In the quest for hope - 'Seva' with duty

In the quest for hope - 'Seva' with duty

When I was told that I had been posted to Bilaspur as SDM, it was only the impressions I had developed through hearsay that came to my mind. The place was full of aggressive litigation happy people, who were otherwise, I was told quite dry. The weather was bad – too hot for the summers and too cold for the winters. There were massive law and order related problems due to the clashes between management of the newly arrived cement plants and their rowdy truck  unions. However, these were not the issues on which I spent much mind space. The one dominant theme which I was reminded time and again by people around me ( from the boss to my driver) was that in the capacity of the post I has been assigned I was to organise the ShravanAsthmi Fair at Naina Devi Temple. 

The temple has a history of tragedies during the Mela. At least twice in the last thirty years there have been massive stampedes in which hundreds had died. Why Naina Devi is vulnerable to such accidents cannot be understood without an idea of the topography which I will describe very soon. Thus, if there was on major responsibility I was a bit ‘concerned’ about, it was this. Keeping this in mind, it was to get as much of a feel of the place as possible that I visited the temple 7-8 times before the Mela started. Till the Mela started the main question in my mind was ,’why the tragedy occurred and how chances of such events can be minimised’? I was told this year the crowd would a lot lesser since the monsoon had been delayed in Punjab and since 98% of the pilgrims came from there, the sowing season would reduce the traffic flow to Naina Devi. However, as my jeep reached Ghawandalchowk on the day before the Mela, with swamps of people trickling in and walking towards the temple, I realised the futility of relying on the hypothesis I had been given.  I wondered why despite these tragic events, inadequate accommodation, inclement weather people continued to come in such huge numbers. Surely it was faith. But was it purely blind faith? The answer to this question came to me in fits and starts,  over the course of the next ten days.

The Naina Devi temple shrine is located at the top of a hill. It is the site where Goddess Sati’s eyes fell after her body had been severed into 51 pieces by Lord Vishnu. On one side of this hill stretch the fertile plains of Punjab and on the other three sides lie hills of various sizes, rolling into one another. In the winter months a stroke of white in form of the Dhauladhar Range imposes itself on the scenery. Located very close to Anandpur Sahib, the shrine has shared a historical, cultural and emotional bond with the people of Punjab. Guru Gobind had prayed and performed Yagnas for his victory against the Mughals. It is only natural then that Sikhs from all backgrounds venerate the devi so much. However, as I had been warned by one temple engineer on one  of my numerous trips before, “ In this mela we only have elements from low society. The high gentry ( as he called it) come during the MelaAshwin. This time we have to deal with peasants, drug addicts, pick pockets and petty convicts”. I had found this quite amusing but now as I walked around the temple premises inspecting the temple I understood what he meant. Most pilgrims without doubt were rustic folk. It showed in the shiny shalwar-kammez of the women and the multi-coloured polyester shirts of the men. Little children ran along in nothing but vests and half pants. As I remarked my observation aloud the same temple engineer, JE Prem  ( the acronym suggesting his designation as junior engineer) gave an interesting insight. “Sir, its precisely that the rustic and simple nature of these folk that we are able to manage the numbers.  Had they been educated, it would have been difficult to ensure compliance.”

This made sense but I got a first hand taste of it many times during the ten days I would spend there but none more glaring than when our guards literally flung and pushed the pilgrims to the outside almost as soon as they entered the ‘garb grih’ (inner sanctum). Many complained about the rough handling. Some even shouted. On one particular instance, a group of twenty people starting shouting slogans against the police and temple administration. But most of the people, I must admit, simply smiled, shouted ‘Jai Mata Di’ and moved on. So what if they had been denied even five seconds inside the sanctum sanctorum, the fact that they had reached the doorstep of the Devi mata (goddess) was enough.

For this I could not blame the guards either. Every day we expected 55000-60000 pilgrims with a high of 75000 during the vital ‘ashtmi’.Since the shrine was atop a hill, from the point of ascent a one kilometre paved path snaked its way to the top. At various points along this path there were barriers so as to break up the crowd and ensure that at no point was the crowd allowed to swell beyond a certain size. Along this one kilometre there were close to fifteen barriers. On the pivotal night of ‘ashtmi’ the barriers extended onto the main road beyond the point of ascent for the hill – down a further 200-250 meters.  Thus to ensure that at none of these barriers people were crept stranded beyond their patience it was important that the rate at which people exited from the inner sanctum was consistently in the range of 45-60 people per minute. This appears simple enough but it would naïve to think that everyone would be happy with just a glimpse of the goddess’ golden eyes. Some would lie prostrate till they were physically lifted by the guards. Others would insist that they be allowed to close their eyes and say a silent prayer which would be short but seemed never ending that time.  A few would be so shocked by the backslapping and pushing  of our guards and the deluge of people behind them that even before they would realise they were out of the sanctum sanctorum. Then they would insist that they be allowed to literally ‘walk againt the tide’ by entering  from the exit gate. This was discouraged as much as possible. In some cases they pilgrims would simply request that, if possible, the guards should deliver their offerings to the Mata. This was done in all the cases I recall.

