Inflected Kathas Sufis and Krishna Bhakt
Inflected Kathas Sufis and Krishna Bhakt
Inflected Kathas Sufis and Krishna Bhakt
Francesca Orsini
Once [Hazrat Shah Abdur Razzaq] Bansawi arrived at the home of Chait
Ram and Paras Ram in Rampur village, 10 kilometers from Bansa. He
found the bhagatiyas dancing; one of them played the role of Krishna and
the other was dressed as a gopi. They sang Sant Kabir’s dohas. Moved by
their songs, the Hazrat fell into a trance. Meanwhile the singing reached
a high-pitch note. That is when the Hazrat, now under the spell of the
divine, opened his eyes. The audience—Hindu and Muslim zamindars,
bairagis and faqirs—were moved to tears. All those present, rich and
poor, were spellbound.1
Tulsidas, who famously accused sants of wishing to “create discourses with sakhi,
sabadi and dohra; the Bhagats of the Kali age explain Bhagati and pillow the
Vedas and Puranas.” Tulsidas, Tulasī Granthāvalī, Dohāvalī, ed. Ram Chandra
Shukla (Varanasi: Nagari Pracarini Sabha, 1973–1977), II, 554.
4 I would like to thank Vasudha Dalmia for help with this formulation, as
well as her and Munis Faruqui for their more general comments on this essay.
5 See, for example, Father della Tomba’s remark in the late eighteenth century
that Kabir panthis studied Tulsidas’s Ramcharitmanas. Quoted in Purushottam
Agrawal, Akath Kahānī Prem kī: Kabīr kī Kavitā aur unkā Samay (New Delhi:
Rajkamal Prakashan, 2009), 143. Also the north Indian Muslim qasbati children
in Intizar Hussain’s narratives who are exposed to different creation stories from
their grandparents and from itinerant storytellers; for example, Intizar Husain,
Basti, trans. Frances W. Pritchett (New Delhi: Indus, 1995).
6 According to the Nijvārtā-gharuvārtā, Vallabha and Vitthalnath traveled
all over north India during their various tours. Quoted in Hariharnath Tandon,
Vārtā-sāhitya: Ek B�hat Adhyayan (Aligarh: Bharat Prakashan Mandir, n.d.), 603.
In drawing an extensive pilgrimage map, hagiographical texts like the Caurāsī
Bai�hak extend the Vallabhan geography of influence over religious sites con-
nected to Ram in this area (e.g., Chitrakut, Ayodhya, Naimisharanya, Hanuman
Ghat, Janakpur, etc.). Gokulnatha, Chaurasi Baithak: Eighty-four Seats of Shri
Vallabhacharya, ed. Vrajesh Kumar, trans. Shyam Das, vol. 10 of Śrī Vallabha
Studies Series (Delhi: Butala Publications, 1985), 39–45.
7 Malik Muhammad Jayasi, whose pem katha (Awadhi Sufi romance)
2012), and Ramya Sreenivasan, The Many Lives of a Rajput Queen: Heroic Pasts
in India c. 1500–1900 (New Delhi: Permanent Black, 2007); for the subsequent
fortune of his Padmāvat, see Sreenivasan, The Many Lives of a Rajput Queen,
and Shantanu Phukan, “Through a Persian Prism: Hindi and Padmāvat in the
Mughal Imagination” (University of Chicago PhD thesis, 2000), 158, 160, who
suggests that he interacted with the neighboring Raja of Amethi.
8 After his trip from Jagadishvara; this is when the svarupa of Sri Dwarkanath
also came to Arail and stayed with Damodardas Sambhalvale. Dindayalu Gupta,
A��achāp aur Vallabh-sampradāy (Prayag: Hindi Sahitya Sammelan, 1970), I,
222n.
