As loud as it gets on the roads
Shobhit Mahajan
THE car windows were vibrating as if they would break. And my eardrums felt as if they would be punctured. The ‘sonic boom’ was not because of an Su-30 taking off from Palam airport but from a Dak Kanwar on the highway. Though I had been stuck in the traffic jam for over an hour, it was now that I was right next to one of these.
For years, the kanwar was carried by the devout from the Ganga to their villages on foot. The pilgrimage, as all pilgrimages, was a physically testing one. The idea presumably being that the religious merit gained is directly proportional to the physical hardship faced by the pilgrim. I recall as a child seeing a lone kanwar yatri hobbling along the road, evoking a mixture of awe, pity and reverence.
Dak Kanwar, for the uninitiated, is a recent invention. The idea behind this is not to punish oneself, but instead make the pilgrimage a celebration. It starts typically with a bunch of youngsters seeking donations from the neighbourhood for bringing the kanwar. Next, a truck is ornately decorated to look like a jhanki, like the one usually taken out on Dasehra day. On the sides of the truck are huge banners displaying photos of the destination and the prominent donors. A sound system with gargantuan speakers is placed at the top and back of the truck to ensure that all and sundry can gain some residual religious merit. Interestingly, recent years have seen a new class of professionals oddly called ‘DJ Sound’. No birthday party, wedding or even a satsang is complete without hiring one.
The truck serves as a resting place for the youngsters who are carrying the kanwar. The idea is that the kanwar is carried in a relay with each person running with it for a short distance before passing it to the next one and then hopping on to the accompanying motorbike to take the ‘baton’ after some time. A couple of people would be on another motorcycle, clearing the way. This they do by blowing a whistle and, if need be, by not so gently using a baseball bat or a hockey stick.
It is estimated that about 30-40 lakh people undertake this pilgrimage every year. As an Internet meme puts it, ‘Our girls (from Haryana) are bringing medals while all that our boys can do is bring kanwars’!
This enthusiastic religiosity causes mayhem on the roads. The month of Sawan is traditionally a cause for celebration since it is when the earth rejuvenates. Not for hapless commuters like me, though. For us, it brings hours of sitting in the traffic with devotional songs (set to tunes of popular film songs) blaring from a Dak Kanwar.
But as with everything, this too has a silver lining. A friend of mine, whose brother is in the police, told me that the cops are normally relieved at this time. The reason is simple — the rate of petty crime comes down, presumably because some of the offenders are busy getting the kanwars!