The ShravanAshtmi Fair is a huge exercise in coordination across various departments. The entire temple premises have been divided into nine sectors. For each sector there is a magistrate and a police officer deputed. There is a designated Mela Medical officer who sets up 5-6 medical camps for the pilgrims. Despite most of the one kilometer from the base of the hill being covered by  shelters and drinking water points, it is not uncommon to find people getting exhausted or dehydrated in their ascent. At the same time the electricity, IPH and PWD engineers have to be constantly kept in touch with. The mobile connectivity for most networks is erratic in Naina Devi thereby making us most dependent on Walkie Talkie handsets which one carried with oneself everywhere. However, as the days started elapsing I realised the best way to maintain coordination was to simply chat with other officials during my inspections and casual walks around the temple complex. Atleast once a day I would walk all the way down from the temple to the base of the hills and beyond, till the very last barrier – a good 300 metres away from the hills. This would help us in estimating the number of pilgrims who had to get the ‘darshan’ and also give us the necessary yardstick to check whether the pivotal ‘rate of exit’ needed to be increased or not. The question of decreasing the rate did not arise. It was during these rounds that we would see the cross section of people making the pilgrimage. There were a set of people who would cover the entire distance of the ascent by laying themselves prostrate (ShashtangPranam). As much as it spoke volume of their devotion and will power, for us it was an added security fear since in the rare case of a panic stampede these people would be buried under the barrage of feet.

There were several reasons which prompted people to do this. I remember the amused look on the face of the DSP when he was told, in response to his enquiries from young lady pilgrim, that she was doing this to thank the goddess for her father who had got the much coveted Visa to Canada! Another did it because his mother had had an accident but the recovery had been speedy, as he had prayed for. A young couple with a baby said they had come to thank the goddess for blessing them with a child. It was during these interactions that I realised the power of faith in the Mata and what made people brave all odds to reach her doorstep – even if they could just get a passing glimpse of her eyes. The gold eyes of the goddess are installed on the lower right side of the altar. There is another set of eyes in central portion of the altar which many people mistake to be the Mata’s eyes but are actually said to be have been made by the Pandavas. I was told most pilgrims don’t know this and focus their gaze on the set of eyes in the central portion and since the ‘actual’ eyes are at a lower level many don’t get to see them at all! But the Mata sees this, does not get angry at this bonafide ignorance and blesses all who reach her.

I would often go to the village of Toba which is located right at the border with Punjab. Most of the people enter from here, stop for a snack, wash themselves at the water tank which makes for a decent swimming pool for rural folk. This water tank is unique in one respect. Right in the middle of its rectangular frame lies a circular growth of lotus flowers, roughly ten metres in diameter. We had this portion fenced off before the mela since the previous year an intoxicated drug consumer had got himself entangled in the weeds and breathed his last right in the lap of that dense vegetation. Toba was our last safety valve. In case we felt that the numbers were too large for us to handle we were expected to relay a message to Toba that all pilgrim movement from there to the temple should be immediately stopped. Fortuantely we did not have to resort to his ‘ultimate’ measure more than once during the ten days we were there.

It was during one of my trips to TOBA when I was observing some of the pilgrims jumping wildly in the tank and splashing water at each other that I remarked out aloud that there seemed to be a carnival atmosphere here. “It’s a 200-300 Rs Holiday package”, commented JE Prem, in response to my statement. JE Prem was a seasoned temple employee, ‘serving’ the Mata ( as he would say) for the last 23 years.

“Holiday Package?200 Rs?”

“Absolutely Sir. These folk come in tractors from their villages, paying as little as Rs 5 per head. Most often that too is not taken. The tractors drop them off at the Border from where they cross over into Toba. Once they enter Toba, there is not a single Rupee to be spent on food, water or shelter. Not to forget the element of fun and adventure. There is our own swimming pool in Toba, the adventure trail from Toba to the temple and ofcourse our Guffa (Cave) and ropeway offer the ultimate entertainment for these guys……..”

