The kirtan dance, caste pride trampled
Original Marathi from the Tukaram Gatha · About Sant Tukaram
मराठी मूळ
खेळ मांडियेला वाळवंटीं घाई । नाचती वैष्णव भाई रे । क्रोध अभिमान केला पावटणी । एक एका लागतील पायीं रे ॥१॥
नाचती आनंदकल्लोळीं । पवित्र गाणें नामावळी । कळिकाळावरि घातलीसे कास । एक एकाहुनी बळी रे ॥ध्रु.॥
गोपीचंदनउटी तुळसीच्या माळा । हार मिरवती गळां । टाळ मृदंग घाई पुष्पवरुषाव । अनुपम्य सुखसोंहळा रे ॥२॥
लुब्धलीं नादीं लागली समाधी । मूढ जन नर नारी लोकां । पंडित ज्ञानी योगी महानुभाव । एकचि सद्धिसाधकां रे ॥३॥
वर्णाभिमान विसरली याति । एकएकां लोटांगणीं जाती । निर्मळ चित्तें जालीं नवनीतें । पाषाणा पाझर सुटती रे ॥४॥
होतो जयजयकार गर्जत अंबर । मातले हे वैष्णव वीर रे । तुका म्हणे सोपी केली पायवाट । उतरावया भवसागर रे ॥५॥
एके घाई खेळतां न पडसी डाई । दुचाळ्याने ठकसील भाई रे ।
Tukaram Gatha (Marathi Wikisource)
English Translation
The game has been set up on the open sands with great fervor. The Vaishnava brothers dance, trampling anger and pride underfoot, bowing at one another's feet. They dance in waves of bliss, singing the holy litany of the Name. They have girded themselves against the power of time itself, each one mightier than the last. Sandalwood paste, tulsi garlands, and flower necklaces adorn their throats. Cymbals and drums beat in a shower of blossoms, an incomparable festival of joy. The sound draws everyone into a trance: the dull, the common folk, men and women, the learned, the yogis, and the great souls, all are made equal in that one devotion. They have forgotten the pride of caste and birth; they prostrate before one another. Their chittas have turned soft as fresh butter, and even stones begin to melt. The cry of victory resounds and the sky trembles; these Vaishnava warriors are intoxicated. Says Tuka, they have made the path simple and easy for crossing the ocean of worldly existence. Play with a single-minded stroke and you will never fall; the double-minded one will be defeated, O brother.
We ask forgiveness for any inaccuracies in rendering Tukaram ji’s original Marathi.
In Plain Words
The game is set up on the open sands with full force. The Vaishnava brothers dance, trampling anger and pride underfoot, bowing at one another's feet. They dance in waves of bliss, singing the holy litany of the Name. They have girded themselves against the power of time itself, each one mightier than the last. Sandalwood paste, tulsi garlands, flower wreaths around their throats. Cymbals and drums beat in a shower of blossoms, a joy beyond compare. The sound draws everyone into a trance: the dull, the common folk, men and women, the learned, the yogis, the great souls, all made one in this devotion. They forget the pride of caste and birth; they fall flat before one another. Their hearts turn soft as fresh butter, and even stones begin to melt. The cry of victory rings out and the sky shakes; these Vaishnava warriors are drunk with it. Tuka says: they have made the path simple, the way to cross the ocean of this world. Play with one undivided stroke and you will never fall; the double-minded one is the one who is beaten, brother.
What it means
Tukaram describes the communal singing on the riverbank sands as a kind of war fought against time and ego, and won by bowing rather than striking. The radical claim is social as much as devotional: in the dance the proud rankings of caste and birth simply dissolve, the learned and the simple, men and women, all leveled into one body of worshippers prostrating to each other. The image of hearts softening like butter and stones melting names what bhakti does that nothing else can. The closing turn warns where the danger lies: salvation is for the single-minded, and only the divided heart, hedging its devotion, loses the game.
Devotion to Vitthal
Poems of praise, invocation, and intimate address to Lord Vitthal at Pandharpur.
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