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Beyond Devotion |
| By
V Radhika |
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Faith is a
great leveler. Every year, shrugging aside divisions of
religion, caste, class and gender, thousands of people
from all over Maharashtra undertake a 20 day-long
journey on foot to Lord Vithoba’s temple in
Maharashtra’s famed pilgrim town, Pandharpur. These
pilgrims, called ‘warkaris’, accompany a procession of
palanquins (palkhi) of nearly 50 saints from Maharashtra—the
Bhakti movement saints, Dnyaneshwar and Tukaram, being
two of the most prominent. The procession starts from
Dehu, near Pune, in the Hindu calendar month of Jyeshth
(roughly, June) and lasts a total of 22 days. On the
eleventh day of Ashaad (usually some time in July), the
procession reaches its destination in Pandharpur. It is
estimated that the ritual began in the late 1600s.
Although there are not many written records of the
tradition, historians credit Narayan Maharaj, Sant
(saint) Tukaram’s youngest son, with pioneering the
tradition in 1685. After the death of Tukaram—who
visited Pandharpur every year with a group of 1,400
warkaris—his brother Kanhoba and son continued the
annual pilgrimage (wari). They carried the saint’s
‘padukas’ (wooden slippers) on a palkhi to symbolize the
saint’s presence. Folklore goes that Narayan Maharaj
proceeded with Tukaram’s palkhi from Dehu to Alandi,
where he placed Sant Dnyaneshwar’s padukas in the same
palanquin and proceeded to Pandharpur. That marked the
beginning of these palkhis, which now number about 50,
representing various saints, including Eknath, Namdev
and Chokha Mela—all prominent saints in Maharashtra.
Once the Tukaram and Dnyaneshwar palkhis set off, the
other palanquins also begin their journey. An important
feature of these saints’ writings is their non-elitist
character. Written in colloquial Marathi, their works
are accessible to all sections of society. The Bhakti
movement in Maharashtra, of which these saints were a
part, is known for its progressive character. The saints
themselves, in fact, belonged to different castes—the
Brahmin Dnyaneshwar; the grocer Tukaram; the gardener
Sawata; and the potter Gora Kumbhar are examples. The
journey, though, is not just a means to obtain a glimpse
of Lord Vithal at Pandharpur; it carries significance as
a spiritual discipline. Over the centuries, most saints—Dnyaneshwar
and Tukaram included—have followed the tradition of wari.
True to the pilgrimage’s spirit of communal harmony, the
Tukaram palkhi first stops at the mausoleum of a Sufi
mystic, Baba Angadshah, in Dehu. Interestingly, two
Hindu families have been tending the dargah faithfully
for three generations. The procession itself is steeped
in symbolism. The family that plays the traditional drum
to lead the procession at Dehu is Muslim. In the early
1900s, impressed by the devotion of the temple
caretaker, Abdul Mulani, the then manager, Babasaheb
Inamdar, had asked Mulani to play the drum on all
important occasions. The seeds of a tradition had been
sowed. In an interview, Mulani’s grandson Syed Ibrahim
Mulani said that his father’s last words were, “Whatever
you do, son, do not stop playing the drum at the
temple.” Syed Mulani has kept the tradition alive and
has ensured it won’t die with him. His youngest son Riaz
now plays the drum. Inclusion, in fact, is the very
spirit of this pilgrimage. In Pune, for instance, where
the palanquins halt for two days, people from all
communities unite in their hospitality towards the
warkaris. Sherna Minawala, 36, and her Parsi neighbors
have been providing food and snacks to warkaris for over
a decade now. “There is so much devotion and
camaraderie. Everyone cares about each other and, more
importantly, respect each other,” says Minawala, who
works in a private company and takes a day off when the
palkhi arrives in Pune. In one of the city’s Byzantine
lanes in Nana Peth, Saleem Mian, a professional masseur,
sets aside two days every year, when he massages the
weary warkaris’ feet for free. “I am overwhelmed by the
devotion of warkaris and this is my humble offering to
the pilgrimage,” says the sexagenarian. A few lanes
away, Abu Mohammad is ready for the journey. He has been
going to Pandharpur for five years now. What drew him to
the procession was its spirit. “Everyone is welcome and
everyone is equal. There is no distinction of caste,
class or religion. It is a celebration of oneness,” says
this devout Muslim. Smita Abhyankar takes leave from her
travel agency job for a fortnight every year to
participate in the pilgrimage. She says there have
always been Muslim pilgrims in her group of warkaris.
