanted to experience firsthand how these simple rural people endure all hardships for their beloved deity. I wanted to feel their company. 

That’s exactly what I was living that morning. This particular group was from Latur. They had come all the way to Alandi and would walk up to Pandharpur before returning home. They would sleep each night wherever they found shelter, sit for shade under some tree when they needed to rest, avail of donated food and rest of the time sing bhajans and keep walking. There was total abandonment of home and belongings. 

As we sat I asked the leader to sing for me again so I could do a video recording of her song. She obliged. Then the group urged me to sing a bhajan. I sang a few lines of Haachi nema ata na phire maghari, Sant Tukaram’s abhanga. They seemed to appreciate it. After 15 minutes or so together at that resting point they told me to carry on because some other members of their group had decided to take a nap. 

I was again solo in the midst of a crowded road. The sun was intense. My dressing was beginning to loosen up. I was rather in distress with the heat, thirsty and also wanting to relieve a full bladder. I saw a restaurant advertising unlimited misal. I didn’t care to have misal but decided to get some chilled buttermilk from the place. Despite buying an item the guy at the cash counter refused to let me use the restaurant restroom. Oh well. 

I headed again in the direction of Saswad. A couple of kms ahead I saw another restaurant but this one was on the other side of the highway. I crossed the four lane road and went up to the woman standing outside the restaurant named Vrindavan. She was a warkari too. The restaurant was closed she said and she had relieved herself by going out in the fields behind the restaurant. She pointed towards the alley which would take me there. 

I was hesitant but not sure how long I would be able to hold my bladder if I didn’t take that option. As I passed through the alley I saw a sign saying women’s restroom. There were 3-4 young men washing clothes or bathing inside that compound of the restaurant. I asked one of them if I could use the restroom. He refused saying the restaurant is closed. I had no choice but to check out the fields. I walked up to there but didn’t feel comfortable. The place was in full view of people. I started to walk back. As I again passed by the group of restaurant employees, one of them spoke to me. He offered to let me in. Can you come over the barbed wire, he asked. Sure I can. It was a better option than peeing in the open. He held the wire low enough for me to put one leg over and then the other to enter the compound. He then showed me where the bathroom was. 

Once out of the bathroom he told me he would let me out from the front gate so I don’t have to jump over the wire again. I followed him to the front . Before opening the gate he asked me if I want water to drink or anything to eat. I thanked him for the courtesy but told him I had water and snacks with me. He told me I could sit in one of the booths under shade, at a dining table until my dindi caught up. I thought that wasn’t a bad idea. As I sat there I was able to send a message to my dindi group asking for location of the place in Saswad where we were scheduled to spend next two nights. I also texted family and friends as I rested there for some time. 

The young man came to check on me again. He said that there is a cottage on the premises which warkari ladies use for staying overnight and I was welcome to use it, even call my other friends if they prefer to stay here. I politely declined and informed him my dindi has made arrangements elsewhere and they also have all my belongings and bedding. For any reason if you don’t meet them and need a place you can stay here he kept saying. A few minutes later he brought me a bottle of water. I took out cash for it. He wouldn’t accept it. Kyon sharminda kar rahe ho? Why are you embarrassing me? I don’t need money for water. I asked him if he worked for someone or owned the place. He said his employer is a local man from Saswad. This kid and his friends were all from Jharkhand. He had worked here for past 7 years. Softly he acknowledged that he was a Muslim. His Hindu owner keeps the restaurant closed for business when wari arrives in Saswad each year and takes in warkaris to spend the night there. He gave me his number and said that if at all I find no place anywhere I should call him and he would accommodate me in the cottage. I thanked him for the kind hospitality and got back on the road.

I was back on my feet in the scorching heat. Found a vendor selling sun coats. Got one from him. Also a pair of black leggings which I thought may be a good idea to wear under the nauwari so if the leg portions of the saree kept pulling up, the leggings would keep it covered.

