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Bhakta Kabir Das
‘Jab maitha tab gurunahi ab guruhai hamnahi Premgali ati sankari tame dona samahi’ Kabir is like a flower to a tree. The tree is hard and rough. It bends in summer and shivers in winter. It is in the receiving end. It receives nutrients from land, life from water and pranic energy from sun rays. The same way in the hard hearted, selfish society around, rise saints like Kabir. They spread universal love. They lead an ideal life. ‘The buds grieved over their fate as they saw the gardener. They felt just as he plucked the blossoms that day, he would pluck them up too the next day. Death is inevitable. His quest for knowledge was so much that he did not leave any religion untouched. He listened to Hindu Sastras, Muslim Koran, Sufi masters lectures etc. Kabir’s father forced him to take up his weaver’s job. The bhakti in him dominated over the craftsmanship in him. At times from the man made noises, he was lost into the all pervading deep silence created by God. Once as he was walking across a house, he saw a woman grinding jowar. He was moved to tears by the tragic fate of those jowar seeds. They conveyed the impending death of man in similar fashion. He cried deeply like a child. A sadhu who happened to pass that way asked him the reason for his sorrow. He explained his feelings and asked whether there was no escape from death. The sadhu being touched by his vairagya, explained the philosophy of life from the very same example. ‘Look my son, the jowar seeds do convey the temporary nature of man. But look carefully. A few seeds that are stuck to the rod are intact. They cannot be crushed. The same way whoever is stuck to the rod of God though being grinded in the samsara, will not be affected by Death. Kabir was thus lost in his own sweet world. His father, realizing his ecstatic state of mind left him alone. He carried on his weaving work all by himself. But life is not a smooth sail. Kabir’s father passed away and the burden of the family fell on Kabir’s shoulders. He was forced to take up the weaving task, but half the time he was engrossed in his love for God. God came to his rescue then and finished his task. Ultimately, they were wonderfully woven. He took those clothes to the exhibition to sell them there. No body dared to buy those clothes. Of course it is true ! Who are we to decide a rate for the clothes specially woven by God Himself. Kabir was unmindful of the situation. A brahmin came begging for clothes. Kabir gave a cloth generously away to him. Then a muslim phakir asked for clothes. He gave the remaining cloth to the second person. He was not worried about the family or the money he lost by his charity. On the contrary he thought he was then free from the shackles of mundane business and could concentrate on God undisturbedly. He could see God in both a Hindu and a Muslim. It was indeed God who had come to test his bhakti. God’s leela cannot be understood easily. God deprived him of his business and went and complained to his mother of his generosity. The mother came angrily to the exhibition. God in the wassant lost in his meditation and the wounds were reflected on the brahmin beside and he started yelling. When Kabir opened his eyes he saw ‘Sri Rama’ himself. Kabir was thrilled and his mother’s joy knew no bounds. She embraced her son with tears of joy. Her tears of joy were short lived. Her eyes were covered with maya. She was scared that her son would be lost. So to bring him back to mundane world, she performed his marriage with Loyee. Though Kabir was not inclined, he had no other go. Sankaracharya proclaimed , ‘You need not be a Sanyasi to ‘know thyself’. You should be very much in the samsara but should not be attached to it. Kabir was a perfect example for that. His quest for knowledge was unquenchable. You need a guru to guide you in the right path. He, being a muslim, was not accepted by Hindu gurus. He was also not accepted by muslim gurus since his behaviour was against the norms of his religion. Kabir was not confined to religion but it was not understood by great people. With a broken heart he was loitering on the banks of river Ganga. He lost all hopes of meeting a guru. He almost fainted and dozed off to sleep there. The next morning, a guru by name Ramananda Swami, on his way to Ganges happened to step over him. Then he uttered, ‘Ram’ Kabir woke to these utterings and accepted him as his Guru. The Guru too had no objection to receive him as his disciple. He should not have any objection since it was all designed by God. Ramananda Swami was a staunch devotee of God. Goddess Lakshmi decided to test him and created a Rose Garden on his path. He plucked one rose, but the Goddess almost snatched it away from his hands and took it straight to Lord Vishnu. She said, ‘Look, your disciple is a thief’ God smiled at her and said.’ He plucked it only to offer it to me. You brought it all the way to me personally.’ Lakshmi Devi was moved by his devotion and offered to help him. The Lord explained, ‘He is not after riches or material comforts. He wants to spread bhakti around him. He needs a right sishya for that. So I will create a sishya out of the flower you brought here. Speaking thus, he changed it into a baby and that baby was no other than Kabir himself. So, Kabir and Ramanand Swami made a good pair. He felt he had lost his ego. Two incidents speak about his involvement with God. In these too, he has risen above mundane level. Once a few sant purush came to his house. Kabir welcomed them with open arms and asked them to have dinner in their house. He entrusted the work to his wife and was happily involved in conversation with them. The wife was at a loss because there were no provisions at home and was no money to buy them. The husband was in no mood to listen. She had to make her own arrangements. Most of the shops were closed but one shopkeeper volunteered to help provided she sold her character to him. She was torn between her Hindu tradition of her chastity and between her Hindu custom of playing the role of a good hostess to saints. Ultimately her duty dominated over her personal chastity. Loyee agreed on one condition. She could not serve her guests after losing her morals. So she would come back after he fulfilled her duty as a good wife. The seth agreed and she served her guests with delicious dishes. Kabir was happy. As he was about to share his happiness, he was surprised to see his wife in a sad mood. When he enquired she came out with the whole story. Kabir was moved by her sacrifice and accompanied her to the Seth’s house. He felt serving the devotees is like serving God. Nothing can supersede this act. On another occasion, Kabir had to serve Gnanadev and Namadev along with their disciples. By that time he had a son by name Kamaal. Kamaal was greater than Kabir in his bhakti. He was lured to God’s name even as a child Kamaal toured round many holy places to spread the name of God. Spiritually rich people do not aspire for material bliss. So Kabir was once again penniless. Kabir had no other go except to steal from somebody. Kabir took his son to steal from a shop. Kamaal dug a hole to the wall and through that went in Father instructed the son to bring only as much as was required. The son was two steps ahead of his father. He was worried somebody else would rob the sethji of his money, after they left. So he woke up the owner and told him so. Why will an ordinary seth understand the generous heart of a small boy ? As the boy was leaving out of the hole, the owner caught hold of his feet. Kamaal suggested a way out. ‘Father, there is no time to waste. If all the people rush here, our theft will become an open secret and our guests will take it as an insult. So you cut off my head and take it away along with the provisions. The father was touched by his son’s supreme sacrifice and acted accordingly. It is a real great family ! The mother did not bang her husband but was delighted to have such a son. She kept aside the face safely and carried on her work. Kabir das praises love in his poetry because his entire family devoted their lives for love. Gnana dev and Nama dev were pleased at their hospitality. The next evening the guru devs were walking past the market place. They came across the body of Kamaal. The owner of the shop, unable to identify the body, hung it there to a pillar. The villagers too couldn’t identify it. When the gurus came there, to their surprise, the headless body saluted them with folded hands. The hands were moving in tune with the bhajan being sung. Gnana dev and Nama dev were wonderstruck. They asked Kabir to explain. Kabir filled with tears, said’. He is a devotee of Vishnu. He has a wee bit of life in him, only to see you and hear you. Gnana dev at once visualized that the boy was Kabir’s son. He praised the son and sent for his head. He was brought back to life. The boy ran to their feet. This shows there is no difference between God and his disciples. Kabir das spread the greatness of God and lit the light of Bhakti in many souls till his old age. One day amidst the crowd of devotees Kabir das breathed his last, even as he was chanting Rama Nama. There was a tug of war over his funeral rites. The Muslims opined that he must be buried as per their custom and the Hindus argued that he must be burnt as per their tradition. The same old problem again. He was neither a Hindu nor a muslim. Just then a Sadhu arrived there. He heard their problem patiently and suggested a via media plan. He said, ‘You cut the body into two and take your share and do the cremation accordingly.’ They agreed and the Sadhu lifted the cover over the dead body. Lo! There was no dead body there but fresh rose flowers lay in the form of his body. The sadhu gathered all the flowers and distributed them equally. The Hindus burnt the flowers and the Muslims buried them. What a great message is imbibed in his life. He was born out of a flower. He taught the law of death through bud’s angle. He spread the fragrance of spiritual knowledge as long as he was alive. Finally he left fragrant flowers in the place of his dead body. His message is thus Kabir’s teaching is a new style, Kabir advocated the Hindu principles of ‘Karma Siddantam’. Rebirth, liberation of soul and renunciation of life. At the same time he opposed idol worship and caste feelings. He didn’t preach sastras. He spoke from experience. What is the true way of liberation ? Then I imagined to myself I had a darshan of God and had a knowledge of God. I led a life in those lines. Then I had knowledge of the soul. Then I heard the voice of God calling unto me ‘Oh Kabir! where are you ?’ If we read these lines and attack him for the superficial meaning we are no less than his contemporaries. It was not an attack on God, holy rivers, sastras, but it was an attack on the people who misinterpret them or on people who glorify one God. His quest for knowledge and his advaita philosophy can be understood in just this question. |
Sant Kabir
One of his devoted disciple was Bir Singh, who was none other than the Kasi king himself.
The Saint walked in the bazaars of Kashi with Ravi Das, the cobbler and a woman disciple who was once a prostitute, singing devotional songs. He carried in his hands, two bottles filled with coloured water, that resembled alcohol.
Some, both Hindus and Muslims who were against Kabir saw this act, created a commotion in the city. People gossiped about the prostitute, the cobbler and the bottles of alcohol. The news also reached The King.
Sant Kabir entered King Bir Singh’s palace in just this kind of manner.
On seeing Sant Kabir, the King’s faith in the Guru wavered. He did not get up from the throne.
This made the King think,
He got up from his throne and drew Ravi Das aside and asked,
Ravi Das replied, “Oh Maharaj, don’t you know that the Jagannath temple is on fire, and Kabir is putting out the fire with the water in his bottle?”
The Raja noted down the date and the time. He sent a messenger to make the long journey to Jagannath temple to enquire about the fire.
The people near Jagannath temple confirmed about the fire and told,
A Master can act in many ways but for the good of the disciple. "
Only a rare disciple can pass this test.
Kabir: In the bliss of Sahaj
My mind has returned
To its own primal state;
I realized the Lord
When I died while living.
Says Kabir: I am merged
In the bliss of Sahaj;
I no longer know fear,
Nor inspire it in others.
“Having recognized the Lord within, my thoughts rest only in Him. Now wherever I cast my eyes, I see none else but Him…. Since realization came, here, there, everywhere the Lord alone I see.”
Kabir ranks among the world’s greatest poets. He lived in the Indian city of Benares about a hundred years before Shakespeare, his life spanning most, if not all, of the 15th century.
Like most Indian writers, Kabir is little known in the west. His poetry, often difficult to translate to English because of his use of arcane words and allusions, is nonetheless simple, immediate and deep.
Kabir was more than a poet. He was a philosopher and a man of the spirit. He was wise and humble and close to God. He was a saint.
In India he is perhaps the most quoted of writers, but, at the same time, in his life he criticized all the religious sects of his country. Regardless of this, he is still mentioned with respect and honour by even those most tradition-bound. This paradox can be accounted for by the fact that Kabir spoke the Truth. He, simply, had Wisdom.
It was this wisdom that told Kabir where he could find the truth.
