BE 6: Sant-Kavis of Bhakti – The Eternal Voices of Vitthal’s Bhakts
The Pandharpur Wari flows like a river of bhakti, its soul shaped by the Varkari sampradaya’s teachings—chant Vitthal’s name, serve with love, and see him in every heart. This path comes alive in the songs and lives of sant-kavis, saint-poets whose bhakti for Bhagwan Vitthal and Devi Rukmini lights up Pandharpur’s skies. Picture a dusty path during the Wari: bhakts walk under monsoon clouds, their voices singing abhangas, the air sweet with the scent of tulsi and wet earth. The jingle of kartalas blends with the soft beat of mridangas, and saffron flags flutter like flames of love. These songs, born from the hearts of sant-kavis like Dnyaneshwar, Tukaram, Namdev, and Janabai, are the Wari’s heartbeat, guiding bhakts to Vitthal’s lotus feet. Let us meet these eternal voices, whose lives weave a tapestry of bhakti that still calls us to Pandharpur.
Sant Dnyaneshwar, a young sage born in the 13th century, was a star of bhakti. At just 16, he wrote the Dnyaneshwari, a Marathi song of the Bhagavad Gita, making its wisdom simple for farmers and weavers. He walked the Wari, carrying Vitthal’s love in his heart, his eyes bright as the Chandrabhaga’s waters. Imagine him in Alandi, his palkhi adorned with marigolds, bhakts chanting his abhangas as they walk through green fields. The air smells of rain and prasad—sweet pedhas shared under banyan trees. His words, like “Vitthal is my mother,” made bhakts feel close to their deity, their voices rising in kirtans, the scent of agarbatti swirling around. His samadhi in Alandi still hums with bhakti, calling bhakts to start the Wari each year.
Sant Namdev, a tailor with a childlike heart, saw Vitthal as his friend. In the 13th century, he sang abhangas so pure that Vitthal himself came to eat his prasad. Picture Namdev in his simple hut, the aroma of fresh rotis filling the air, his fingers stitching cloth as he hums “Vitthal Vitthal.” When he offered food to Vitthal’s idol, the deity ate it, his dark hands reaching from the sanctum. Bhakts honor this love at the Namdev Payari, a step at Pandharpur’s temple. Touching this stone, worn smooth by countless hands, a bhakt feels Namdev’s bhakti, her heart whispering, “Vitthal, you are mine.” The river nearby sparkles, its ripples carrying Namdev’s songs to every heart.
Sant Tukaram, a 17th-century grocer, poured his soul into abhangas that still echo in the Wari. He called Pandharpur his home, singing, “Vitthal is my mother, my father.” In Dehu, his palkhi sets out each year, draped in jasmine garlands, its silver bells tinkling like soft prayers. Imagine bhakts walking behind it, their feet touching the cool, muddy earth, their voices singing Tukaram’s hymns under starlit skies. The scent of roasted corn and steaming dal shared in dindis fills the air, their laughter a hymn to Vitthal. Tukaram’s abhangas, simple yet deep, make bhakts sway, their hearts light as they dream of Vitthal’s smile.
A Marathi abhanga by Sant Tukaram sings of this love:
Marathi Abhanga (Devanagari):
विठ्ठल माझा मायबाप, पंढरी माझे घर।
भक्तीच्या रंगात, हृदय सदा न्हाणे थर॥
Poetic Translation:
Vitthal, my mother-father, Pandharpur my home,
In bhakti’s vibrant colors, my heart forever roams.
Meaning: This abhanga expresses Tukaram’s deep love for Bhagwan Vitthal, whom he sees as both mother and father. It celebrates Pandharpur as the bhakt’s true home, where the heart bathes in the colors of bhakti, finding eternal joy in Vitthal’s presence.
