Warp and weft of being human

We live in divided times, unable to see past our differences. We tend to glimpse everything through the lens of religion, political ideology, caste or other such dividing factors. In our current moment, given all the violence and noise amplified by the media, things may seem overwhelming, dire and full of threat. But over 500 years ago, in 15th century Varanasi, Kabir was talking about and decrying this timeless human tendency to divide, oppose, polarise and differentiate.

Hindu mue hain Raam kahi, Musalmaan Khudai/ Kahe Kabir so jeevta, dui mein kadai na jati

(Hindus die muttering Raam/Muslims die chanting Khuda/Kabir says that one really lives/Who never enters into duality)

This seems to be an eternal human problem — to divide ourselves into camps, to identify with gross outer identities, and wage war with each other based on those identities. ‘Left-wing’ and ‘right-wing’ can become as much divisive identities as Hindu and Muslim or upper-caste and lower-caste. Kabir’s message to our times and I suspect, to humans of all times, is the invitation to dive into a more subtle realm, a finer, more sophisticated understanding of the self, the other and the outer reality.

Haan kahun to hai nahi, na bhi kahyo nahin jaaye/Haan aur na ke beech mein, mera satguru raha samaaye

(‘Yes’ doesn’t quite catch it/‘No’ is not quite right/Between ‘yes’ and ‘no’/My true guru resides)

This is the essence of Kabir’s ‘jheeni chadariya’, the finely woven cloth, which is his striking metaphor for the human being. There is the warp and the weft — the dualities that we inhabit — but there is also the unifying factor of the divine essence, which he calls ‘Raam naam’. Kabir was a weaver himself, a poor, low-caste working-class man, the power of whose words continues to resonate even today.

When I travel and do concerts of songs of Kabir all over India, or when I do long, immersive workshops teaching Kabir songs and delving into his vision, it becomes obvious very quickly that this is a message that people are thirsting to hear. Amid all the chaos and noise, here is this powerful voice calling us to a deeper place of oneness, self-reflection, awareness and love.

Kabir kuaan ek hai, panihaari hain anek/Bartan sab ke nyaare hain, par paani sab mein ek

(Kabir says, the well is one/Water-bearers many/Each vessel is unique and different/But the water in them is one)

His is a powerful interrogative voice. He confronts not only religious fundamentalists, or power brokers who make a business of politics and religion, but he also questions himself. And he urges us to question ourselves and our deeply-held beliefs. He asks us to look inside to create a better outside. He urges us to taste the drink of love, instead of the poison of arrogance, hatred and violence.

Chaakho chaahe prem ras, raakho chaahe maan/Do khadag aur ek miyaan, dekha suna nahin kaan

(Either taste the drink of love/Or keep your precious pride/Two swords in a single sheath/Is unheard of)

More and more young people are being drawn to this kind of voice, this kind of message. One which transcends narrow beliefs of any kind, and invites us into a vaster space, the ‘field beyond right-doing and wrong-doing’ that Rumi talks about in one famous poem. More and more festivals of Kabir and yatras (travelling musical festivals) have spawned in urban spaces in the last decade and a half. There is a hunger to experience more of this vision. Kabir’s life reflects his iconoclasm, but also his deep capacity for love. He wove his cloth, he sang his songs, he spoke truth to power, and he faced persecution and personal abuse, but through it all, he remained committed to what for him was the highest value of all, one which we desperately need more of in our times: Love.

Haman hain ishq mastaana/Haman ko hoshiyaari kya/Rahein aazaad ya jag se/Haman duniya se yaari kya

(I’m drunk on love!/What need of cleverness?/I’m free in this world/What need of craftiness?)

The author is a writer, translator and singer based in Goa.