By looking at the cover, you might think that this book is an elucidation on Kabir’s dohas, but it’s a reflection on Kabir’s life and of his contemporaries, and the time that he lived in (15th century) and the time thereafter. The author connects dots across time and space and comes out with some really good observations.
While he sets up the stage for the reader to understand the Bhakti era, he also transports them to 16th-19th centuries to discuss how some rulers in early Mughal period invested back into their kingdom and respected different cultures unlike the British Raj that established a divided society based on the Brahmanical view of varnas and also based on religions. This set us back many centuries in terms of societal transformation.
He talks about the evolution of collective consciousness through ages by highlighting how human society has gone from scientists being executed for going against the then beliefs of the society to us advocating human rights. To think of our society as one collective mind might not have been a novel concept but it’s justified here with great examples.
He also disabuses the readers of the notion that modernisation came from the West by encouraging them to think about the meaning of the term ‘modern’ in terms of openness to new ideas rather than its sartorial and cultural connotations. Philosophy is not just a tool for the ones who have been educated in schools. Many Bhakti poets have spread philosophy out into their worlds by writing about it in the vernacular so that it becomes accessible to even the people who are supposed to keep away from Sanskrit.
In the end, he asks very important questions that bring the latent misogyny to light - latent to men but glaringly visible to women, because while men found peace in so many ancient texts, women rarely found texts which didn’t condemn them as obstacles to Sadhana or portray them as mute followers in a patriarchal world.
He adds an example of Mirabai here to call out that she never filled her verses with rancour towards men and reported even attempts on her life in a stolid manner. Surely the problem must be that men aren’t capable of controlling their sexual desires even when so many of their powers are shown to be based on the years of meditation that requires the same self-control that the former does.
Having discussed both the good and the bad, the author reminds us that Kabir expects “wise people to act like a willow basket that separates the wheat from the chaff” to question if there should be a total acceptance or total rejection of Kabir based on his spiritual contribution to society on one hand and his misogynistic references on the other. ‘Why should evidence of a strain of prejudice taint the entirety of his work?’
Overall, it’s a very well-researched book. It challenged a lot of my notions and spiritual affiliations. The only obstacle to being regularly engaged with it is the language which can get a bit complicated at times - both vocabulary and the sentence structure, especially when you’re reading translated dohas. But I was clearly able to take back a lot from it, if not everything! I’ll leave you with the below excerpt -
“Here is the essential paradox of being human: our desire for immortality alongside the certainty of death. There are other similar ironies: As humans, we must love ourselves but must make space to love others too. We desire freedom but need some bonds. We want desperately to be rooted but to be able, at will, to wander into the unknown. No wonder that as we live our mundane pragmatic lives, we long, too, for the sacred and mysterious.”