Fugadi, the taunt to the flagging self
Original Marathi from the Tukaram Gatha · About Sant Tukaram
मराठी मूळ
फुगडी फू सवती माझे तूं । हागुनि भरलें धू तुझ्या ढुंगा तोंडावरि ॥१॥
फुगडी घेतां आली हरी । ऊठ जावो जगनोवरी ॥ध्रु.॥
हातपाय बेंबळ जाती । ढुंगण घोळितां लागे माती ॥२॥
सात पांच आणिल्या हरी । वांचुनी काय तगसी पोरी ॥३॥
सरला दम पांगले पाय । आझुनि वरी घोळिसी काय ॥४॥
तुका म्हणे आझुन तरी । सांगितलें तें गधडी करी ॥५॥
लखोटा - अभंग १
Tukaram Gatha (Marathi Wikisource)
English Translation
Fugadi, fu! You are my co-wife, O rival. You have defecated on yourself; wash your face and your backside. As she played the fugadi, Hari came along; rise now, O bride of the Lord of the world. Hands and legs go limp, and as the backside drags, it gathers dust. Five and seven more were brought along by Hari; how long can you last without them, girl? Your breath is spent, your legs have given way; why do you still try to spin around? Says Tuka, even now, do what you have been told, you she-donkey.
We ask forgiveness for any inaccuracies in rendering Tukaram ji’s original Marathi.
In Plain Words
Fugadi, fu! You are my co-wife and my rival. You have fouled yourself; go and wash your face and clean up. As she spun the fugadi, Hari came along: rise now, bride of the Lord of the world. Her hands and legs go limp, and her dragging body gathers dust. Hari has brought five or seven others along; how long can you hold out without them, girl? Your breath is spent, your legs have given way; why do you still go on spinning? Tuka says: even now, do the thing you were told to do, you stubborn fool.
What it means
A rough, comic fugadi-taunt in the idiom of village women's games, where rivals jeer at each other across the spinning. Read as allegory, it is the contest between the soul's flagging lower nature and the resolve that would hand it over to God: the exhausted, soiled, stubborn player is the worldly self, spun out and unable to keep up, taunted to give in and do at last what it was told. Hari arriving in the middle of the game changes everything; the only sane move left is surrender. Tukaram keeps the coarse playground voice on purpose; the teaching wears motley, but it is the familiar one, stop your futile spinning and obey.
Krishna Leela
Poems celebrating Krishna's birth, childhood, and divine play.
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