He continued pouring forth his view point. Initially it sounded amusing but on deeper thought one couldn’t disagree. We had issued permits to over a fifty groups who had organised themselves as societies  to offer Lunger (free food) to the pilgrims. Infact, I don’t think I would be going too far if I said that the success of this mela depends to a great extent on these LungerWallahs. By providing free food as many as six times a day, they literally bear all the food requirements of the pilgrims. Except for the odd exception most of these lunger societies are run by the rich Punjabi businessmen.    They offer everything from traditional puri- aloo to vegeterain chowmein, piping hot jalebis to hot badam milk, bottled mineral water to golguppas. Anything vegetarian and you will find it being served in one of the many Lunger committees during the mela. These businessmen may be the most calculating and stingy when they wear their business hats but when during the Mela it seems they had thrown open their coffers. Some lunger committee members would visit us in the Temple office for odd favours like issuing of vehicle passes or a special darshan via a short cut route through the VIP Entrance. They would brag to us about the numbers they had fed. I realised within a couple of days that the competition amongst them had shifted from ‘profits made’ to ‘mouths fed’, almost making it seem as if the Mata would rate their devotion on this statistic. ‘Its the ten days in the year which help them counterbalance their acts in the remaining part of the year’, remarked an employee during one of our late night vigils in the temple complex. ‘The same people who these lalas( business men) are feeding so generously these days wouldn’t get a ‘chavanne’ ( quarter of a rupee) if they visited their shops.’ I must admit the thought had crossed my mind too though I felt this assessment  was a trifle too harsh considering that  ‘chavannis’ had gone out of circulation almost a decade back!!

I got a further taste of the competitive dynamics across these committees when I requested two of them to work together. Water borne diseases are common during the Mela and one had to be careful about the water one drank. During one of my inspections I was offered Rajma-Chaval at a lunger hall which I accepted. My appetite literally shrank when I lifted the glass of water. It was brackish withdirt particles floating on it. To my fertile imagination, creatures depicting germs in the numerous tooth paste advertisaments on TV seemed to sit on the rim of the glass daring me to take a sip of the potent liquid that had ‘Cholera/dysentry’ stamped all over it. Right next door to this lunger was another committee which was exclusively giving people mineral bottled water. I called the head of both the committees to work together so that people could get a plate of piping hot Rajma- chawal with clean water. They both nodded in agreement. I marched off triumphantly thinking I had done the job I had been sent here to do. So what if we could not provide decent accommodation to the pilgrims since all halls and dormitories were occupied by police personnel. So what if we could not prevent people from losing their shoes and chappals for the want of a well located ‘jootaGhar’. Atleast we could provide clean mineral bottled water with RajmaChaval! 

However, the swagger with which I returned to the same lunger hall a couple of days later disappeared as soon as i heard that the two committee did not even begin to work together. Each I guess, had his own account to maintain with the Mata. Good fences makes good neighbours, is what they seemed to be telling me. Whatever it was, the best excuse for the failure of the proposed joint venture was offered by one pot bellied ‘sevak’ (servant) at the food lunger. “Sir, these pilgrims are poor rustics. Where do they have space for water when such delicious goodies are being served to them. Only fools drink water when milk is available”! He pointed with pride to a new counterthey has set up with a large cauldron behind which a man wearing a dirty white vest repeatedly used two jugs, one in each hand, to lift milk out from the giant vessel and cooledit down by pouring it back from a height. That summed it up. What more could i have said? It seemed to boil down to market share here too. Each committee, it seemed, had its own debt to settle with the goddess. No help could be asked for or given in this rather non-negotiable matter.

The police personnel and magistrates would take rounds of the areas they had been allotted with the main focus being smooth traffic movement. It was a taxing and monotonous job and it was understandable if occasionally they helped each other in giving us the occasional slip. The ones who were under most pressure were those who stood at the ‘nikasi’ (exit) of the garb grih. It was they who had the onerous task of literally pushing people out of the temple. They would often be at the receiving end of the verbal diatribes of the pilgrims. However, most would just say ‘Jai Mata di’, smile and ask the pilgrims to move on. At this crucial location it was important to have women personnel as well. Occasionally when the traffic would ebb, the young policemen would try their luck in initiating conversations with their female counter parts. This became one of the many topics of passing interest in our late night conversations. The ‘pairing’, ‘knotting’ and ‘success rate’ of various Romeos in khaki were discussed. The DSP, Manohar, attributed this ‘rising’ trend to increasing number of these ‘sports quota types’ who were being preferred at the recruitment rallies. In an environment which was quite tense and serious, it was such light hearted moments that released the tension dissipating the feeling that we were on some high tension/ stake operation.