Another couple of kms took me to the central chowk( square) of Saswad. There was a prominent statue of Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj here with multiple roads diverging from that point. The Municipality Building stood on one side and looked magnificent. There were warkaris everywhere you turned to see. The vendor numbers had increased considerably. There were stalls selling sugarcane juice, ice creams and snacks.

I had not heard back from my group regarding the night stay location. I saw a shop that was selling dairy products ( milk, yogurt, buttermilk, paneer, rabdi , basundi etc). I asked for a chilled bottle of buttermilk as the earlier bottle I had on the way had proved soothing and I was thirsty again. The guy had run out of half liter bottles. I got the 1 liter bottle. He offered to let me sit on one of the stools outside his store. I tried it for a short time but the sun was right on me. My skin was on fire. 

Across the road I saw a big public garden. I asked the dairy shop owner if it was open to public because I didn’t see people in the park. He assured me it was and pointed to where the entrance was. I decided to go sit down there hoping for some shade and quiet.

The main entrance to the park was locked. I found a side entrance further down. As I climbed up the stairs a watchman came to drive me away. The park is closed he said. I pushed my way. If you don’t allow public to take refuge in a park when they most need it what’s the use of a public park? I argued.

But I could sense his concern. Immediately I assured him that I would not litter in the place even a bit and he became more relaxed with me. I found an unoccupied concrete bench under a gulmohar tree and put down my backpack and seated myself on it. It was around 10:30 am when I got there.

The lanky young man continued his efforts to shoo away warkaris entering the park, sometimes with success, sometimes not. People came in groups of 3 or more and sat on the grass, opened their meals, finished them and rested for a while. More often than not they left the trash ( banana peels, plastic, paper, food crumbs) right there and carried on. I sat there doing really nothing, except watching people, listening to the cuckoos and occasional crows and enjoying the shade. The park was covered with several gulmohar trees with their bright orange blossoms. Right in front of where I sat was a chafa tree( plumeria) with white flowers. Once in a while a flower would drop from the tree. I could get a whiff of its mild soothing fragrance. There were some women employees cleaning up the park. Their young kids played around. One chubby boy climbed up the chafa tree and enjoyed himself perched up there until his siblings found him and forced him to return to play with them. 

Around noontime the watchman pulled out his lunchbox and sat on the grass a few feet from me and ate quietly. I had a couple of bananas and the bottle of buttermilk so helped myself to it. After his lunch the man came over to chat with me. In the course of our exchange I came to know more about him. His name Akshay Gondhali. He was 27, married and had a 2.5 years old son. He lived in a small village named Paangaare पांगारे about 12 km from Saswad. Took him 15 minutes each way. Usually he takes a ride from someone. His family had forbidden him from riding a two wheeler on his own after two bad accidents where he sustained significant fractures to his forearm needing pins and rods to stabilize. He had studied up to 10th grade ( SSC) and had ambitions to join special police forces. 

He asked me where I live, what I do. When I said I live in Karve Nagar and am a doctor by profession he started to open up about his son’s developmental delays. His boss had given him reference of a pediatrician in Karve Nagar. He asked me if I knew this doctor. I did not. I told him if he needed reference for another doctor I could find it for him once I returned to Pune. 

This guy was simple and had a funny way about dealing with things. I was reading something on my phone one moment and he came running to me pointing towards two women who had entered the park. Did you see them, he asked. When I looked up they had their back to me and were leaving the park. Apparently they had just walked in, sat down in clear view of other people in the park and pee’d on the grass and were walking away as if nobody’s business. A little while later, Akshay stopped by me and said can you smell something? Yes, it smelled weird. He showed me two three men sitting under another tree behind me smoking ganja( cannabis). 