9 Richard Barz, The Bhakti Sect of Vallabhacharya (Faridabad: Thomson
10 See my “‘Krishna is the Truth of Man’: Mir ‘Abdul Wahid Bilgrami’s
Haqā’iq-i Hindī (Indian Truths) and the Circulation of Dhrupad and Bishnupad,”
in Culture and Circulation, ed. Allison Busch and Thomas de Bruijn (Leiden:
Brill, forthcoming). Muzaffar Alam has already considered the text within a
paradigm of “assimilation from a distance” in which the Sufis of Awadh worked,
out of their belief in the (inclusive) doctrine of wahdat al-wujud, but also out of
political necessity in the face of continued threats and attacks from local Rajput
zamindars. In Haqā’iq-i Hindī, according to Alam, Bilgrami “sought to recon-
cile Vaisnav symbols as well as the terms and ideas used in Hindu devotional
songs with orthodox Muslim beliefs” within the “syncretistic religious milieu”
of Awadh qasbas. Alam, “Assimilation from a Distance,” 174, emphasis added.
11 Gokulnatha, Eighty-four Vaishnavas, trans. Shyam Das (Delhi: Butala
12 For the date, see Theodore Pavie, Krichna et sa doctrine (Paris: B. Duprat,
1852), 3; Lalachdas, Haricarit (Lālacdās k�t Avadhī-kāvya), ed. Nalinimohan
Sharma (Patna: Bihar Rashtrabhasha Parishad, 1963) (only the first twenty-
three chapters, on the basis of five mss). It was partly translated into French by
Pavie (Krichna et sa doctrine). According to R.S. McGregor, it was well known
in the eighteenth century. Hindi Literature from the Beginnings to the Nineteenth
Century, vol. 8, fasc. 6 of History of Indian Literature, ed. Jan Gonda (Wiesbaden:
Harrassowitz, 1984), 96n. Lalach is also credited with a Vi��upurā�a (Vi. 1585);
see “Avadhī mẽ K���akāvya ke Pra�etā: Kavi Lālacdās,” Hindī Anuśīlan 14, no.
3: 18, quoted in Murari Lal Sharma “Suras,” Avadhī K���a Kāvya aur unke Kavi
(Agra: Ranjan Prakashan, 1967), 40n.
13 Elsewhere, as we shall see, he mentions the fact that he “read and heard”
the story (pa�heū̃ suneū̃) the story. This might well be an interpolation, since it is
not present in the Berlin manuscript and is a very common devotional locution,
as Imre Bangha has suggested. Personal communication, June 2009.
14 A later adaptation, Ramdas Nema’s Haricharitra (from Malwa, dated
What was the performance like? How much of Jayasi’s version echoes
theirs? Impossible to know.
15 Notably with Jayadeva in Orissa and Vidyapati in Mithila. For Krishna
bhakti in Gujarat from the twelfth century onward, see Françoise Mallison,
“Development of Early Krishnaism in Gujarāt: Vi��u, Ra�cho�, K���a,” in
Bhakti in Current Research, 1979–1982, ed. Monika Thiel-Horstmann (Berlin:
Dietrich Reimer Verlag, 1983) and Françoise Mallison, “Early K���a Bhakti in
Gujarat: The Evidence of Old Gujarati Texts Recently Brought to Light,” in
Studies in South Asian Devotional Literature, ed. Alan W. Entwistle and Françoise
Mallison (New Delhi: Manohar, 1994); also Sheikh, Forging a Region,132ff.
16 Jayasi, Kanhāvat (14.1–3), 140; Heidi Pauwels has noted that the word
is spelt āhira/āhara, i.e. “day” (and not ahīra), but given the “Ahir touch,” see
below, and the need for a subject in the sentence, I would still go for Ahirs.
Pauwels, “When a Sufi tells about Krishna’s Doom: The Case of Kanhāvat
(1540?),” The Journal of Hindu Studies 6 (2013): 35; Gupta, A��achāp aur
Vallabh-sampradāy, I, 140. References from the Kanhāvat in brackets, here and
below, are to the stanza and verse numbers in Parameshvari Lal Gupta’s printed
edition (Varanasi: Annapurna Prakashan, 1981); occasional reference is made
to Shiv Sahay Pathak’s edition (Allahabad: Sahitya Bhavan, 1981). The only
available manuscript at present, the MS OR 29 of Sprenger’s collection held at
the Staatsbibliothek in Berlin, is incomplete in the beginning and its folios have
clearly been mixed up after stanza 96. I have followed Gupta’s reconstruction
since it seems to correspond more to the order of the story, unless otherwise
specified.
17 Ishvardas, Īśvardās k�t Satyāvatī Kathā tathā anya K�itiyā̃, ed. Shivgopal
Kathā; see Bhīma Kavi k�t Da�gvai Kathā, ed. Shivgopal Misra (Allahabad:
Hindi Sahitya Sammelan, 1966), which has the line “by reading and listening
to it your sins will be removed” (pa�he gune te pātakhu jāī (2.4)). Although
fitting a broad epic-Puranic genre and featuring Krishna as a “ba�a sultana,” it
nonetheless calls itself a K���a caritra. Bhima Kavi, Da�gvai Kathā, 82, 2 doha.
the oldest manuscript of the Kanhāvat and glosses the text as a devo-
tional katha:
Eternal is Hari and eternal Hari’s story!
The Vedas, Bhāgavata, and the sants all sing it.
The Vi��u, Padma, Śiva, and Agni Purā�as,
The [Mahā]bhārata and the Hariva�śa all tell his tale.
I heard and read the Bhāgavata Purā�a,
I acquired the sandhāna of the path of love [pem pantha].
Yoga, bhoga, tapa, and ś��gāra,
dharma, karma, sata—all combined.
…
I remember the feet of Ved Vyasa,
Who told the story of Hari a thousand times.
Kanha’s katha is as numerous
As the stars and asterisms in the sky.
There is no other love story like it in the whole world,
I have seen and checked in Turki, Arabic, and Farsi.19
Krishna is an avatara of Vishnu, that he can show his cosmic form to the
gopis, etc. In other words, Jayasi does not disturb the overt theology of
Krishna or the basic elements of his story. Yet, in his precise choice and
use of terms, in the arrangement and coding of the story, and in skillfully
directing the listener to what are for him the key moments, Jayasi also
conveys a particular reading of the Krishna story as a Sufi tale, a kind of
hidden, or batin, counterpart to the visible, or zahir, well-known story
of Krishna. In making both readings and identifications possible at the
same time, isn’t Jayasi in effect offering the katha as a spiritual experi-
ence “for all”—not by transcending religion as Kabir did, but in a way
that worked for several religious strands at the same time?21 While we
must posit the possibility that members of the audience responded and
were moved and transported into a spiritual experience by listening to a
discourse, a song, a poem, or a tale, and construed its religious message
in tune with their own sensibility and beliefs—as in Bansawi’s example
quoted at the beginning—with Jayasi’s Kanhāvat we have an author
consciously mobilizing multiple religious audiences.
Finally, it is useful to think of kathas as a religious pastime because
of the obvious “entertainment value” of certain scenes, like the fights
between wrestlers, the colorful language Radha and Chandravali
exchange during their quarrel, and the playful banter between Krishna
and the gopis. To this must be added the pleasure of intertextuality, with
especially Sufi romance authors keen to evoke other heroes and other
stories.22 In the Kanhāvat Krishna and Radha quote Rama and Sita at
various stages with an eye to a good laugh. When the “supreme God”
(paramesura), angered at Kamsa’s pride, decides to “create” Vishnu in
order to punish him, Vishnu initially pleads not to be sent back into
the world:
21 As Aditya Behl put it in his last public lecture at the School of Oriental
and African Studies in November 2008, “I would like to propose that, in larger
cultural historical terms, we adopt what it seems to me obvious that the cultural
forms of the period indicate: that the historical agents who put these forms
together thought in at least a ‘both and’ way. That is to say, they produced forms
that signified in various ways, both Indic and Islamic and much more besides.”