He went to the bank of the river Ganges in Benares and he stayed there waiting for a great realized soul called Ramanand who also happened to be of the Brahmin caste. When Swami Ramanand came back after his bath, Kabir immediately caught hold of his feet. If somebody catches hold of the feet of any brahmin, especially after bath, that Brahmin would be typically outraged. But Ramanand was a saint. He was not a brahmin.
“He said, ‘My son, what do you want?’
“He said, ‘Sir, give me initiation. I want self realization.’
And Swami Ramanand immediately agreed.
“Ramanand’s followers objected saying, ‘Sir, he is a Muslim. He’s an orphan, brought up in a Muslim family. How can you give realization? He’ll not accept any of the principles from the Hindu religion.’
Ramanand looked at Kabir and he could see a great seeker there. He replied, ‘You don’t know him. I know him.’ And he took him with him and Kabir became a great saint at the feet of the mighty Ramanand
He went to a man who did not belong to his religion, who may not have accepted him, who might have just thrown him in the river in anger but he knew also through his wisdom that Ramanda was the one who will love him because they were both Seekers of Truth.
It is interesting to note that Swami Ramanand in this story fulfilled his own prophesy, for it had been him, years before, who had blessed Kabir’s mother to have an illustrious child. Ramanand accepted his new disciple without knowing his identity.
While Kabir properly honoured and respected his guru, there were differences in their understanding of reality. While Kabir scorned the outward rituals of the established ways, Ramanand still held them in reverence. While a traditionalist of the established order, Ramanand did allow Kabir to grow in his own way — and to the benefit of both men. With time, Ramanand came around to Kabir’s ways. It was the guru who changed.
Swami Ramanand had the habit to perform a daily puja to Lord Ram. He did this not with his hands, but with his attention. Washing, decorating and making offerings, Ramanand’s worship was in his mind. One day in his house, Ramanand performed his puja. Kabir, the disciple, sat outside, separated by a curtain. To his consternation, Ramanand realized he had made a mistake. He had mentally placed the crown on his God before placing the garland. The garland was not large enough in circumference to fit over the crown and the crown could not be removed once placed. What was he to do? Ramanand pondered his predicament. To remove the crown now would be disrespectful. From outside, from behind the curtain, Kabir spoke: “Gurudev, untie the knot of the garland and then tie it around the idol’s neck.” The guru was startled. How could Kabir have known his problem? No words had been spoken. Nothing was there to be seen. The swami called to his senior disciples, “Remove the curtain, for what can one hide from Kabir?” Ramanand stood up and embraced his disciple. He also began to embrace Kabir’s outspoken views. Kabir’s knowledge of the Inner Path would soon gain the guru’s acceptance.
To understand Kabir, we should go back to his roots. Born of a low, but skilled, caste, between the two worlds of Hindus and Muslims, Kabir understood life. “I do not quote from the scriptures,” he wrote. “I simply see what I see.” It is said that he invented his own caste — a caste below all others.
Says Kabir:
Lord, I weave the cloth of Thy Name
The fruitless toil
Of weaving for the world
Has come to an end;
I have attained
The dazzling state of bliss —
Free from fear, free from pain,
I am the weaver, O Lord, of Thy Name;
I weave and reap the profit
Of inner rapport with Thee.
I am the weaver of the Lord’s Name.
Kabir rejected the outward show of the sadhus, ascetics, all “God men” around him, who he described as “the thugs of Benares.” God is to be found, not in the temple, but inside:
I have met Him in my heart.
When a stream enters the Ganges,
it becomes the Ganges itself.
Kabir is lost in the Ganges.
Kabir knew true knowledge is taught by life:
There is nothing but water in the holy pools.
I know, I have been swimming in them.
All the gods sculpted of wood or ivory can’t say a word
I know, I have been crying out to them.
The sacred Books of the east are nothing but words.
I looked through their covers one day sideways.
What Kabir talks of is only what he has lived through.
If you have not lived through something it is not true.
