The Arsonist: Poet, Weaver, Seer, Blasphmer by Kiran Nagarkar

The Arsonist: Poet, Weaver, Seer, Blasphemer by Kiran Nagarkar
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

The author has reimagined a hash of Kabir's time and the present times (circa 2014 onwards) and has presented on how Kabir would have acted or spoken if these were happenings in his time. Every chapter ends with an inimitable doha of Kabir and its simple translation.

The book is full of what some may call blasphemy, but that is what Kabir was full of.

In the first chapter he is asked whom will you prefer "A beautiful woman or God, A sunset or God or a song and God" and each time he says he prefers the former as God would always wait but the former would pass on.

The chapter ends with the doha.

Kabir yeh ghar prem ka,
Khaala ka ghar naahi,
Sheesh utaare bhuin dharey,
Tab paithe ghar maahi.

Kabir, this is the dwelling of love,
Not the home of your aunt,
Bend you head (ego) low, all the way to the floor,
Only then can you enter it.

Kabir talks of his wanderings in the Himalayas after running away from his family. He says he performed severe austere rites and subjected his body to rigours which few could endure like not using blankets even in severe winter, not eating for days together etc. He was being hailed as a Maharishi for his forbearance. He says a blacksmith's wife came with her son who was not good at learning and was being thrashed by this father every week. This boy tries to give Kabir blanket to cover himself which he refuses, then he tries to him food. Kabir refuses both. He says he had given up his family who were precious to him, now he is forsaking the blanket and food which are precious to him now so that he can reach the Almighty. What is left unsaid is that, this is his ego that was speaking. The blacksmith's son tells him "Then you should let go of the Almighty too?". The import of the meaning does not strike Kabir then, but as he mulls over he gets the real meaning of what the blacksmith's son said and makes him his guru.
Ja ghat prem na sancharey
So ghat jaan masaan,
Jaise khaal lohar ki,
Saan let bin praan.

That pot which is not filled with love,
Beware, it is as barren as the burial grounds,
Just like the blacksmith's bellows,
It breathes bereft of life.

Kabir runs a weaving factory producing cloth for the king of the land and many are enrolled in his classes cum factory. The high class members protest against the freedom of the low caste people working in the factory. Kabir sushes them by saying that God allows all humans to enter heaven irrespective of their class. If at all, he tells the upper caste people, he will ask the so called lower caste people to throw people like you who use the caste system to suppress a whole set of people.

Kabir kaun ek hai,
Panihaari anek,
Bartan sab ke nyare nyare,
Paani sab mein ek.

Kabir there is but one well,
but many draw water from it.
The pots come in all shapes and sizes,
But all contains the same water.

Once when a weaver in the factory asks him are you Hindu or a Muslim. He says that he is confused about his religious belief. He says God himself must be confused as to if he is a Hindu, or a Muslim, or a Christian or any of the other numerous religions that humans have created. So who is he to say that he clearly understand what his religion is.

Man ke mate na chaliye,
Man ke mate anek,
Jo man par aswaar ho,
So sadhu koi ek.

Don't let your mind lead you,
It is pulled in every direction by desires
The one who rides his mind
Now that is a rare saint.

He says the problem with a guru is that often one cannot see beyond the guru. The guru is a vision and a blinker at the same time. It is easy to forget one is not searching for the guru but for God. Once one has found a guru and have understood this teachings it is time to think of leaving him and making one's own way.

Boond samaani samand mein,
Jaanat hai har koi,
Samand samaana boond mein,
Jaanat birla koi.

The drop becomes one with the ocean,
Everyone knows this,
It is the rare soul who grasps,
That the ocean fits into the drop.

Once when his assistants started arguing as to if only Muslims will go to heaven and all others will go to heaven Kabir douses their heated battle with a vat of dye being used in the factory and tells them Shias will not allow Sunnis in their heaven and vice versa. He says the heavens are infinite and have space for every one. And he adds saying that the fights of us earthlings will come to and end as we being mortals will die and the fight will end, but those in heavens are immortal and there will be a permanent world war there.

Pathhar puje hari miley,
Toh main puju pahad,
Taase toh chaaki bhali,
Pees khaaye sansar.

If one found God by worshipping a stone,
Then I would worship a mountain,
By that measure a grinding stone is far better,
The whole world consumes what it grinds.

