We got down at the Parasnath Station in the late afternoon. A small, unceremonious but clean station in the Giridih District of Jharkhand ( Eastern India). It was the beginning of winter with a pleasant weather. Soon we got into a local cab to reach Madhuvan – around 30 kms away, where we were supposed to stay.
We wanted to reach Madhuvan at the earliest as we were told that the road was not safe and it was getting dark soon. The driver also voiced the same concern and sped. On both the sides were thick forest with tribal huts interspersed. Whenever I spotted a tribal walking with an axe on his shoulder, both my heartbeat and the speed of the car went high. The poor man must be returning home, collecting firewoods, but I was suspicious ! With no street lights on, the headlights of our car was cutting the pitch darkness like a knife slits butter. The poverty was shamelessly evident as the darkness all around. At one point, our car swerved to one extreme end of the road. A snake with black and yellow stripes was crawling across the road. Good Omen ! We had spotted Lord Parsvanath’s sinage even before we reached Parasnath hill – the most famous Jain pilgrimage from where 23 Tirthankars had attained liberation !
We checked into our hotel, freshened up and went out to the market for dinner, since after sunset no food was served in the hotel. Next morning we were to climb the 4500 feet high mountain. The total trek was of 27 kms – 9 kms uphill, 9 kms on the hill and the remaining 9 kms downhill. There were carriages for infants and not so able people. Soon we were mobbed by hoards of Doliwalas ( Cart pushers – a chair which is carried by four men on their shoulders). There was a smaller type too- a basket shaped chair carried by two men. They wanted us to book a cart in advance. Then there were people selling walking sticks made of bamboo. These were indeed handy- so we each got one. We also booked a Doli for us.
The next morning, much before the daybreak at around 3.30am the journey started. Though we could start only an hour later. The road leading to the foothill was heavily crowded. We slowly made our way towards the hill. The journey had started. We had to flash our torch lights now and then to find the way. The winding, concrete path was leading the pilgrims between thick bushes and tall trees – who were silently watching our progress from above. The sun rose removing the dark veil and we were thrilled to see the lush greenery around us. People spoke very less, conserving energy.
The movement of Doli was a spectacular sight. The four bearers were absolutely clones. They gripped the bamboo poles on their shoulders in the same manner, their feet moved in a rhythm and their sticks touched the ground in unison. Not a single word did they speak. The only sound heard was when the four sticks touched the ground. After sometime, one of them said in a low voice “Hum” which only the rest of the three could hear. They stopped, changed shoulder and resumed. This was done at regular interval. When they were tired, the Doli was put down and they rested for a while.
