By Asmita Javdekar in Experiences
Updated 18:32 IST Apr 12, 2019

Views » 739 | 2 min read

Whenever I pass a place of worship, reflexively, my right hand swerves to touch the bridge of my nose, followed by a gentle tap, somewhere on the circumference of my heart, concluding with a light kiss on the periphery of the index finger.

2014 was the first time when Chinu, Dinesh and I, walked a part of the Pandharpur Wari( An annual pilgrimage on foot)
To witness this ocean of devotion was a surreal experience.
Amidst the tinkling cymbals, clanging Dhols, “mauli mauli” chants, we saw a paraplegic man riding on a makeshift wooden cart. He was using his hands to push himself ahead through the procession.

Chinu rushed to him and volunteered to pull his cart. Curiously, she asked him how far he was seeking to go. He said, “All the way.” A whopping 21 day journey, covering over 225km on foot, in his case by hands.
How can it be even humanly possible?
With a bright smile on his face, he said
“I have been going for years now. Mauli (God) takes care of my journey.”

Chinu helped him cover a considerable distance, Dinesh and I took turns too.
When it was our time to bid him farewell, another unknown person, took charge from Chinu and kept moving ahead.

I watched him dissolving into the horizon, floating on this wave of love. 
Reflexively , my right hand reached for the bridge of my nose, then my heart, concluding with a light kiss on the periphery of my index finger. 

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