Last week I got a call from Vijendra: “Davis, you coming?” This is a typical question – no concept of where or when, but I say yes.
From the many questions I asked, this is what I could find out:
-We were going somewhere on a motorcycle
-We were leaving the following day, but I wasn’t sure when. Within one hour of the phone call, the departure time had changed from 6am, to 10am, to 4pm.
-Many other people were walking where we were going.
-This was for some type of religious event, but that really means nothing as everything here is a religious event.
I’ll give you context first and start backwards. I ended up driving to Diggi, which is a village about 80 kilometers away from Bagru. In general, Diggi pretty comparable to Bagru in terms of aesthetics and size, but it has a very famous Hindu temple dedicated to Lord Kalyan Ji, an incarnation of Lord Vishnu. This is why we were headed there.
The event was called Diggi Padyatra (sometimes called Diggi Yattra) – it is an annual pilgrimage of nearly 1 million people to Diggi every August. 90% of participants walk from Jaipur, or villages near, which totals about 50-60 miles over the course of 3 days. Basically, if you walk to the from Jaipur to Diggi, your prayers are supposed to be answered.
There is one paved road that leads to Diggi. Over the course of 5 days, the road is completely packed with people. 1 million people from Rajasthan made this trek, all of whom came and left on this one road; despite the unfathomable amount of people that ventured to Diggi, I didn’t see a single foreigner. Just one of many examples of how big of an outsider I am here in India.
Many people travel to Diggi by village. For example, two days before I left for Diggi on motorcycle, a group of 250 people from Bagru departed on foot. Vijendra’s younger brother, Raju, was one of those people – he walked the entire thing without shoes. Every village walks together behind a massive truck; this serves as their “sag wagon,” and carries food and water for everyone. If someone gets sick, injured, or fatigued, they can ride on the truck as well.
But that’s not it – on every truck, there is a DJ who blasts Bollywood dance music for all the walkers following behind. So people aren’t just walking behind their trucks, they are dancing, partying, and singing the entire way to Diggi. Nobody really carries anything with them – no bags or toothbrush, and nobody wears sneakers or shoes. All are equipped with $1 plastic sandals or simply make the journey barefoot.
Since the voyage takes multiple days, the villagers make pit-stops along the way to eat massive meals, refuel, and rest. Once everyone is done eating, they begin their “cultural programs” which entail exotic dance parties with ear-blasting music and excessive light shows. These “cultural programs” (dance parties) can be seen along every mile on the road to Diggi.
These dance parties are simply insane; they actually put many of the drug and alcohol-enduced co-ed parties I’ve seen in America to shame. And, to make it more baffling: everyone is 100% sober. Young, old, men, women – everyone dances together. Once the dance party is over, they pack up and continue walking (and dancing).
Upon reaching Diggi, they have a brief visit to the temple (it is very crowded), and take a bus back to their village. These busses can hold 100+ people, utilizing the roof for additional seating.
Now that I’ve explained the event, I’ll give you a play-by-play on what went down. Overall, my experience was incredible on multiple levels. Yet the most challenging part of the entire journey was not fully understanding the adventure I was actually taking part in. (see above post on adjustment vs. challenge).
Pre-Departure:
We left at about 4pm from Bagru on motorcycles. There was a crew of about 16 of us – almost all were printers for Bagru Textiles, so there were some familiar faces. The two hours leading up to our departure was stressful; as mentioned, I didn’t know where we were going, or for how long. Everyone looked at me like I had 6 heads when I walked to the “meeting point” with my backpack; nobody had brought more than an extra pair of shorts or single bedsheet.
Getting there:
The drive to Diggi was picturesque – beautiful, rural India, gleaming from the sun setting on the horizon.
At dusk, around 7pm, we reached a busy town and pulled up to a school. I was told we would “rest here for the night” and continue our journey in the morning. I mentally prepared to make this random Indian school my home for the next 12 hours.
Then, I started recognizing many faces at the school and realized everyone around me was from Bagru! We had actually met up with all the 250 walkers from Bagru – they were eating dinner here, resting, and having a cultural program/dance party. They were continuing on foot at 3am.
After eating dinner, I was told to get back on the motorcylce. There was a quick change of plans – we wouldn’t be sleeping at the school, but continuing onto Diggi throughout the night. I just nodded my head and got back on the bike.
An aside: we actually held up for an hour because someone stole my sandals. Turns out a young boy wore them into town to buy a snack – a prime example of the interchangeable property that exists India.
An hour later the road started getting very busy. There were walkers everywhere, music coming from all angles, and intense dancing in every direction. There were also people sleeping everywhere: as we zoomed on the pavement by motorcycle, there were people laying on the pavement on both sides of me, passed out for the night. I was getting tired too!
Walking to Diggi is seen as a holy event, a “mitzvah” or sorts, and therefore all participants are given free food throughout. Our crew of bikers took full advantage of this, stopping nearly every five mintues for free poori, subji, tea, or sweets. Every time we stopped to eat, we got to watch one of the dance parties. Check it out:
Diggi:
At about 12-midnight, with my eyes closed and forehead resting on Vijendra’s back, our motorcycle slowed. We had arrived to Diggi.
There was a strict rule that no cars or motorcycles were allowed in “central” Diggi (where the temple was), so we would have to park and walk 4 miles. However, I didn’t have to walk, because I am white. This was my first real experience of being treated differently in India because of my skin color.
The policeman allowed Vijendra and I to bike the 4 miles, while the rest of our crew had to walk. It really pissed me off, but at the same time I was so tired; I didn’t say anything and accepted the ride.
The nightcap:
Vijendra and I arrived at a small temple, (not the main temple in Diggi) which Vijendra said was his “caste temple.” There were names of his relatives written on the walls.
This was our campsite for the night; when we got there, hundreds were already tightly packed in, sleeping on the floor. Not another word was said. I took out a small bed-sheet from my bag and used my arm as a pillow.
Two hours later, at around 3am, the rest of our crew from Bagru arrived to the temple. Suddenly I was spooning with two men from Bagru, neither of whom I knew very well, or spoke any English . With No fan or A/C, our sweaty feet and arms stuck to each other for the next two hours as we flopped around.
At 5am I woke up from people stirring about the temple. Everyone started telling me to “take fresh.”
“Take fresh, Davis. Take fresh.” I couldn’t figure out what it meant – I thought it was a term for prayer. Then I realized everyone was walking out of the temple with small jars of water.
I learned three things here: “Take fresh” means to poop. Everyone was leaving the temple going to crap in the street. Second is that Indians do not use toilet paper. Instead, they use water and their left hand to wipe. This is why (third thing I learned) Indians only eat with their right hand. Yes, you read all of that correctly.
Morning:
After “taking fresh” we left our shoes at the “caste temple” and walked barefoot through the town of Diggi where we got in line to enter the famous Lord Kalyan Ji temple. There were thousands of people in line. The 16 of us from Bagru joined hands in a line and pushed through the sea of people.
It was 20 minutes of elbow-throwing before we were funneled into the temple. We saw the shrine for about 5 seconds before we were pushed forward and out of the temple. And that was it!
We retreived our shoes and prepared to go home. I felt terrible taking another ride on Vijendra’s motorcycle as the white man, so I offered my seat to RamBabu, one of the best dabu printers from Bagru. He seemed pleased and thankful.
I walked 4 miles back with the rest of our crew and we finally left home for Bagru.
Ride home:
What a journey! It took us about 3.5 hours to ride back to Bagru in the blazing hot sun, stopping many times along the way. Everyone was worn down and dirty from the trip, so we stopped for a shower!
Other pictures:
