KABIR.
Reading edition
A LITTLE of Kabir's poetry having been quoted in "The Mirror and the Bracelet," a few particulars regarding the author himself may not be out of place.
Kabir, a weaver by trade, born of Mahomedan parents, lived in the fifteenth century. His poetry is therefore very much older than that of Spencer or Shakespeare. Portions of the writings of this ancient poet have been incorporated in the Granth, and from their sarcastic humour, form to an English reader one of the most attractive parts. Dr. Trumpp remarks that "Kabir the weaver is to be regarded as the author of the whole reformatory movement going on in India during the Middle Ages." There is still a sect bearing the name of this very remarkable man.
How little Kabir the weaver was influenced by either Hindu superstitions or Mahomedan traditions is shown by the following extraordinary poem, in which he ridicules alike the sacred books of both:—
"Thou shouldst ride on thy own reflection! Thou shouldst put foot into the stirrup of tranquillity, Apply the nose-ring, put on the bridle, All decoration, and make (it) run about in the sky. Go on, I will take thee to Paradise. If thou draw back I will strike thee with the whip of love. Kabir says these are good riders Who keep aloof from the Veda * and the Koran."
Some other extracts from this Oriental poet appear worthy of being placed before English readers who are not likely to obtain a sight of Dr. Trumpp's voluminous and learned translation of the book so dear to the Sikhs.
In most quaint language Kabir thus expresses a very deep truth:—
"By the saints the butter is eaten, the world drinks the buttermilk."
A Christian might have written the following verse:—
"The saints have died; why should weeping be made that they go to their home The stars at dawn pass away, so the world passes away."
Like Goru Nanak, in his writings the gifted weaver expresses deep humility:—
"Every one says (I am) good, good: no one considers (himself) bad. Kabir says, I am the worst of all; every one is good except me. Who considers himself in this light, he is my friend."
With playful irony the poet says to some Oriental fop:—
"On which head (thou art) arranging and fastening a turban, That head the bill of the crow will dress."
Then the light but keen edge of his wit strikes the hoarder of wealth:—
"To the miser wealth is given for the sake of keeping it, The fool says 'The property is mine.' When the staff of Zama (death) is struck on his head, The matter is decided in a moment."
Thus Kabir writes of the Mahomedan's loud formal call to prayer:—
"O Mullah! why ascendest thou the minaret? The Lord is not deaf. For whose sake thou makest the call, behold him even in (thy) heart."
Superstition and idolatry are boldly rebuked by Kabir:—
"Some one does not obey his living father, When he dies he causes a Shradh to be said for him. How shall the helpless defunct fathers also obtain (the offering), The crow and the dog eat it." "Having made a Devi Deva (images) of earth, Thou sacrificest before them an animal. An animate being they slaughter, and worship a lifeless thing." "The gardener breaks off leaves (to offer to an idol), in the leaves, in the leaves—life, The stone, for the sake of which he breaks off the leaves, is lifeless."
May it not be desirable for the Christian missionary addressing a heathen audience, to arrest attention by an occasional apt quotation from the writings of Kabir the weaver?