Kabir stood firm on the Path of the Spirit: “Religion devoid of love is heresy,” he declared. “Yoga and penance, fasting and alms-giving are, without meditation, empty,” he affirmed.
There are many incidents and stories told about Kabir’s life, how he spoke out unhindered, addressing the spiritual confusions that surrounded him. One such dramatic sequence took place in the king’s court.
When a neighbouring sultan visited Benares, the king, an admirer of Kabir, was persuaded to summon the poet for the sultan’s inspection.
To the shock of all present, Kabir, rather than bowing and humbling himself, merely offered a common greeting no different than he would to any man. When asked to explain his behaviour, Kabir noted that there is only one king in the world — God. “Within the Hindu and the Muslim,” he added, “dwells the same God.”
The sultan, although not entirely a noble ruler, saw something in Kabir’s remarks. He was impressed by Kabir’s candor. He knew that it was no ordinary man who stood before him, but a true lover of God. Kabir’s transgressions were dismissed.
It was however the priests, both Hindu and Muslim, who, in alliance, campaigned and organized a case against the poet-saint. Assembling allies and witnesses in a political move against Kabir, who they felt was threatening their authority in the community, they forced him to return to the court to face trial. On his return, Kabir only smiled. “All my life,” he began, “I have tried to impress upon the Hindus and Muslims that God is one, the Father of both. I pleaded with them to join hands in worshipping the Lord of All, but they rejected my plea. They could never stand together in the court of the King of kings, but today it amuses me to see them standing united in the court of a worldly king, a mortal like all others.”
This was too much. The united front of the Muslim and Hindu “holy men” convinced the sultan of Kabir’s guilt as a heretic. Kabir was sentenced to death by drowning, but when thrown to the river his chain broke and Kabir floated away unharmed. The charge of magician was added and Kabir was set out to be trampled by an elephant, but the animal would not cooperate. “In its heart, too,” Kabir explained, “dwells the Lord.” Not to give up in defeat, the conspirators put Kabir to a fire. This time, however, he emerged, it is said, emitting a divine radiance.
Everyone was speechless in awe, including the sultan. To his credit, the sultan ordered Kabir freed of his ties. He approached the poet with remorse and guilt. “I did not realize your greatness,” he said at last. “Please forgive me.” He stood before the saint, eyes downcast, awaiting his judgment.
“You are not at fault,” Kabir said with the graciousness only possible in a saint. “Such was the will of God. Look up, O Sultan. Don’t feel sad. Forget what has happened. The Lord is all love and mercy. In His court true repentance never goes unrewarded.”
As Kabir says, “Forgiveness is a game that only the saints play.”
Like Gnyaneshwara before him and Guru Nanak and Sai Baba of Shirdi, who were to follow, Kabir strove for the One Truth. He described himself as the son of both Ram and Allah:
I am not a Hindu,
Nor a Muslim am I!
I am this body, a play
Of five elements; a drama
Of the spirit dancing
With joy and sorrow
Kabir urged introspection:
You were born on Earth as human,
Why are you in slumber now?
Take care of yourself;
Yourself is what you have to know.
The learned pundit gives discourse,
Not knowing God is near;
He does not know God dwells in him,
So seeks him here and there.
He urged us to get past the maya that surrounds us:
I am looking at you,
You at him,
Kabir asks, how to solve
This puzzle —
You, he and I?
And:
To live for sons and wealth,
For belongings and health,
O Kabir, is to be like the bird
Which during one night’s stay
Starts loving the tree.
One commentator of some insight, V.K. Sethi, sums up Kabir’s character:
“His living on his own honest earnings, his simplicity and purity, had a powerful impact on those who came in contact with him. His spiritual insight and personal charm kept even his opponents spellbound at times. Endowed with great spiritual power, attracting the rich and the poor, the learned and the simple to the circle of his disciples, he was yet humble and unassuming.”