The temple closes its gates temporarily twice a day. Its done at 11 am in the morning for half an hour for an Aarti (Prayer) and in the night at 11:30pm for an hour and a half for cleaning. It was absolutely important for me to be present at 1 AM at the temple complex. I was told it was important to ensure that everybody was present in their positions. Once the line starts moving smoothly after the re-opening of the temple chances of any serious accidents or incidents were few. The chances of such unfortunate occurrences increased manyfold when the police and magistrates displayed any carelessness at their end. Else sheer presence of the men in khaki is enough to insure smooth traffic movement. In this period when the temple was closed the DSP ( Manohar), the seasoned ‘JE’ Prem and few other people would sit in our control room, equipped with a simple television showing us the live feed from the twelve odd cameras we had placed in the temple complex. One night I climbed up the staircase to the roof of the Control room. It was an unusually starry night. The roof was divided into two parts with a parapet like division between them. The DSP and I sat on the parapet like structure with JE Prem taking up a cross-legged position on the roof. With only the DSP and the seasoned JE Prem for company, i couldn’t help asking a question I had suppressed in my selfall this time.“ Prem”, I asked hesitantly, trying to realign the order in which  I had to arrange the words I had so delicately chosen, “were you here in 2008?”

“Yes, Sir. I have been here since 1989.”

“No, I know that. But were you here in the Sharavanasthmi of 2008?” The Mela that year remains one of the two huge black spots  etched permanently in the collective memory people have of this shrine. It was during the Mela that a stampede had caused the death of 160 people.A similar tragedy had happened in 1983 as well.

“Yes Sir, I was. Infact I was the first person to reach the site. I saw the bodies lying absolutely motionless. There were just so many of them. No sector magistrate or police could be seen. I could feel my blood pressure rising. I am sure it hit 180/120 that day.” With the last statement Prem’s own close shave with death was also underlined. He continued, although a bit hesitantly, “ Sir, it was a an eerie day. Naina Mata’s shrine was surrounded by thick black clouds. It was raining heavily and loud thunder could be heard every now and then. But, at the end of it, I blame official negligence and Cricket as the reason.”

I thought I had not heard him correctly and asked him to repeat his last sentence. He repeated the same again. It seemed there was a Sri Lanka India Cricket match showing live on television. Added to the bad weather, it was just the excuse some sector officers needed to extend their chat session in the so called ‘VIP/TV/Control’ room in the Inner temple complex. “They kept chatting and watching the match, Sir. The rate of exit from the main Garb Grih was down to the trickle but no efforts were made to control the numbers coming in from Toba.  With key sector officials debating the composition of India’s Cricket team, the huge numbers started clogging the one kilometre ascent from the Bus stand to the temple. It became so crowded that a couple of us literally rushed up to the VIP room to tell the occupants that the situation was desperate. Most of them didn’t listen. The ones who did simply said that they had conducted much bigger fairs in the past and nothing will happen.’Mata is watching over them’, is how they dismissed our worries.”

“So, what actually triggered the stampede?”, asked the DSP, his first words in over half an hour.

“ The situation had become so delicate that all it took was a monkey leaping from one rock to another. Since the soil was wet a few small rocks rolled down towards the track where a huge number of devotees were clogged. It seems there were some young devotees who set off the panic by shouting ‘Pahad gir gaya’ ( The hill is coming down). They turned around and starting running down. The panic spread. The crowd in the middle got squashed between those running down in panic and people coming up. For security purposes two iron poles were embedded to ebb the flow but when the panic spread, people got stuck in them. Many fell down as well specially  the weaker lot comprising the old, women and children. The ones who fell down had no chance of rising since the panic alarm had set a whole charge of people down the hill side. It all happened very quickly. Maybe a couple of minutes.”

At this moment the prayer bell to signal the opening of the temple starting ringing. We descended down the flight of steps we had taken. Certain events were destined, no doubt. My wanting to know about the incident was not sheer curiosity but a desire to know whatactually happened.  Could the tragedy have been avoided? Not the right question to ask, I realised. Could it happen again? The sheer thought injected a shot of tension through my spine. I was to have exactly the same hair rising tension injecting experience precisely at the same time a day later.

The clouds in the sky and made me insist on the provision of Rain-coats for people on duty. Nothing much happened during the day. However, in the evening a strong wind brought in thick black clouds right over us. There were few drops which fell on the marble floor of the inner temple complex during its closure. As usual the temple bell rang at 1 AM to announce the opening of the temple gates. Barely had the entry gate opened than the rumbling clouds started firing down huge bullet drops of water. 

