Pandurang (name changed) is not a ๐๐ข๐๐ข. He doesnโt stand on a stage, preaching to thousands. He isnโt a YouTuber making millions from the wisdom of the day.
Heโs 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.
โThis isnโt in your hands,โ he said, his voice firm. โOr 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 neckโa ๐๐ข๐๐ ๐ ๐๐๐๐, or ๐พ๐๐๐กโ๐. Small, round beads, dark brown with hints of green, strung on a simple thread. A symbol of faith, worn by ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ on their pilgrimages.
โHeโs a ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐,โ she whispered.
Warkaris are pilgrims. Every ๐ด๐ โ๐๐โ๐ ๐ธ๐๐๐๐๐ โ๐. Every ๐พ๐๐๐ก๐๐๐ ๐ธ๐๐๐๐๐ โ๐. They walk to Pandharpur for ๐๐๐๐ โ๐๐ of ๐๐๐ก๐กโ๐๐ and ๐ ๐ข๐๐๐๐.
โIโve walked the ๐ค๐๐๐ 13 times,โ Pandurang said. โAnd each time, she walked with me.โ He smiled faintly. โShe was always ahead of me. Always stronger.โ
Then, in a voice steady with devotion, he began quoting saintsโTukaram, Dnyaneshwar, Tukdoji, Ramdas. Not just words; their essence, woven into his life.
He paused, his voice softening. โEven Tukdoji Maharaj was not spared from cancer. He suffered at the end of his life.โ A sigh. โWe 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.
โIโm 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 ๐บ๐๐ก๐. But he lives its truths.
Poverty never broke them. Disease couldnโt bend them. Death couldnโt unnerve them.
Today, I bowed before them.
Very heart touching and yet extremely inspiring.