Unlike many saints, Kabir was a writer. He left his words for us in his own hand. There is no doubt about what he said. In English, we are blessed to have had many of Kabir’s poems translated for our understanding by the great Indian novelist and playwright Rabindranath Tagore, also a realized soul.
It is estimated that Kabir wrote approximately two thousand bhajans and fifteen hundred couplets. Since, like many saints, his life has been wrapped in a cloak of legend, of miracles and of stories, it is best to approach a true understanding of Kabir through his own words:
Are you looking for me? I am in the next seat.
My shoulder is against yours.
You will not find me in the stupas, not in Indian shrine rooms, nor synagogues, nor in cathedrals:
not in masses, nor kirtans, not in legs winding around your own neck, nor in eating nothing but vegetables,
When you really look for me, you will see me instantly —
you will find me in the tiniest house of time.
Kabir says: Student, tell me, what is God?
He is the breath inside the breath.
I said to the wanting-creature inside me:
What is this river you want to cross?
There are no travellers on the river-road, and no road.
Do you see anyone moving about on that bank, or nesting?
There is no river at all, and no boat, and no boatman.
There is no tow rope either, and no one to pull it.
There is no ground, no sky, no time, no bank, no ford!
And there is no body, and no mind!
Do you believe there is some place that will make the soul less thirsty?
In that great absence you will find nothing,
Be strong then, and enter into your own body;
there you have a solid place for your feet.
Think about it carefully!
Don’t go off somewhere else!
Kabir says this: just throw away all thoughts of imaginary things,
and stand firm in that which you are.
This word “sahaj” is in many of Kabir’s poems. He describes that state of perfect balance where one is closest to God:
Where there is neither sea nor rains,
Nor sun nor shade;
Where there is neither creation
Nor dissolution;
Where prevails neither life nor death,
Nor pain nor pleasure;
Beyond the states of Sunn and trance;
Beyond words, O friend,
Is that unique state of Sahaj.
It can be neither weighed
Nor exhausted,
Is neither heavy nor light;
It has no upper regions
Nor lower ones;
It knows not the dawn of day
Nor the gloom of night;
Where there is neither wind
Nor water nor fire,
There abides the perfect Master.
It is inaccessible,
It is, and it will ever be;
Attain it through the Master’s grace.
Sayeth Kabir: I surrender myself
At the feet of my Master,
I remain absorbed
In his true company.
This state of oneness with the Divine is Kabir’s state of sahaj, his “verdure of bliss” where there is no separation. He writes:
I am in all
All that is, is I
The different forms in existence
Are my myriad manifestations,
Yet I am apart from all.
Call me Kabir,
Call me Ramrai [God the Emperor],
It is one and the same.
I am not a child,
I am not old,
And the glow of youth
Never can touch me.
I go not at anyone’s bidding
Nor come at anyone’s command.
In my state of Sahaj
I am in the verdure of bliss
Call me Kabir,
Call me Ramrai,
It is one and the same.
My covering is a single sheet
And people sneer at me:
My weaver’s calling inspires no respect;
My dress is tattered,
Patched at ten places —
Yet beyond the three attributes
Beyond the region of the ‘fruit’ [the law of karma]
I dwell in the realm of bliss;
Thus have I acquired the name Ramrai.
I see the entire world,
The world cannot see me;
Such is the unique state
that Kabir has attained.
Call me Kabir,
Call me Ramrai,
It is one and the same.
Kabir described the details of the subtle system. He uses an analogy familiar to a weaver:
O Servant of God, where do the Ida, Pingala and Sushumna nadis go when the thread of life breaks?
One who holds the thread is beyond time, but where does he live?
The thread is neither tied nor breaks.
Who is the master and who is the servant?
Only He knows his secret as He is the Eternal.
What is the warp [lengthwise threads] and what is the weft [cross threads]?
What are the threads from which the chadar [cloth] is woven?
Ida and Pingala are the warp and weft.
Sushumna are the threads from which the chadar is woven.
Eight are the Lotuses and ten are the spinning wheels.