Aditya Behl, “Love’s Subtle Magic.”
22 See, e.g., Thomas de Bruijn, “Dialogism in a Medieval Genre: The Case
of the Avadhi Epics,” in Before the Divide: Hindi and Urdu Literary Culture, ed.
Francesca Orsini (New Delhi: Orient Black Swan, 2010).
I suffered a lot as Rama’s avatara, now I won’t descend into the world.
I spent that life in austerities, I knew but one wife, Sita,
And Ravana kidnapped her—never did the earth know such pain.23
But the supreme God reassures him that this time he will have a life
of enjoyment (rasa bhoga), with 16,000 gopitas created expressly for that
purpose, and all enemies will be disposed of speedily.24 While rasa bhoga
is the central concept of the poem, in this circumstance its humorous
effect is undeniable.25
In the rest of the essay I will first compare our three available Harikathas
from this period—Nanddas’s incomplete translation of the Dasam
Skandha, Haricarit’s also incomplete version, and Jayasi’s version—in terms
of religious inflection. I will then concentrate on Jayasi’s Kanhāvat and its
reworking of the Krishna story and use of coded religious vocabulary in a
way that resonates for both Krishna devotees and Sufi practitioners.
openings
In her work on the printing of Punjabi qissas, which also circulated
in a mixed religious milieu, Farina Mir has noted how often it is the
opening section, with its invocations, that reveals the religious inflec-
tion of a particular version of the story. This is a useful insight to bring
to our Harikathas.26 We may start by comparing the opening of Lalach’s
Haricharit with the Dasam Skandha (ca. 1570) by the Vallabhan poet
Nanddas. Nanddas has a “friend” ask him to explain the Bhāgavata
need to become bhaktas, they are already ones: “Parikshit is counted among the
excellent listeners [uttama śrotā], drenched through with rasa. He forgets food
and shelter, his only support is listening to the praises of Hari. In the same way,
Shuka became an excellent expounder [baktā], drenched in the highest rasa of
love.” Nanddas, Daśam Skandha, 218.
30 Lalachdas, Haricharit (Invocation, stanzas I–II), 13–14.
31 Lalachdas, Haricharit (Invocation, I.7),12.
32 Lalachdas, Haricharit (Invocation, I.8),12.
33 Lalachdas, Haricharit (Invocation, III), 14–15. He also asks Sarasvati’s
grace to “ākhara pāvo” in order to sing Hari’s praises, although he lacks intel-
ligence. Lalachdas, Haricharit (ch. 1, II.6), 13.
34 Brahma was born from his navel. Hari showed himself in the form of a
ha�sa (goose) and explained the four Vedas to Brahma. Lalachdas, Haricharit
(Invocation, IV) 15–16.
35 Lalachdas, Haricharit (Invocation, IV), 15–16.
As for the rest of the story, Lalach’s Haricharit follows quite closely the
Bhāgavata Purā�a, and the narrative moves swiftly, as in other kathas
from this period. Only, instead of theological asides, Lalach inserts more
direct intimations to pursue bhakti: those who forget the Lord have
squandered their human birth like dogs36 and there is a whole stanza
inveighing against pakha��a dharma (“hypocritical dharma”).37 Lalach
often uses dohas as refrain, where he uses stock expressions of thanks and
invocations and praises for his Lord—in other words general expressions
that are not specific to any tradition:
Doha: Alakha, agocara t�ākura, so bica Gokula āva
Braja kula santa sa�ga raha, Jana Lālac guna gāva.
The invisible and imperceptible Lord came into Gokula,
With the people of Braja and the sants Lalach the servant sang his praises.
Variant second line:
Nagara loga saba harakhīta…
With all the townspeople happily…38
de Bruijn, The Ruby in the Dust; and de Bruijn, “Dialogism in a Medieval Genre.”
who features also in the story—praises him with all his tongues, this is
still not praise enough. Thus, even in the hamd Jayasi introduces figures
familiar from Puranic lore.
