Oh, it was exhilarating! I wish it could have gone on for ever and ever! I have never had so much fun! I am grateful to God that I do not have any job or any other commitment, otherwise I would never have realised the raw power that resides within me!
My great journey of self-discovery started on the second Monday of the month of Saawan, when I and other members of the West Club decided to carry ‘kanwars’ – or holy water from the river Ganga to our neighbourhood temple. It was not easy getting to Haridwar, because no private vehicles or buses were being allowed to ply on the highway to Haridwar. We took the train and I was happy to note that no one dared to ask for tickets because we were wearing the uniform of invincible superheroes – saffron coloured vests! With such vests, it did not matter whether one wore denims or pyjamas.
In Haridwar, there were tens of thousands of people milling around – some from here and some from there. But that was not impressive. What was indeed impressive was the fact that we were served breakfast free of charge! And lunch too! And free tea wherever we wanted to have some! We got the essential kanwar paraphernalia at Haridwar for which the miserly shopkeeper insisted on payment. The bloody so and so!
After a night spent roaming around the streets and lanes of Haridwar, my friends and I started back. It was pure joy that I experienced, hitchhiking on a truck, or a motorcycle or one of those three-wheeled contraptions. The places and their names are now a blur – but how does it matter? One place looks like any other. At one small wayside stall, the teaseller had the temerity to ask for payment for the few cups of tea and pakoras that my friends and I ate. We were in a good mood so we did not beat him up too badly. At another place, a rude kid threw a stone at us and he got a well deserved thrashing. Even though the road had been clearly marked for use by kanwariyas, their was one stupid guy who tried to ride his scooter in our lane. He almost killed one of our brother kanwariyas and we had no option but to beat him to within an inch of death. On the long journey back, we met just one ignorant policeman who thought that trucks carrying kanwariyas should not be driven on the wrong side of the road. He too was taught a lesson.
The most mind blowing experience was at one of those toll plazas, where an arrogant clerk wanted to charge a truck carrying devout kanwariyas. There seemed to have been some dispute and those in the truck attacked the tollbooth. My group joined the rumpus and soon we had broken the glass panes and computer terminals available there. Good clean fun! In the exuberant mood that we were in, we also invited some girls travelling in a car to join our gang. They refused to be persuaded, even after one of my friends grabbed a girl’s arm to invite her to dance with him. I thought it was quite unsporting of the girls not to join our jolly band. An old man who had nothing to do with the proceedings remonstrated when one of us whistled. These old fogeys just can’t mind their own business, can they? I had to tell him to shut up. After all, what is wrong with a bit of harmless whistling?
Ours was a vibrant procession indeed. For part of the journey, we travelled in a small truck that had a very powerful music system. With that music blasting away, all of us were really amped up. When you have such gloriously loud music, it is easy to be in the zone! We also added a dash of patriotism by displaying the tricolour in all shapes and sizes. It was exceedingly empowering to assert that – justified or not – only we were entitled to fly the national flag and mere mortals could not do so. On pain of being bashed up by us. Incidentally, the flagstaff is a very useful thing to have around in case someone picks a quarrel with you.
I loved the considerate wayside camps set up by various charitable organisations and local political leaders. We could not only rest here but enjoy tea, snacks and meals. I heard that at some of these wayside camps, policemen were assigned to wash and massage the feet of the kanwariyas! Even the District Magistrates visited some of these camps and massaged the feet of weary kanwariyas. Such an experience would have certainly given me a buzz! But I missed this good stuff. The administration should make certain that more policemen are deputed at every wayside camp so that no kanwariya is denied the right to have his feet washed and massaged properly. The only consolation that I had was the rose petals that were showered on us from a helicopter. But this was just once. I think the government should also arrange more helicopters.
It has been truly said that travel broadens one’s mind and one learns so much more. On my journey, I met this simpleton from Bihar who was carrying gangajal in two pitchers slung across his shoulders. I was intrigued by the fact that he was walking barefoot and I got into a discussion with him. He insisted that the true kanwar yatra is from some place called Sultanganj to some place called Baidyanath Dham. In its pristine form, this guy insisted, the carrying of jal or water to the temple is a matter of great devotion and many bhakts travel great distances, singing bhajans and raising cries of ‘Bol Bam’. I found it such a quaint idea – imagine walking miles and miles just to offer water in a temple, and barefoot too! But it is a free country. People are free to do whatever weird thing that takes their fancy. Nonetheless, it seemed such a perverse idea – to fritter away the opportunity of a kanwar yatra on mere piety and prayer!
It is a bit embarrassing for me to admit it, but I enjoyed myself so much that I forgot that I was to return with a potful of gangajal for the neighbourhood temple! So I decided to go to Haridwar again. After all, it would cost me nothing and I could whoop it all the way back once again. In any case, I had nothing else to do. But then someone told me that the period in which the water had to be carried was over. That is so unfair! I had no option but to fill a bottle of water from the nearest tap and offer it at the temple.
Even as the priests in the temple do not know that I got the water from the tap, in my heart of hearts I know I have sinned. To atone for this, I will launch a movement demanding that the government declare it to be kanwar carrying season round the year so that people like me are not forced to cheat and can also remain busy for some days in the year.