Five are the elements and three the qualities of the chadar.
V.K. Sethi writes, “For over seventy years Kabir had taught the path of God-realization, raising the voice of truth despite slander and criticism. Many Muslims, and Hindus of all castes, had joined the fold of his disciples. His simple exposition of spiritual truth in the language of the masses, his analysis of the existing forms of worship, his message emphasizing self-realization while living, and above all, his personal magnetism drew true seekers to his door. But the orthodox could not be deprived of their hold on the people. Their coin, embossed with orthodoxy on the one side and formalism on the other, had been declared counterfeit by Kabir, a coin that world never gain entry into the Lord’s Treasury.”
Kabir’s death was the last lesson of his life, but his poetry lives on to guide us always.
In India it is believed that if one dies in the holy city of Benares salvation is guaranteed and escape from the cycle of rebirth will follow. Many Hindus journey to Benares with this purpose. Kabir lived his life in Benares, but as death approached he decided to journey to the village of Maghar, a particularly arid and ill-fated settlement. “What difference is there,” he said, “between Benares and barren Maghar if God be in the heart?”
When he died, it is said, Maghur’s usually dry stream was restored to a year-round river of water. The popular stigma attached to the village vanished, but, as is often the pattern with humans, a dispute arose over the body of the poet. The Hindu and Muslim camps among his disciples both wanted his remains. The Muslims wanted to bury the body. The Hindus wanted to cremate it. When the cloth was removed there was no body to be seen— only flowers.
The Muslims buried their half. The Hindus burned theirs.
The lesson was there, but was it heeded?
Kabir is Sahaj:
Self-realization is my saddle;
In the stirrup of Sahaj
I place my foot and ride,
Astride the steed of my mind.
Come, my steed, I’ll take you
On a trip to heaven;
If you balk
I’ll urge you on
With the whip of divine love.
Says Kabir: The adept riders
Remain aloof from both
The Vedas and the Koran.
Sant Kabir and his chela Kamaal
One day Kabirji was wandering around the steps along the river (ghats) when he saw a body floating by. As soon as it touched him he came alive. It was a young man whom he took home and called him Kamaal (miracle).
A king from Rajasthan came to Varanasi for a cure from leprosy. He was advised to meet Kabirji Maharaj and as the king went looking he accidentally met Kamaal on the ghats. When he asked Kamaal about Kabirji’s whereabouts the chela wanted to know the reason for his search.
So the king explained the purpose of his visit. Kamaal told him that the task was so simple which even he, the pupil could cure him of; therefore he need not bother meeting the Guru. The king agreed to be cured by Kamaal; together they went to the river bank and Kamaal asked him to dip himself in the water while chanting the name of Shri Ram. When the king took a dip he was so cold that he barely called the name of Ram and jumped out. There was no visible difference on his skin. So Kamaal asked him to concentrate and chant the name of God with all honesty and sincerity. But again he was too cold to speak the name with any feeling. Now the pupil got so exasperated that he asked the king to allow him to help him. When the king went in for a dip Kamaal pushed and held the king’s head under water as a result of which the king called out God’s name in earnest, pleading to be saved. His skin cleared completely and he was cured of the dreadful disease.
Quite pleased with himself the pupil went home to his guru Kabirji and told him about his success. After Kabir heard him he slapped the boy, scolding him for wasting God’s name three times for one man. He asked the pupil to go visit Tulsidas to understand the value of God’s name.
Tulsidas told Kamaal to write Jai Shree Ram on a tulsi (holy basil) leaf and dip it in water and then sprinkle it on as many victims of leprosy. When he did that he cured about two thousand people. The overjoyed pupil returned to tell his Guru about his resounding success. Again Kabir slapped him and sent him to Surdas to fully understand the meaning of the name of God. Surdas who was blind asked Kamaal to write only half the name of Ram that is Ra to test its potency. Therefore with chanting just half of his name the pupil was able to cure thousands of people. Finally Kabirdas was pleased the pupil had understood the enormity of chanting God’s name.
