Satire, the pilgrimage that never leaves home
Original Marathi from the Tukaram Gatha · About Sant Tukaram
मराठी मूळ
परिसें गे सुनेबाई । नको वेचूं दूध दहीं ॥1॥
आवा चालिली पंढरपुरा । वेसीपासुनि आली घरा ॥ध्रु.॥
ऐकें गोष्टी सादर बाळे । करीं जतन फुटकें पाळें ॥2॥
माझे हातींचा कलवडू । मजवाचुंनि नको फोडूं ॥3॥
वळवटिक्षरीचें लिंपन । नको फोडूं मजवांचून ॥4॥
उखळ मुसळ जातें । माझें मन गुंतलें तेथें ॥5॥
भिक्षुक आल्या घरा । सांग गेली पंढरपुरा ॥6॥
भक्षीं मपित आहारु । नको फारसी वरो सारूं ॥7॥
सून ह्मणे बहुत निकें । तुह्मी यात्रेसि जावें सुखें ॥8॥
सासूबाई स्वहित जोडा । सर्व मागील आशा सोडा ॥9॥
सुनमुखीचें वचन कानीं । ऐकोनि सासू विवंची मनीं ॥10॥
सवतीचे चाळे खोटे । म्यां जावेंसें इला वाटे॥11॥
अतां कासया यात्रे जाऊं । काय जाउनि तेथें पाहूं॥12॥
मुलें लेंकरें घर दार । माझें येथें चि पंढरपूर ॥13॥
तुका ह्मणे ऐसें जन । गोवियेलें मायेंकरून ॥14॥
Tukaram Gatha (Marathi Wikisource)
English Translation
Listen, dear daughter-in-law, do not waste the milk and curds. Your mother-in-law has set out for Pandharpur but only got as far as the village gate before turning back home. Listen carefully, child, and guard the cracked pot with care. Do not break my curd-stirrer without me. Do not break the dried-dung coating on the grinding-stones without me. My mind is attached to the mortar, pestle, and grinding-stone. If a mendicant comes to the house, tell him I have gone to Pandharpur. Eat simply and do not cook too elaborately. The daughter-in-law says sweetly, go happily on your pilgrimage, mother; give up all backward-looking attachment. Hearing her daughter-in-law's words, the old woman thinks to herself: my rival wants me gone. So why should I go on pilgrimage at all? What would I see there anyway? My children, grandchildren, house, and home are my Pandharpur right here. Says Tuka, such is the way of people, bound by the ropes of illusion.
We ask forgiveness for any inaccuracies in rendering Tukaram ji’s original Marathi.
In Plain Words
Listen, daughter-in-law: do not waste the milk and the curds. Your mother-in-law has set out for Pandharpur. She got as far as the village gate, and then she came back home. Listen carefully, child, and guard the cracked pot. Do not break my curd-stirrer while I am gone. Do not break the dried-dung coating on the grinding-stones while I am gone. My mind is caught in the mortar, the pestle, the grinding-stone. If a beggar comes to the house, tell him I have gone to Pandharpur. Eat plainly. Do not cook elaborate food. The daughter-in-law says sweetly: this is very good, go on your pilgrimage happily. Mother-in-law, gather your own true welfare; let go of every backward longing. Hearing her daughter-in-law's words, the old woman thinks in her heart: my rival wants me gone. These are her false games; she only wishes I would leave. So why should I go on pilgrimage now? What would I go and see there anyway? My children, my grandchildren, my house and door, my Pandharpur is right here. Tuka says: this is how people are, bound fast by Maya.
What it means
The whole abhanga is a comic portrait of a pilgrim who never makes it past the gate. The old woman announces she is leaving for Pandharpur, the holy town of Vitthal, but turns back before she has gone a step, fussing over the curds, the cracked pot, the stirrer, the grinding-stones. Her mind is glued to the kitchen, not to God. When the daughter-in-law urges her to go and let go of attachment, she hears only rivalry and convinces herself that her home, her children, her house, is itself Pandharpur. Tuka names the pattern without insult: this is how Maya binds an ordinary person, who mistakes the clutch of household things for piety and calls it pilgrimage. The mirror is turned toward anyone who plans the journey to God but cannot loosen a single grip to take it.
Worldly Metaphors
Poems using images from games, occupations, and daily life as spiritual teaching.
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