Sant Janabai, a maidservant, found Vitthal in her daily chores. In the 13th century, she ground flour and swept floors, singing abhangas as Vitthal helped her. Picture her hut at dawn, the scent of fresh dough mixing with the cool morning air. She sang, “Vitthal, you turn my grinding stone,” and the deity joined her, his dark hands guiding the wheel. Her abhangas, simple as a lullaby, made bhakts feel Vitthal’s closeness, their voices rising in kirtans by the Chandrabhaga, the river’s ripples dancing to her songs. Janabai’s bhakti shows that Vitthal loves every heart, from a servant to a saint.
Sant Chokhamela, an outcast in the 14th century, was embraced by Vitthal himself. Barred from the temple, he sang outside its walls, his voice soft as the breeze. One day, Vitthal dined with him, sharing his simple meal of bhakri under a neem tree’s shade. Imagine Chokhamela’s joy, his eyes shining, the taste of shared food like prasad. His samadhi at the temple’s entrance, where bhakts touch the stone, hums with his bhakti. A bhakt, perhaps a farmer, bends to touch it, feeling Chokhamela’s love, the air warm with the scent of tulsi.
Sant Kanhopatra, a dancer, found refuge in Vitthal’s arms. In the 15th century, she fled danger to Pandharpur, singing abhangas at the temple’s steps. Picture her, her sari shimmering, her voice trembling as she offers her heart to Vitthal. The deity protected her, his presence a shield of love. Bhakts sing her hymns in the Wari, their voices blending with the jingle of ankle bells, the scent of jasmine garlands in the air. Her bhakti teaches that Vitthal accepts all, no matter their past.
Other sant-kavis, like Sant Eknath, Sant Muktabai, Sant Savata Mali, Sant Gora Kumbhar, and Sant Narhari Sonar, wove their own threads into this tapestry. Eknath’s abhangas, sung by the river, made bhakts dance. Muktabai, Dnyaneshwar’s sister, saw Vitthal in every heart, her songs soft as moonlight. Savata, a farmer, sang while tilling fields, the earth smelling of rain. Gora, a potter, shaped clay with Vitthal’s name, his wheel humming like a bhajan. Narhari, a goldsmith, realized Shiva and Vitthal are one, his abhangas sparkling like his craft. Each saint’s life was a song, their bhakti a light for the Wari.
Imagine a bhakt in Pandharpur’s temple, standing before Bhagwan Vitthal’s idol, its dark form glowing with diyas’ light. The scent of sandalwood fills the air, and Devi Rukmini’s maternal gaze warms her heart. She sings an abhanga, her voice joining others, the sanctum alive with bhakti. The saints’ hymns echo in her soul, guiding her to see Vitthal in the farmer beside her, the child waving a flag, the river flowing nearby. These sant-kavis are Pandharpur’s eternal voices, their songs carried by the Wari’s bhakts, their love a bridge to Vitthal’s lotus feet.
As we close this journey, let the Wari call you. Join its path, physically or in your heart, and feel Vitthal’s love. Picture yourself by the Chandrabhaga, a diya in your hands, its flame dancing in the water. The air hums with “Vitthal Vitthal,” the scent of tulsi all around. Stand before Vitthal’s idol, his smile welcoming, his hands on hips, waiting for you. Devi Rukmini’s eyes, soft as a mother’s, invite you to stay. Let the sant-kavis’ songs guide you, their bhakti a light in your soul. The Pandharpur Wari is a river of love—step into it, and let Bhagwan Vitthal and Devi Rukmini hold your heart forever.
This is the last Article – blog Episode 6 in Pandharpur Series. To read all episodes of this series click on the link below:
https://rimple.in/category/blog-episode-series/pandharpur-series
Also Read Jagannath Series: https://rimple.in/category/blog-episode-series/jagannath-puri-series/
Also Read Kamakhya Series: https://rimple.in/category/blog-episode-series/kamakhya-series/
Also Read Russia-Ukraine War Series: https://rimple.in/category/blog-episode-series/russia-ukraine-war/
Also Read Operation Sindoor Series: https://rimple.in/category/operation-sindoor/
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