Kamal, Son of Saint Kabir
KABIR WAS INTENSELY devoted to Sri Rama, and he never failed to feed those who sang the praise of the Lord with devotion. On one occasion, however, it so happened that he had not the wherewithal to provide food for a large gathering of devotees. For him, however, there could be no alternative except that he must somehow make every necessary arrangement before the next morning. So he and his son set out at night to secure the required provisions.
The story goes that after the father and son had removed the provisions from a merchant’s house through a hole they made in the wall, the son went in again just to wake up the household and tell them, as a matter of principle, that their house had been burgled. When, having roused the household, the boy tried to make good his escape through the hole and join his father on the other side, his body got stuck in the aperture. To avoid being identified by the pursuing household (because, if detected, there would be no feeding at all of the devotees the next day), he called out to his father and told him to sever his head and take it away with him. That done, Kabir made good his escape with the stolen provisions and his son’s head, which on reaching home was hidden away from possible detection.
The next day Kabir gave a feast to the bhaktas, quite unmindful of what had happened the previous night. “If it is Rama’s Will,” said Kabir to himself, “that my son should die, may it prevail!” In the evening after the feast, Kabir set out with his party as usual in procession into the town with bhajana, etc. Meanwhile, the burgled householder reported to the king, producing the truncated body of Kamal, which gave them no clue. In order to secure its identification, the king had the body tied up prominently on the highway so that whoever claimed it or took it away (for no dead body is forsaken without the last rites being given to it by the kith and kin) might be interrogated or arrested by the police, who were posted secretly for the purpose. Kabir and his party came along the highway with the bhajana in full swing when, to the astonishment of all, Kamal’s truncated body (which was considered dead as a door-nail) began to clap its hands, marking time to the tune sung by the bhajana party.
This story disproves the suggestion that the head or the place between the eyebrows is the seat of the Self. It may also be noted that when in the battlefield the head of a soldier in action is severed from the body by a sudden and powerful stroke of the sword, the body continues to run or move its limbs as in a mock fight, just for a while, before it finally falls down dead.
A devotee protested: “But Kamal’s body was dead hours before.” Bhagavan replied: “What you call death is really no extraordinary experience for Kamal. Here is the story of what happened when he was younger still.”
As a boy Kamal had a friend of equal age with whom he used to play games of marbles etc. A general rule they observed between themselves was that if one of them owed the other a game or two, the same should be redeemed the next day. One evening they parted with a game to the credit of Kamal. Next day, in order to claim “the return of the game”, Kamal went to the boy’s house, where he saw the boy laid on the verandah, while his relatives were weeping beside him. “What is the matter?” Kamal asked them. “He played with me last evening and also owes me a game.” The relatives wept all the more saying that the boy was dead. “No,” said Kamal, “he is not dead but merely pretends to be so, just to evade redeeming the game he owes me.” The relatives protested, asking Kamal to see for himself that the boy was really dead, that the body was cold and stiff. “But all this is a mere pretension of the boy, I know. What if the body be stiff and cold? I too can become like that.” So saying Kamal laid himself down and in the twinkling of an eye was dead.
The poor relatives who were weeping till then for the death of their own boy, were distressed and dismayed, and now began to weep for Kamal’s death also. But up rose Kamal on his back, declaring, “Do you see it now? I was as you would say dead, but I am up again, alive and kicking. This is how he wants to deceive me, but he cannot elude me like this with his pretensions.” In the end, the story goes, Kamal’s inherent saintliness gave life to the dead boy, and Kamal got back that was due to him. The moral is that the death of the body is not the extinction of the Self. The Self is not limited by birth and death, and its place in the physical body is not circumscribed by one’s experience felt at a particular place, as for instance between the eyebrows, due to practice of dhyana made on that centre. The supreme State of Self-awareness is never absent; it transcends the three states of the mind as well as life and death.