He argues how men philander but expect their women to be chaste and behind their burqa or veils. His wife argues that she is free to do with her body as she pleases, just as he does with his body and none has the authority to stop her from doing what she wants. As the argument gets heated Kabir pronounces the three times the dreaded word "Talaaq, Talaaq, Talaaq". Instead of being mortified with anger his wife rejoices saying that she is happy that she is now free from his fetters. She throws him out of her house where they had been living after Kabir had gambled away his own house. When he begs to be allowed to stay on so that he does not become a laughing stock in the town his wife offers him her burqa so that he can wear it and walk the streets without anyone recognizing him.
Soon his wife starts missing his humour. She says "Humour is not just fun and laughter, it is a call to sanity. It exposes all our inanities, platitudes and solemnities, our insufferable egotism, our endless self-regard and hubris. The curious thing is that it is as much a mirror to the follies of others as it is a dressing down of oneself. The moment is is infected with sentimentality it turns squelchy. Even stark poverty and starvation can then be romanticized and made to look desirable. It also comes handy when you want to pass the buck to someone else or disown responsibility. On the contrary, when it is clear eyed, it can see through all kinds of sham and chicanery. It may be harsh, but it is also healing."

Kankar pathar jod key,
Masjid liye banaaye,
Taa chad mulla bang de,
Kyaa behra hua khudaaye?

Putting stones and rocks together,
You build a mosque,
Then climbing to the top the mullah sings the azam,
Does he think God is deaf?

Have you noticed something else? Something bizzare? Satan, I mean Lucifer, has all the time in the world, and I mean quality time, for all of us. He is always available. Not just that, he takes the initiative, he is patient, he is persevering and, most of all he never gives up on us. He is always there, even when we do not want him. In fact especially when we do not want him.

Why does God get all the credit for good and why is all even attribute to Satan? If God is the creator, the can handle both. You must decide who is in charge here, my friends. Only then will you understand that all polarities and divisions are sacrilege. God, if I may use one of these newfangled academic terms, is the unified theory of the universe. Good and evil, warmonger and pacifist, Hindu, Muslim, Jew, Christian, Buddhist, materialist and preacher, atheist and believer are all encompassed in Him. He is large enough and wise enough to accommodate all contradictions.

Karni kare toh kyun dare,
Aur kari kyun pachhtaaye
Tune boya ped babul ka,
To aam kahan se khaaye.

Having committed the deed,
Why would you be afraid, and then repent,
First you sow the thorny babul,
Then how come you expect to eat mangoes.

During holi Kabir was dancing and enjoying with the general public in their revelry. The mullah sees him and tells him for this he go to hell. Kabir replies "Thank you for your generous offer to find accommodation for me in hell, mullah. But perhaps you can enlighten me about a rather delicate matter. Who gave some of us the incredible benediction of a singing voice? The boon of dancing feet? And the gift of transcribing the sky, the Himalayan peaks, or the sheer extravagance of the flowers in the Kashmir valley or the intimacy between a man and woman? The miracle that conjoins speech with language and thus allows us to communicate with each other and tell marvellous stories? Certainly not you but our Maker. And now you have the gall, Shahi Imam, to place yourself about God himself and pass fiats and dikats in His name. You claim obeisance to the Almighty but in fact are shamelessly usurping his role. What is the make of the fact that you and your brothers in the priesthood insist that all women and men cover their heads? If God had disliked mankind's hair so much, he would have made no just women but all of us men also as bald. After all as you never stop repeating, He is the Creator and He knows the best".

Jab main thaa tab Hari nahi,
Ab Hari hain main nahi,
Prem gali ati saankari,
Taa me do na samaayi,

When I was the Almighty was not,
Now that He is, I am not,
The path of love is very narrow,
Two cannot fit in it.

When the fatality numbers rise to hundreds, thousands and hundreds of thousands, what you get is a pestilence like the plague, cholera or the pox as in small pox. Murder, however is a different kettle of fish. The top honcho on earth, none other than man himself, is the agent of perdition here.

Mala toh kaar mein phire,
Jeebh phire mukh mahin,
Manwa toh chahun dish phire,
Yeh toh simran nahi.

The beads move between the fingers,
The tongue rolls in the mouth,
If the mind wanders everywhere,
that surely isn't meditation.

Pothi padh padh kar jag mua,
Pandit bhayo na koye,
Dhai aakhar prem ke,
Jo padhe so pandit hoye.

Reading holy texts time and again,
Didn't ever produce a great scholar,
The one who lives by the four letters of the word love,
He alone will become a pandit.

The latter half of the book is fully about riots due to religious differences in the kingdom and about a gang massacring elephants for their tusks and how the king's men chase them down and catch them.

Bura jo dekhan main chala,
Toh bura na miliya koi,
Jo man khoja aapna,
Toh mujsey bura na koyi.

In my quest to spot the evil ones,
I found none who were evil,
On delving deep into myself,
I found none more evil than me.



Dukh mein sumiran sab karey,
Sukh mein kare na koye,
Jo sukh mein sumiran karey,
To dukh kahe ko hoye.

