Shravan, the rain month in July-August, partly overlaps with ‘Ramayana month’ in Kerala, when the epic is retold in homes and temples. This practice was apparently undertaken as a monsoon cure for when people were forced to stay home and took not only ill but also grew bored and depressed.
In the north, many Hindus avoid meat, eggs, onion and garlic during Shravan. The kavadiyas or kavad-bearers leave North Indian towns and villages to walk to the Ganga to fetch holy water for their respective temples.
A kavad is a bamboo pole with a decorated arch that pilgrims carry on their shoulders to their destination. We can see the kavadi tradition in Tamil Nadu as well, along the six-temple pilgrim circuit sacred to Murugan called the Aaru Padai Veedu, and hear old walking songs called kavadichindu.
It is curious how India is astir during this difficult period, whether through Ramayana readings, personal dietary holdbacks or going the distance with a mission in mind. The devout public along the highways of the north goes all out to acquire merit by feeding the marching kavadiyas. There are disturbing videos and news reports each year of unruly kavadiya youth, but many sincere and well-behaved pilgrims are trudging gamely on.
Meanwhile, as a student of Indian culture, I have a theory about the kavadiya tradition in the north. Since most Indian cultural rites have a practical core, it seems safe to assume that the kavadiya tradition, like the Ramayana readings in Kerala, has its roots in the rains.
We can imagine the fights that must have broken out between the bored young bucks of Indian villages during the stay-home month of Shravan. So, Mission Kavadiya was probably invented and put across society to send them out on a group adventure to fetch water from the Ganga for the Shivlings in their local temples. The public was co-opted to feed them along their route as an act of merit. And off they went en masse, leaving their villages in relative peace until they returned as heroes bearing holy water.
This theory in no way undermines the piety of the mission. What’s not to like about fetching Ganga water for your temple?
Rather, it leaves one marvelling at how Indian society organised itself as a ‘way of life’, unremarked today except when some kavadiyas break the law. They are absolute kings of the road when they enter the national capital. The police halt regular traffic to let their battalions cross, much to the annoyance of the citizenry.
So, the uninvolved public (like I) is forced willy-nilly to participate in Shravan, which cannot be a desirable thing. What I also don’t relate to is the noise pollution from kavadiya camps that blare ‘disco bhajans’.
However, if pilgrimage in itself is an old Indian practice, there are bound to be old stories attached to it. A tale I would like to retell is about Padmapada, one of Adi Sankara’s four chief disciples. The story goes that Padmapada yearned to go on pilgrimage and begged hard for permission.
Acharya, as Adi Sankara is still popularly called, tried at first to dissuade Padmapada by saying that the most sacred place was near one’s guru, where Padmapada was already established.
Notwithstanding his own adventurous travels as a small child, Acharya warned Padmapada of the difficulties likely to befall him: that travel could be stressful without a guarantee of shelter, food and daily needs; that if he fell sick, there would be nobody to care for him in unknown lands and that it was unwise to trust strangers in case they stole his work or belongings.
But since the disciple’s heart was set on journeying, the guru sent him off with his blessings and a quantity of practical advice. After visiting tirthas and kshetras in the north, it is said that Padmapada turned south and visited Kalahasti, Ekambareswar at Kanchipuram, Chidambaram and Ramsetu.
En route to Ramsetu, Padmapada met relatives at Srirangam who asked him to stay for a few days and give them the benefit of spiritual discourse. Among other things, Padmapada spoke of the spiritual merit obtained by householders who supported travellers. That is because pilgrimage requires physical and mental endurance and a householder can turn his own home into a tirtha with his hospitality.
The halt was not without incident. Padmapada left a treatise he had written in his uncle’s care until his return from Ramsetu. But his uncle disliked it because it argued against ritualistic practices and burnt it.Thinking of Padmapada all those years ago, it is hard to look at the neon-lit halts sprouting on our roads this month for the kavadiyas’ comfort and not feel a flash of sympathy after all for the good ‘Shravanites’.