Something sinister happened at this juncture. As the rain came down heavily, a sudden panic shock went through the crowd. They forced themselves through the gate, like a water breaking through a dam. I watched in horror, as huge numbers started entering the inner temple complex. At the same time, the exit rate dropped suddenly to zero. With the rain coming down thick and fast, the people inside the temple refused to exit. This situation was worsened by the fact that most of our policemen and officials were simple not to be seen. In absence of the guards, and the deluge of people burst forth, some slipping on the wet marble floor and other rushing behind them. 

I watched for half a minute – with the previous night’s conversation raging through my mind. The words “ It happened very quickly. It was all over in a couple of minutes”, raged through my mind. What was I to do? There was nobody standing at the exit gate of the temple to make the people move on. Inside the temple complex there was an enclosure which could be closed off with sliding metal gates. During the day a couple of barbers sat there, tonsuring the heads of devotees, mostly small children whose parents feltthere was no better timing for their tonsure ceremony.I realised that the people rushing in were all going and agglomerating in this enclosure. Some, in the absence of any guidance, started entering the Garb Grih from the exit door.  However it would be a matter of few minutes before the whole enclosure would become jam packed. I spotted some employees – belonging to the police and administration, standing with the crowd. They were not interested in getting wet it seemed. Shamefully, some held umbrellas and a few had rain coats. 

This irked me a lot but I chose not to react. Instead I told JE Prem to immediately close the main gates. It was better for people to get wet rather than risk chances of suffocation or stampede. He resisted but I insisted on getting the doors closed. My first objective was to stop the inflow and get people inside the garb grih to move. Once the main entrance to inner temple complex was closed we could focus on clearing up the mass inside the temple complex – some inside the Garb grih and other in the enclosure. With the rain showing no signs of abating, I went and stood at the exit door of the Garb Grih and started moving the people. “ Jai Mata Di, Jai Mata DI’ we said and started gently moving the people out of the Garb Grih. I was joined in my efforts by JE Prem and one Mela Volunteer from Punjab.

Once the people saw that, the panic lifted and the line of people started moving. We were thoroughly wet despite wearing our “Made in Pathankot” rain-coats.  Within ten minutes, people in the enclosures started coming out to join the main line for the Garb Grih. I knew the situation was now under control. We opened the gates. Within twenty minutes the flow of rain ebbed convincing some of police and civil employees to shun their role as bystanding observers. I got a taste of what probably happened during the stampede. Another manifestation of ‘sab chalta hain’ attitude we are so keen to point out everywhere in India. It had taken barely two minutes for 160 lives to have been lost in 2008. Simply if there had been two people at that infamous point, the probability of occurrence could have drastically reduced. Later when I went to bed at 4 AM, I shuddered to think what could have happened? What if we had not shut the gates and the people had clogged the inner complex? What if people had slipped on the wet floor and got tramp-led by the people running in a frenzied fashion behind them? I just thanked the Goddess for providing me the composure to deal with those five minutes in which the spark of panic had been lit but extinguished just in time.

The next day was the second last of the Mela. I arrived in the morning. It was business as usual. I surfed through the different channels of the TV in the temple office, each showing images from a different camera. Everything was under control. I knew we had passed the test the previous night. Hopefully there would not be anymore hair raising incidents like that of last night.  I did not speak about this event to too many people. It had been witnessed by many. Later, of course it was a case of all’s well that ends well.  Only JE Prem,could read my mind well. “Sir, we averted a major disaster last night. You handled the situation else I can only shudder to think what all could have happened.” I simply shook my head. He knew what had been going through my head. Carelessness, neglect and plain indifference are potential sparks for most such tragedies. Throw in a freak incident like a monkey mistiming his jump to loosen a small rock and you have the darkest nightmare.

I often wondered whether the countless devotees, mostly poor rustic folk, even knew about the tragedy. Most did since this was their annual pilgrimage. All I could say that it made them no difference. The fervour and devotion would only rise. I remember seeing hundreds, if not thousands, of human bodies sleeping under the open sky. Huddled closely together mothers clung to their little babies, little children to their parents and old men and women to their young sons and daughters. It was probably that scene of seeing so many people sleeping under the open sky, side by side, that explained the essence of the pilgrimage. These devotees would travel large distances, brave inclement weather, sleep under the open sky, tolerate all the pushing and pulling which happened in the long queues just for brief sighting or darshan of the Mata. The free lunger, the Toba Tank, the Goofa,etc were good peripheral items for the ‘pilgrim package’ but in the end, Naina Devi Shrine represented a quest for hope for everyone.

It was not a hope to which you were entitled by birth or wealth but rather one you earned through sacrifice and perseverance.