There are some journeys in life that are not measured in kilometres but in years… and in the depths of the heart. My recent visit to the Vitthal temple at Pandharpur was one such journey. After so many years, I finally stood before him — my Vitthal — the divine with his hands on his waist, the eternal posture that silently speaks, “I have been waiting for you.”
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Walking through the bustling streets of Pandharpur, I could hear the chants of “Vitthal Vitthal Jai Hari Vitthal” floating in my ears. The place was crowded, yet an unusual calmness surrounded my heart. I had been here before, 30 years ago, but this time was different. This time, I carried with me the weight of time, the changes in life, and the longing that had silently grown over the years.
When I finally reached the temple and stepped into the Gabhara, the sight of Lord Vitthal standing there with his hands on his waist struck me deeply. It wasn’t just a deity’s posture anymore — it felt like a gesture of patience, love, and quiet strength. I could almost hear him say, “Yes, you took long… but I was here all along, waiting.”
A strange emotion washed over me. Was it guilt that I had made him wait too long? Or was it the realisation that I had only now made an effort to understand him beyond deity? Perhaps both. Because sometimes, it takes years of living, stumbling, and searching to finally recognise the one who has been there for you all along.The years I had been away, the phases of life that kept me occupied, the excuses I made — none of it seemed to matter. This wait was not one of impatience, but of certainty. As if he knew I would come back, when I was ready.
It made me think — if Vitthal, the Lord of Pandharpur, can wait for his devotees without complaint, without question, then maybe we, too, need to learn the art of waiting for those we love… and for ourselves.
I left the temple with a heart lighter than when I had entered. It wasn’t just a pilgrimage; it was a reunion. A meeting between a devotee and a Lord, who had never once turned away and had always been with us.
As the temple bells echoed behind me, I smiled. Vitthal wasn’t just standing there with hands on his waist — he was holding the years, the love, the faith, and the quiet assurance that whenever and in any phase of life, he will be there. (“तू कधीही ये, मी इथेच आहे… वाट बघत.”)
वाट बघे पंढरीनाथ
किती वर्षांची ही दूर,
किती ऋतू गेले भरपूर,
तरीही उभा तो निश्चल,
हात कमरेवर ठेवून विठ्ठल ॥१॥
मी धडपडत फिरले जगती,
विसरले वाट त्याच्या नगरी,
तरीही तोच प्रेमळ विठोबा,
जो वाट बघे अखंड काळा ॥२॥
आले मी अखेर पंढरी,
घंटानाद गूंजे करी,
हसत म्हणे माझा विठू,
“ये ग, किती थांबवलंस परी!” ॥३॥
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