Next he showed me two men who had walked to a far end of the park with bottles of liquor and were having a merry time. Earlier Akshay had told me “ here on the wari you will have experiences, both good and bad, that you never had in your life so far.” He reminded me of that statement again. With a gleam of mischief in his eyes he laughed and said “ watch now how I get rid of these people from here”. He called the lady who was the mukadam ( sort of lead caretaker) of the park and told her to turn on the sprinklers in areas where nuisance creating people were sitting. She said her boss had instructed her not to turn on sprinklers for two days because warkaris would use the park. Akshay wouldn’t take any of that. He dialed up the number of the man above her boss and got orders to turn on the sprinklers. He spared the area where I was sitting. Sure enough within moments the ganja gang, alcoholics and party crowds picked up their belongings and ran out of the park. Akshay had this wicked laugh of victory. He summoned the cleaning staff to clean up all the litter that was left behind. 

Watching all the drama I didn’t realize how my time was spent starting 10:30 till 6 pm under that tree. Finally I got a text from my dindi leader telling me the location of the place where we were staying that night and the next. Akshay pointed out to me the road that would take me to the place. I dumped the banana peels and other trash I had with me in the designated trashbins within the park before taking leave of my new friend. 

I had my hat on and the backpack too as I began to follow the directions to Karha Devi Temple. I passed by the dairy shop I had been to earlier and various other shops selling clothing, housewares, footwear, vegetables and groceries, essentially Saswad’s market, until I entered a residential area. There were old wadas as well as new buildings. I saw a sign on the way indicating a lane to the right that led to Sopan Kaka Samadhi. Sopandev was Sant Dnyaaneshwar’s younger brother, fondly referred to as Sopan kaka. His Samadhi is in Saswad. Dnyaaneshwar Mauli’s palkhi arrives in Saswad. The two brothers meet each other (in spirit ) and the following day Sopan kaka’s palkhi departs via a different route to Pandharpur to eventually meet other palkhis there for Ashadhi Ekadashi. 

It had been a long day. I decided to not take the detour to the Samadhi Mandir that time. Instead carried on. I passed by a couple of other temples on my way such as the Bhairavnath Mandir, Sangameshwar Mandir etc. Finally I reached the Karha Devi Mandir where our arrangements for the night and next day were made. Our dindi trucks were parked outside the temple.

It was a very old temple with stone walls. Inside the walls was an open courtyard with stone flooring. In the center was the shrine of Karha Devi, the holy river flowing through Saswad. There was a good tiled roof covered patio outside the shrine in that central part of the premises. The peripheral areas of the courtyard were covered with metal roofs. In the far back on the left side of the shrine was the kitchen. To the right side of the shrine were wash basins, toilets and showers. 2 bathrooms for women and two for men. The women were told to put their bedding under the peripheral shades. The men were given the patio in front of the main shrine. Dinners were served in the open courtyard. Since it was too sunny during the day, lunch was served under the peripheral shades. 

When I reached the temple everyone’s luggage was already unloaded from the trucks and placed in the courtyard. More than half the women from the dindi had already reached the place and put their bedding under the shades. I found a vacant spot right across from the shrine. A group of four women from Latur had taken the spots to my left. Two sisters who had come from Vidarbha came and took the place to my right. Chitra and Shubhada arrived much later and found a place farther away from me. 

Dinner was served seated down on rolled out carpets in the courtyard. I am unable to sit down with legs crossed for much time so I moved to a nearby step just behind the row of seated women. Rule was that at dinner time women would be served first, then men. Order was reversed for lunch. After the meal we had to place our dinner plates in a tub. We washed our own bowls and cups and packed it back into our bags. 

After dinner we relaxed on our beddings, introduced ourselves to the people immediately next to us. Some of the women tied nylon ropes to the wooden pillars under the roofed area. They hung washed clothes to dry on these ropes. We found charging stations closest to our beddings and put our phones to charge. A few mosquitoes prompted me to pull out and apply the odomos that Manisha had so thoughtfully given me. There was a very pleasant cool breeze all night long that created an atmosphere better than air conditioning . I had a restful sleep that night. 

Y