Pandurang (name changed) is not a ๐‘”๐‘ข๐‘Ÿ๐‘ข. He doesnโ€™t stand on a stage, preaching to thousands. He isnโ€™t a YouTuber making millions from the wisdom of the day.

Heโ€™s a 73-year-old daily wage laborer from a small village near Hinganghat. A man who never went beyond primary school. And today, he is a caregiver.

His wife, weighing just 24 kg, lies in bed. Her frail body seems to melt into the sheets. Esophageal cancer has drained her of every ounce of physical strength. But not her mental, emotional, or spiritual strength.

She moves little. He is there beside her, feeding her, turning her, easing her pain. His hands gently massage her feet, offering juice, waiting as she sips slowly. Night after night, he sits awake, vigilant, ready to help.

This morning, during rounds in the palliative care ward, Pandurang caught us off guard. His wife, too frail to move, lay still. Her emaciated frame a stark reflection of her battle with cancer.

As we began explaining her prognosis, choosing our words carefully, he interrupted.

โ€œThis isnโ€™t in your hands,โ€ he said, his voice firm. โ€œOr mine. He decides when we come and when we go.โ€

The words hung in the room, heavy yet serene.

My resident noticed the chain around his neckโ€”a ๐‘‡๐‘ข๐‘™๐‘ ๐‘– ๐‘š๐‘Ž๐‘™๐‘Ž, or ๐พ๐‘Ž๐‘›๐‘กโ„Ž๐‘–. Small, round beads, dark brown with hints of green, strung on a simple thread. A symbol of faith, worn by ๐‘Š๐‘Ž๐‘Ÿ๐‘˜๐‘Ž๐‘Ÿ๐‘–๐‘  on their pilgrimages.

โ€œHeโ€™s a ๐‘Š๐‘Ž๐‘Ÿ๐‘˜๐‘Ž๐‘Ÿ๐‘–,โ€ she whispered.

Warkaris are pilgrims. Every ๐ด๐‘ โ„Ž๐‘Ž๐‘‘โ„Ž๐‘– ๐ธ๐‘˜๐‘Ž๐‘‘๐‘Ž๐‘ โ„Ž๐‘–. Every ๐พ๐‘Ž๐‘Ÿ๐‘ก๐‘–๐‘˜๐‘– ๐ธ๐‘˜๐‘Ž๐‘‘๐‘Ž๐‘ โ„Ž๐‘–. They walk to Pandharpur for ๐‘‘๐‘Ž๐‘Ÿ๐‘ โ„Ž๐‘Ž๐‘› of ๐‘‰๐‘–๐‘ก๐‘กโ„Ž๐‘Ž๐‘™ and ๐‘…๐‘ข๐‘˜๐‘š๐‘Ž๐‘–.

โ€œIโ€™ve walked the ๐‘ค๐‘Ž๐‘Ÿ๐‘– 13 times,โ€ Pandurang said. โ€œAnd each time, she walked with me.โ€ He smiled faintly. โ€œShe was always ahead of me. Always stronger.โ€

Then, in a voice steady with devotion, he began quoting saintsโ€”Tukaram, Dnyaneshwar, Tukdoji, Ramdas. Not just words; their essence, woven into his life.

He paused, his voice softening. โ€œEven Tukdoji Maharaj was not spared from cancer. He suffered at the end of his life.โ€ A sigh. โ€œWe are ordinary mortals.โ€

And then, his wife spoke. Her voice faint, but clear. Her face calm, as though untouched by the turmoil surrounding her.

โ€œIโ€™m not afraid of dying.โ€

Her food pipe blocked by cancer, she could no longer swallow. A feeding tube sustained her body, but her spirit seemed untouched.

Where did they find such courage? What made them so fearless?

Perhaps faith. Perhaps devotion.

Pandurang may never have read the ๐บ๐‘–๐‘ก๐‘Ž. But he lives its truths.

Poverty never broke them. Disease couldnโ€™t bend them. Death couldnโ€™t unnerve them.

Today, I bowed before them.