Next, Jayasi introduces a reference to what will become a recurrent fea-
ture of Indo-Persian historical writing (from Firishta onward)—that is, the
history of India of pre-Islamic times; in this case Jais, “a dharma asthānu
since the time of the Satya Yuga,” an abode of rishis during the Treta, who
abandoned it in the Kaliyuga, when it was resettled by “Turkan.”40 We
may notice how Jayasi does not mention conquest but resettlement. He
also directly affiliates his town with Puranic history and geography, using
an idiom that everyone around him would have understood:
Kahaũ nagara bara āpuna �hāū,̃ sadā sohāvā Jāyasa nāū.̃
Satajuga hutau dharama asthānū,̃ tahiyā kahata nagara udiyānū.̃
Puni tretā gaeu, dvāpara [mukhī], Bhū̃jā rāja mahā rikhi rikhī̃.
Rahata rikhīsura sahasa a�hāsī, ghanai [ghan�a?] pokhara caurāsī.
Bā̃dhā ghā�a ī̃�a ga�hi lāe, au caurāsī kuvā̃ banāe.
Bica-bica bā̃dhe bhī̃�a sohāī̃, nisi bhae gãgana janahu tarāī̃.
Ṭhāū-̃ �hāū̃ para bana bahu bārī, tehi ūpara saba marhī sãvārī.
Doha: Bait�i tapā tapa sādhe, sabai purukha autāra,
Homa jāpa japa nisi-dina, karahī jagata asa pāra.
I’ll tell you about my great town, the ever-beautiful Jais.
In the satyayuga it was a holy place, then it was called the “Town of
Gardens.”
Then the treta went, and when the dvapara came, there was a great rishi
called Bhunjaraja.
88,000 rishis lived here then, and dense … and eighty-four ponds.
They baked bricks to make solid ghats, and dug eight-four wells.
Here and there they built handsome forts, at night they looked like stars
in the sky.
They also put up several orchards,41 with temples on top.
Doha: They sat there doing tapas, all those human avataras.
They crossed this world doing homa and japa day and night.42
40 I prefer Pathak’s reading here (Gupta reads ba�a āpuna as Bid[rā] ban �hāū)̃
since this is clearly about Jais; Jayasi, Kanhāvat, ed. Pathak (stanzas 7–8), 6–7.
41 The meaning of bārī is unclear here.
42 Jayasi, Kanhāvat, ed. Pathak (8), 7–8.
Puranas, or read out and explain from a book (kitab, possibly the Quran).
Attendants sing songs and play music full of rasa. There is a sense that the
full talent of Malik Muhammad is not appreciated here, although it could
refer to the spiritual knowledge (marama) he can infuse in his poetry:
Tahā̃ kabi Malik Muhammad, marama na janai koi,
Lahai so lākh karoran, jo koi gāhak hoi.
There the poet Malik Muhammad, no one knows his secret,
If someone becomes a customer, he will earn hundreds of thousands.46
The description of Mathura is not only longer, but also seems to sug-
gest the pattern by which towns were settled. First the fort is built47 and
then a moat, after which the town is given a name. Then the king builds
his palace, with a harem of ranis from other regions (the “seven climes”),
and several courtyards (akharas) containing houses.48 Then a city grows
around the fort, with walled gardens and pavilions and tall dwellings for
the rich and the poor. This is when the populace begins to grow. Public
seating is arranged for people to sit and play games. Kings and chiefs
from neighboring areas also come to the rajasabha. Good roads and water
supply encourage traders to settle—possibly attracted by the wealth of
these chiefs/soldiers or their ability to trade over long distances.49 Once
this healthy trade is established, sadhus and wrestlers wander into the
city. Various kinds of actors and mime artistes also perform while pandits
sit and expound the shastras (bhā��, na�, na�inī nācahῖ, pa��it bai�hi
sāstar bācahῖ).50 People sing, tell stories, it is a good way to pass the time.