We invariably remember Him when we are disconsolate,
No one, however, thinks of Him when one is happy,
But if you remember Him when the times are good,
Why would bad times bother you?

Never forget, God, whichever creed He belongs to, is an extremely competitive guy. He has to be one up on all the other impostors who claim to be Him. So your guess is as good as mine when it comes to picking the right God.

Bada hua toh kya hua,
Jaisi par khajur,
Panthi ki chaaya nahin,
Phal lagey ati door.

Granted you are tall, so what is the big deal?
The date palm is tall,
But it offers no shade to the traveller,
And its fruits are beyond reach.

Pani keraa budbudda,
Us maanas ki jaath,
Dekhat hi chhip jaayega,
Jyon taara parbaat.

Human life is as short,
As a water bubble
It vanishes the moment you see it,
Like stars at dawn.

Kaal chakra chakki chaley,
Bahut diwas aur raat,
Agun sagun doi paatlaa,
Ja mey jeev pisaath.

The grinding stone of death,
Carries on day and night.
The form and formless are its two grinding wheels,
Every one of us is being ground in between.

Kal karey so aaj kar,
Aaj karey so ab.
Pal mein pralaya hoyegi,
Bahuri karogey kab.

What was scheduled for tomorrow, do it today,
What you planned for today do it now.
Who knows there may be a deluge the next minute,
Delay a moment and all may be lost.

Dheerey dheery re mana,
Dheerey sab khuchh hoye,
Maali seenchey so ghara,
Ritu aaye phal hoye.

Slow and steady, oh mind,
Everything will come about in good time,
The gardener may pour lots of water,
But the fruit will only arrive in its own season.

"Can you imagine", God asked in a towering dudgeon, "the gall of trying to bribe the Almighty? The animal kingdom, the fish in the sea, the birds in the sky and all the big and small creatures roaming the earth leave me alone and demand nothing of me. They do their thing and I do mine. But when it comes to men, women and children, what can one say? A pox on them, their demands are endless and they are never ever satisfied."

Jasey til mein tel hai,
Jyon chakamak mein aag.
Tera sai tujh mein hai,
Tu jaag sakey to jaag.

Just as the sesame seed contains oil,
As spark is present in flintstone.
The divine is within you,
Comprehend this if possible.

Sayee itna deejiye,
Ja main kutumb samaye.
Main bhi bhooka na rahoon,
Sadhu na bhookha jaye.

Give me only so much, God,
It ensures that my family is fed,
I should not starve,
Nor should the holy man go hungry.

Where does the evil in us come from? Why is it that when all our needs are satisfied, we still cannot control our inexhaustible greed? Why is it that the less fortunate amongst us, the starving millions, the helpless children, the refugees fleeing their homes under the thread of death do not find succour in our hearts? We know the difference between justice and injustice, between right and wrong, good and evil, and yet when a Hitler turns up we are more than happy to benumb our consciences and let him indulge in holocausts. How come we will not stand up and force our feckless leaders to take stand?
I keep wondering what will happen when finally mankind achieves extinction. How many millions of years will have to pass before the next creatures turn up on earth? What will they look like? will they be far more advanced than us? Will they survive unlike us on carbon dioxide and plastic? And will they too ultimately ensure their own annihilation?

Akath kahani prem ki,
Kuchh kaha na jaye,
Goongey ker sarkara,
Baithey muskaye.

The story of love seals the lips,
It is akin to the mute.
Who has tasted a marvellous sweet,
But can only register a smile.

Kabira garv na keejiye,
Uncha dekh aavaas.
Kaal pairon punyah letna,
Uper jamsi ghaas.

Kabir don't be so haughty,
Living in your mansion.
Tomorrow you will be lying six feet under,
With grass growing on top.

Chinta aisee dakini,
Kaat kaleja khaaye,
Vaid bichaara kya karey,
Kahan tak dawa lagaaye.

worry is such a pickpocket,
It keeps nibbling non-stop at your heart.
How can the poor doctor help,
When this medicine can't cure this malady?

Guru Narayan roop hai,
Guru gyan ko ghat,
Satguru gyan pratap sey,
Man key mitey uchat.

The guru is but an avatar of God,
The guru's wisdom is like a riverbank.
The Lord's light will eliminate,
The darkness of the mind.

Chah gayee, chinta mitee,
Manvah beparvah.
Jisko kacchu na chahiye,
Vahi Shahenshah.

Desire disappeared, anxiety is gone,
The mind is without anxiety.
The one who wants nothing,
He is the king of kings.

Did God make man or man make God?

Must read for lovers of Kabir and Kiran Nagarkar.

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