On Ruhaniyat and Washroom Queues

We attended Ruhaniyat (the sufi and mystic music fest) recently held in Bangalore and the experience was pleasant enough. It was organised outdoors, with coconut trees providing a backdrop to the stage, a welcome change from a stuffy auditorium. The folk singers from Rajasthan sang Mira bhajans and those from Madhya Pradesh were Kabir panthis. They were common people, with brightly coloured pagris on their heads and their music was so lively and exuberant that even Mira's pain of being separated from Krishna seemed infused with joy.One Kabir song ,'Tu Hi Tu'(only You) went somewhat like this -'You are small in the ant.You are big in the elephant. You are the mahout, who sits on the elephant. You are the thief, running away and You are the cop in hot pursuit'. Listening to the spiritual music of our land, made me realise all over again how spirituality here seems to be all pervasive, woven in the fabric of daily life and a constant joyous celebration. It is not confined to sombre places of worship and their caretakers. I was moved to tears on several occasions, especially by the singing of Parvathy Baul. Her voice had that special something , which cannot be defined. She provided her own music, with her ektara, dugdugi and anklets and the twirling of her long jata (dreadlocks) as she danced was mesmerising. She sang a Bengali translation of an Akka mahadevi poem which went like this - 'O Purush(man) ,seeing my well formed breasts you are attracted, but I am neither man nor woman.The only man for me is Chenna Mallikarjuna'. In her introduction, she explained that men saints usually describe women as 'big maya' and this was a woman saint's perspective.
We can get a taste of her music on her homepage.

http://www.parvathybaul.mimemo.net/

After about two hours, we got a ten minute break and I went in search of the washroom. There, I saw a curious scenario. There was a long queue, before the women's washroom while there was none before the men's. The men were just coming and going. Somehow, this seemed rather unfair. After I had waited for some time, in the seemingly unmoving queue, a lady loudly proclaimed, "After waiting for so long, there is no way I am going back." This, sort of broke the ice, and conversations began to be initiated.The lady before me, turned around and we commented on the mystery of the men's loo having no queue, and what could be the possible explanation. Some ladies ahead of us, discovered that they shared a common place of origin, Delhi and the conversation became really animated. Information give and take began in earnest and invitations to visit were also extended. The program had restarted in the meantime and we could hear Kachra Khan and his group singing in the background.

The women exchanged smiles. We helped each other wash our hands after we discovered that the taps were operated by footpumps (similar to foot operated sewing machines). The waiting time at the women's loo, had brought a totally disparate bunch of women, who, a little while ago, were not even aware of each other's existence, together. For a few moments, before we all went our own way, we shared something warm and human, something close to friendship. And I marvelled once again at the magic of female bonding. Let the men have their queue-less washrooms. Long live the Sisterhood!