People from the fort relax and are happy to give a handsome reward:
Gīta nāda rasa kathā, bhala hoi bisarām,
Ga�ha kai log bhaeu sukhī, dān dehῖ bhala dām.51
The king offers Nanda some betel nuts and makes him “sit before
him” (āgẽ baisāvā) in a ritualized mutual recognition of loyalty. But isn’t
the performance also an occasion to recruit military manpower from
among the Ahirs? This is suggested by Kamsa’s words as he lures Nanda
into bringing young Krishna to show off his fighting prowess against the
court wrestlers (malla):
I also want to see how he fights, and I will send him a robe of honor
(pahirāī pa�hāvõ)
To all the cow herders (govār) who come, I will give twice as much (bisāī
bisāha)54
To you I will give a Tukhara horse and will make you a cavalryman (kar-
ihõ asavāra)55
52 Bhāgavata Purā�a,XXXIX.11–12.
53 Jayasi, Kanhāvat (164 doha), 224.
54 This line is unclear: bisār is grain given on credit, for which 1/4 more is
taken back.
55 Jayasi, Kanhāvat (165.5–7), 225.
In the event, it is the Ahirs who easily overpower the royal wrestlers in
a lively “action scene,” and King Kamsa has to take refuge inside his fort.
The point of marking out this inflection is to suggest an Ahir/“Bundela”
martial tinge to Krishna bhakti in Awadh and Bundelkhand, and pos-
sibly an audience for Jayasi’s story. (Among Bundelas, the rajas were
usually Krishna devotees, while the ranis were devoted to Rama.)
56 For a list of translations and retellings of the Padmāvat, see de Bruijn, The
Ruby in the Dust.
57 Similar features include: Krishna’s birth and the swapping with Yashoda’s
about a saint, his wife, and a derwish across the river told by the Sufi master
Nizam al-Din Awliya; cited in Behl, Love’s Subtle Magic, 9.
him how he got so dirty, he replies enigmatically: “The one who is unblemished
and untarred, who created the world and played all the games (khela saba khelā),
and who descended without blemish, acquired a blemish and his light dimmed”
by descending into the nether world. Jayasi, Kanhāvat (86.2), 179.
66 Jayasi, Kanhāvat (97), 185.
67 Jayasi, Kanhāvat (130), 206–07.
68 Jayasi, Kanhāvat (208), 246.
Krishna is often described in his beautiful form (rupa anupa), and yet
he is also a bahurupiya who can take on many forms. When he enters
Mathura to challenge Kamsa, everyone sees him in his own image:
offering to the ancestors); here it could mean the shadow inside a solid round
object.
73 Jayasi, Kanhāvat (142.1–4, 6–7), 212.
Krishna disguised himself (bhesa apuna kīnhā) so that each saw him ac-
cording to his own hue (barana).
A king saw him as a king, a young man as a marvelous young man,
Daityas saw him as a daitya, and Kamsa saw in him his death.
Khatri (Kshatriya) heroes said: “He’s a hero,” Ahirs said: “He’s an Ahir,”
Yogis said: “He’s is a yogi,” and Brahmins said: “He is a jyotikhi.”
Doha: He appeared so clearly (darasana nirmala) as if in a special mirror;
Each saw his own face, Kanha [agara nirekha?]74
And again:
There is no one apart from the one, and the whole world is its shadow.
Wherever you look, it is all the artwork of gosāīn.77
He created the game as he wanted, and filled fourteen worlds.
There is colour, light and form in all of them, like the sun that shines
over/pervades everything.
See the art of parga�a guputa, visible and hidden: he is in everything,
everything is within him.