She speaks of Jaitundi, a Muslim woman whose scholarship
of Dnyaneshwar’s works and recitation of his bhajans is
well known among the warkaris. Jaitundi has been a
warkari for the past five years. Although the pilgrims
are organized into neighborhood groups, they freely
welcome non-members into their procession. Women
participate in large numbers; many coming alone. For
over a fortnight, they free themselves from domestic
chores and societal roles. Kalavati Mhaske, a pilgrim,
says, “Our relatives or neighbors take care of our
children. They know we are not going for ‘mauj masti’
(fun).” Incidentally, fables abound of how husbands who
did not let their wives go with the procession were
“taught a lesson by Lord Vithal”. The warkaris’ long and
disciplined procession is a remarkable sight. They hold
aloft saffron flags, sing devotional songs and dance to
the tune of traditional instruments like the ‘lezim’ and
‘taal’. Come rain or shine, 50 palkhis of
saints—accompanied by over three lakh people—assemble at
Vakhari near Pandharpur every year, before proceeding
towards the temple town. The devotion and harmony that
characterizes the pilgrimage has drawn many atheists as
well. Noted Marathi writer P L Deshpande, himself a
non-believer, says, “Touching the tired feet of a
warkari is more devotional than touching the feet of
Lord Vithoba.” This procession of palkhis to Pandharpur
is more than just a pilgrimage; it represents a
tradition that unites diverse people. Women’s Feature
Service Faith is a great leveler. Every year, shrugging
aside divisions of religion, caste, class and gender,
thousands of people from all over Maharashtra undertake
a 20 day-long journey on foot to Lord Vithoba’s temple
in Maharashtra’s famed pilgrim town, Pandharpur. These
pilgrims, called ‘warkaris’, accompany a procession of
palanquins (palkhi) of nearly 50 saints from Maharashtra—the
Bhakti movement saints, Dnyaneshwar and Tukaram, being
two of the most prominent. The procession starts from
Dehu, near Pune, in the Hindu calendar month of Jyeshth
(roughly, June) and lasts a total of 22 days. On the
eleventh day of Ashaad (usually some time in July), the
procession reaches its destination in Pandharpur. It is
estimated that the ritual began in the late 1600s.
Although there are not many written records of the
tradition, historians credit Narayan Maharaj, Sant
(saint) Tukaram’s youngest son, with pioneering the
tradition in 1685. After the death of Tukaram—who
visited Pandharpur every year with a group of 1,400
warkaris—his brother Kanhoba and son continued the
annual pilgrimage (wari). They carried the saint’s
‘padukas’ (wooden slippers) on a palkhi to symbolize the
saint’s presence. Folklore goes that Narayan Maharaj
proceeded with Tukaram’s palkhi from Dehu to Alandi,
where he placed Sant Dnyaneshwar’s padukas in the same
palanquin and proceeded to Pandharpur. That marked the
beginning of these palkhis, which now number about 50,
representing various saints, including Eknath, Namdev
and Chokha Mela—all prominent saints in Maharashtra.
