Faith begins where logic fails – something I have always felt about warkaris, whenever I have seen them in Pune, trudging on foot for hundreds of miles. Over five lakh warkaris walk across the state of Maharashatra for 22 days to pay homage to Vitthal, the presiding deity of the holy town of Pandharpur and an incarnation of Lord Vishnu. I always wondered how those devotees leave behind their daily work routines to march for almost a month. I decided to walk with them to find the answer.
The devotees — from across Maharashtra — had gathered at Sant Dyaneshwar’s memorial in Alandi, 25 km off Pune, on Jyeshtha vadya panchami (a date in the Hindu calendar) to ready for their mammoth spiritual journey, which they would undertake with the saint’s palanquin, to Pandharpur. Clad in a kurta-pajama, tiny cymbals strung around the neck, I merged with this sea of humanity. For five hours, I was about to be completely cut off from my work, friends and family. I was reminded of what an American friend of mine had remarked at the crowd that gathers in Pune during Ganeshotsav. If those many people gather on New York streets, the police and the security systems would go haywire, he had said. I wondered what he would have to say for the warkaris. No management, no security and yet no mishap. I had come to know that warkaris (Martahi for travelers) follow a 700-year-old system of giving justice though, solving problems and addressing concerns.
As we began, I chatted with fellow travelers—- a family from Mumbai, a posse of trekkers, a clique of working-class babus and, of course, rural folk who formed the bulk of warkaris. At each stop, the warkaris were greeted with garlands and prasad, the politicians trying to gain electoral mileage out of the epic confluence, but the traveler’s motivation was beyond the hoopla. My notions began to get clear. The cold logic one applies to everything tangible and intangible had already stopped functioning, but the question was still there.
I limped along, hungry, thirsty and buckling over with leg pain. When I had started, I was a happy-go-lucky scribe looking forward to an interlude that would be a mix of adventure and education. Four-and-a-half hours into the journey though, I was just another mortal desperately seeking a bench. But I was an exception. The sea of faces around me walked...
