Soyrabai and Chokhamela (13th century Marathi bhakti poets) belonged to the
outcaste mahar community.
Excluded from the
caste system as ‘untouchables’ they were forcibly kept outside (stringently policed) town limits and
only allowed in to perform tasks deemed too lowly for caste Hindus. For these services to ‘civilized’ society,
they were reviled. Chokhamela's hereditary task was to remove dead animals from people's homes and farms and to dispose of
them beyond the town limits. Initiated into bhakti spirituality by the
poet-saint Namdev (1270?-1350?) Chokha passed this on to his wife Soyra and also to his son, sister and brother-in-law all
of whom have left lyrics.
The enduring
popularity of bhakti poetry, produced as it mostly was by people who either
inhabited the margins of society or lived precarious lives outside it, offered a constant challenge to the
self-perception of some members of the dominant castes, especially the men of learning, the brahmins, who sometimes
tended to see themselves as the sole repositories, agents and arbiters of culture. The irony of history has
seen this once marginal poetry, considered beyond the pale by pundits in its own time, attain the status of classic,
now routinely taught in university courses in Marathi literature.
The first three
of the lyrics below are by Soyrabai, the final two by Chokhamela. Soyra rarely uses her name in her signature line,
most often alluding to herself as Chokhiyachi mahari or Chokha's
mahar (untouchable) woman.
They tell
me my touch pollutes
They tell me my
touch pollutes
though I know my
soul is pure.
Don't all who are
born push out
of the same befouled
passageway
between a woman's
legs?
Which part of a
woman's body
do they think they
were born from
these worthies
who call themselves
The Pure? God doesn't
recognise
their greatness
to him all bodies
are equally impure.
Don't let
the body's corruption
sully
your soul says
Chokha's woman.
_________________________
Having
met you face-to-face, Lord
Having met you
face-to-face, Lord
I have no further
desires.
Caste-difference
no longer matters
for you've cleansed
me from within.
I was caught fast
in a net
of restrictions
but your Name
cut loose the ropes
that bit
into my flesh.
I'm free
says Chokha's woman.
_____________________
Come Lord,
and let me worship
Come Lord, and
let me worship
you with flowers
oil-lamp incense.
Let me serve you
a plateful
of the food I feed
my family.
But can you eat
our coarse
bread, Lord? You
may need
to sweeten it.
Vidura's* fine grains
and Draupadi's*
fresh greens
may be more to
your taste.
Says Chokha's woman,
the Lord
relished the meal I put before him.
______________________
*Characters from
the epic Mahabharat.
Run to
me, Lord
Run to me, Lord
don't walk so slow.
The brahmins
bash me*
for imagined crimes.
How can the jewel
of the Lord's praise
grace an untouchable's
throat they ask.
They
spew vile names
at me
say I've defiled
their god.
___________________
*This line has proved
difficult, because more is going on here than can perhaps be easily translated. The Marathi phrase is badwe badwiti : of the
many available words for "priests" and "physical violence" Chokha chose these two, so he could play on their
sound and meaning. The effect of this is to undercut what the words themselves say, because even as he speaks from a
victim position, he is asserting his power over language, and not just over language. For anyone who knows this lyric, these
two words for "priests" and "violence" are forever linked.
Was Chokha aware
of what he was doing, in the sense of being able to articulate his practice? Probably not. Does this matter? I
don't think so. An instinctive ability to manipulate the aural and emotional registers of language, together
with the context supplied by a thriving oral tradition (which, among other things, provided
an informal apprenticeship in craft to anyone open to receiving it) seem to have been sufficient to produce the
great flowering of Marathi bhakti poetry that occurred at this time.
The sugarcane
may warp
The sugarcane may warp
but its juice stays
sweet.
Why be fooled by
appearances?
The bow may bend
but its arrow
flies straight.
Why be fooled by
appearances?
The river may twist
but its water runs
pure.
Why be fooled by
appearances?
Chokha may
be untouchable
but God dwells
within him.
Why be fooled by
appearances?
______________________
Translation and notes by Anjali Yardi.
Translation Copyright @ Anjali Yardi, 2006