Once the Tukaram and Dnyaneshwar palkhis set off, the
other palanquins also begin their journey. An important
feature of these saints’ writings is their non-elitist
character. Written in colloquial Marathi, their works
are accessible to all sections of society. The Bhakti
movement in Maharashtra, of which these saints were a
part, is known for its progressive character. The saints
themselves, in fact, belonged to different castes—the
Brahmin Dnyaneshwar; the grocer Tukaram; the gardener
Sawata; and the potter Gora Kumbhar are examples. The
journey, though, is not just a means to obtain a glimpse
of Lord Vithal at Pandharpur; it carries significance as
a spiritual discipline. Over the centuries, most saints—Dnyaneshwar
and Tukaram included—have followed the tradition of wari.
True to the pilgrimage’s spirit of communal harmony, the
Tukaram palkhi first stops at the mausoleum of a Sufi
mystic, Baba Angadshah, in Dehu. Interestingly, two
Hindu families have been tending the dargah faithfully
for three generations. The procession itself is steeped
in symbolism. The family that plays the traditional drum
to lead the procession at Dehu is Muslim. In the early
1900s, impressed by the devotion of the temple
caretaker, Abdul Mulani, the then manager, Babasaheb
Inamdar, had asked Mulani to play the drum on all
important occasions. The seeds of a tradition had been
sowed. In an interview, Mulani’s grandson Syed Ibrahim
Mulani said that his father’s last words were, “Whatever
you do, son, do not stop playing the drum at the
temple.” Syed Mulani has kept the tradition alive and
has ensured it won’t die with him. His youngest son Riaz
now plays the drum. Inclusion, in fact, is the very
spirit of this pilgrimage. In Pune, for instance, where
the palanquins halt for two days, people from all
communities unite in their hospitality towards the
warkaris. Sherna Minawala, 36, and her Parsi neighbors
have been providing food and snacks to warkaris for over
a decade now. “There is so much devotion and
camaraderie. Everyone cares about each other and, more
importantly, respect each other,” says Minawala, who
works in a private company and takes a day off when the
palkhi arrives in Pune. In one of the city’s Byzantine
lanes in Nana Peth, Saleem Mian, a professional masseur,
sets aside two days every year, when he massages the
weary warkaris’ feet for free. “I am overwhelmed by the
devotion of warkaris and this is my humble offering to
the pilgrimage,” says the sexagenarian. A few lanes
away, Abu Mohammad is ready for the journey. He has been
going to Pandharpur for five years now. What drew him to
the procession was its spirit. “Everyone is welcome and
everyone is equal. There is no distinction of caste,
class or religion. It is a celebration of oneness,” says
this devout Muslim. Smita Abhyankar takes leave from her
travel agency job for a fortnight every year to
participate in the pilgrimage. She says there have
always been Muslim pilgrims in her group of warkaris.
She speaks of Jaitundi, a Muslim woman whose scholarship
of Dnyaneshwar’s works and recitation of his bhajans is
well known among the warkaris. Jaitundi has been a
warkari for the past five years. Although the pilgrims
are organized into neighborhood groups, they freely
welcome non-members into their procession. Women
participate in large numbers; many coming alone. For
over a fortnight, they free themselves from domestic
chores and societal roles. Kalavati Mhaske, a pilgrim,
says, “Our relatives or neighbors take care of our
children. They know we are not going for ‘mauj masti’
(fun).” Incidentally, fables abound of how husbands who
did not let their wives go with the procession were
“taught a lesson by Lord Vithal”. The warkaris’ long and
disciplined procession is a remarkable sight. They hold
aloft saffron flags, sing devotional songs and dance to
the tune of traditional instruments like the ‘lezim’ and
‘taal’. Come rain or shine, 50 palkhis of
saints—accompanied by over three lakh people—assemble at
Vakhari near Pandharpur every year, before proceeding
towards the temple town. The devotion and harmony that
characterizes the pilgrimage has drawn many atheists as
well. Noted Marathi writer P L Deshpande, himself a
non-believer, says, “Touching the tired feet of a
warkari is more devotional than touching the feet of
Lord Vithoba.” This procession of palkhis to Pandharpur
is more than just a pilgrimage; it represents a
tradition that unites diverse people. Women’s Feature
Service Beyond Devotion |
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