It was on 13th Nov 22, did I visited the historic Pune Railway station. I saw a plaque inside the station that showed that it was first opened in 1862 and later was rebuilt to the current form of the station in 1925, 97 years ago. Though all my life I have lived and grown up in Pune, this was my first visit to the Pune station. Nested in the hustle and bustle of the Pune city’s heart, Pune station operates with a frequency of its own. Everyone is busy with their own activities.
No matter what time you visit the Pune station, you always find the station’s entrance filled with a long queue of customers off-boarding from their vehicles and a few customers arguing with rickshaw drivers. The station welcomes its customers with constant honking noise. Once you find the energy and courage to park the car in the parking lot and cross the lane of cabs and rickshaws zooming fast by you (as if they were exiting the pit lanes of the F1 race); you actually see the grand entrance of the station. You’d find few laborers loitering around the entrance, minding their own business. on the other hand, porters would be poking their noses in your business. With their utmost sincerest casual attitude, they would ask customers if they need a hand with their luggage. If someone agreed, despite their best effort, the porter would simply disappear into the crowd of the station with the luggage of the passenger, like a magician vanishes a pigeon in his performance. I was reminded of the Tom and Jerry cartoon when I saw a passionate passenger trying to find his porter thereby his luggage.
While I was soaking the site of this historic site, I saw my relatives gathering one by one. It reminded me of the reason for my visit to the station and my focus shifted. Until now, I was seeing only the rushing passengers and now, I started to see those who remained behind those passengers. They had gathered just as I was, to say goodbye to their loved one. And it is one of the hardest things to do in life. I was there to say goodbye to my mother, who was going on her pilgrimage, the pilgrimage of Narmada Maiyya.
Narmada River, the lifeline of central India has immeasurable importance in Hindu mythology. Narmada Maiyya or Mother is also referred as Reva. She is the daughter of Shiva, a Hindu god. It is a spiritual journey, away from all the pleasures and comforts of life, living like a sanyasi, having a firm belief in the Narmada Maiyya that she will take care of all that is required to live and complete the journey. A 3500 KM walking Pilgrimage would keep my mother busy for the next few months. More so, this pilgrimage is very demanding. The road of the pilgrimage goes through jungles, rough patches, and farms and you just have to keep walking, having faith in Narmada Maiyya, and wait for the next ashram to arrive to lay the body for the night, on the cold floor. You walk with a bag around your shoulder with your bare minimum baggage.
The thought that she might not be with me for the next few months, had me rattled. But looking at her enthusiasm for meeting Narmada Maiyya, I somehow pushed down my emotions. Mostly filled to the brim, the station platform was sparsely occupied on 13th of the Nov. We were talking to Mother in turns. She was extremely delighted to see her brother, her sister, and us kids around her. Her friends had also come. We all did Aarti of my mother and one more Aunty, Patil Kaku who is accompanying my mother on this epic journey. The mood was uplifted as all of us were chatting, laughing, jovially exchanging remarks with one another and getting familiarized with each other. We were asking questions, ensuring she had taken all that was required, enquiring if she needed anything, and then, the LED screen flashed that the train was arriving on platform 1 on time.
My heart skipped a beat.
I wanted to spend more time with her at the station. I wanted this time to freeze. I wanted us to spend eternity, without her leaving my sight but inevitably, the moment arrived when the train parked right in front of us. It was time to embark on her adventure, her soul-finding mission. She is 60 years old but I saw her eyes sparkle like a 13-year-old girl’s. I joked to her, that I was in a similar situation to a father whose daughter was about to wed and go to another town. Father wants the daughter to be happy but he also hates that she won’t be nearby anymore.
I hugged her, I kissed her cheeks. All of our relatives my cousins, and her friends did the same. We clicked photos and reassured her (more to ourselves than her), we requested to keep in touch via phone or WhatsApp whenever connectivity permitted, and then we arrived at the train’s compartment where she had to sit.
She finally sat on the train, not knowing exactly when I would be able to see her again, I rushed toward the window to drink her image with my eyes. She waved goodbye by coming at the door and … and the train slowly gathered its momentum.
Eventually, it was just a spot on the horizon as it picked up speed. With a heavy heart and almost in dead silence, we walked back towards the main entrance. There I saw, a man who must be in his late 50s, with his bald head, untucked wrinkled shirt, crying his eyes out. He didn’t care the world was watching him. He wanted to let out his emotions, in memory of someone who might have departed on a train just like my mother. I envied him. With my wife, relatives, cousins, brother, Sis in Law, and importantly nephews surrounding me, I breathed deeply.
Now the endless wait has begun for her return. While I wait, I find comfort in the thought that Narmada Maiyya will keep my Maiyya healthy, happy, and safe from all the perils. Ma Reva will send her back the way I sent her from the Pune Station.