He dictates where every eye turns, no mouth can speak without him;
Just like life is inside the body, so he pervades the whole world.78
Durvasa, who here seems to stand for the enlightened seeker, has
understood this secret, which is why he sees through and accepts
Krishna’s “lie” and replies with a similar statement: he has eaten the food
that was brought to him, but since there is no duality, who has eaten
what?79 Thus, not only immanence but even the doctrine of avatara
can be made to carry a Sufi connotation as God’s creation of the vis-
ible world. The Vaishnava doctrine according to which Krishna is the
only man and everyone else is a woman can similarly be reformulated
in terms of God inhabiting all his creatures (“Sixteen thousand women,
and one man in all of them”).80
Shah’s Hir,” in The Indian Narrative, ed. Christopher Shackle and Rupert Snell
(Wiesbaden: Otto Harrassowitz, 1992); Jeevan S. Deol, “Love and Mysticism in
the Punjabi Qissas of the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries” (MPhil diss.,
School of Oriental and African Studies, University of London, 1996) for Sufi
qissas in Punjabi; and of course Aditya Behl’s work on Awadhi romances.
you are my guru and I am your chela, if you say so I will get the game (khela)
I have played. I will follow any path you set me, which will get me the happy
darasana I ask for.” Jayasi, Kanhāvat (203.4, 6–7),244.
86 Jayasi, Kanhāvat (196.3–7, doha), 240:
Nothing pleased him, everything saddened him: how can hope rise in a
desperate man?
His body seethed, his heart scorched, nobody can spell out such pain.
Love cannot be revealed [not sure]; once it’s revealed, it kills you.
Love revealed is a risky business: it’s a player playing with his head.
Love’s path is narrow and hard, one may be spared, the other is struck.
Its branding mark is hidden, not even the smoke shows.
The heart/mind (man) suffers and refines itself, nobody knows its secret.
87 Jayasi, Kanhāvat (211 doha), 248.
people in the Quran?): “You who are called a bahurupai, like sun and
shade. Show yourself to me quickly in many new forms.”93 Krishna
immediately shows his child and cosmic forms.94 Radha then goes
home pledging to return; her slow self-adorning in a long nakha shikha
marks the awakening of desire and of the “game of love,” with flowers,
fruit, scents, and colors acting as code words for the forthcoming love
union and arousing the senses of the listeners. As Aditya Behl put it,
“The sarapa captures the moment of the arousal of desire (shauq) …
and introduces the multiple resonances of longing and love: the rela-
tion between God and created beings, lover and beloved, and reader
and text.”95 Music here acts as that which bewitches and makes one
forget the world: whether it is the musical instruments that accompany
Radha’s shringara and that make the whole world and the earth forget
themselves,96 or the “ragas of bairaga” that Krishna plays on his flute
while waiting for Chandravali, himself lost to the world97 and of course
bewitching everyone who hears him.
The love union with Radha is presented as a wedding, albeit a forest
wedding, with all the gods, rishis, and the sun and the moon rejoicing.
Brahma recites the Vedas, Shiva spreads the mandapa, and Parvati sings
the wedding songs98—a scene found in other kathas of the time.99 Their
union is like the long-awaited meeting of the chataka bird at the svati
asterism familiar from the poetic tradition, and the emphasis is on “new
love, new wife, new husband.”100 We noted above the hidden meaning
of this union as of the other erotic moments with the other heroines.
That Radha and Chandravali and even Kubja are equivalent with
respect to Krishna is hinted at through repeated references to Krishna
as the sun and the heroines as the moon: Radha is the moon and the
gopis are the stars; Chandravali of course is the moon and her beauty
93
Jayasi, Kanhāvat (103 doha), 188.
94
Jayasi, Kanhāvat (104), 189.
95 Behl, “On Reintegration,” the fourth lecture of Behl, “Love’s Subtle
Magic.”
96 Jayasi, Kanhāvat (129), 205.
97 Jayasi, Kanhāvat (211), 247–48.
98 Jayasi, Kanhāvat (145), 213–14.
99 E.g., Isvardas’s 1501 Satyāvatī kathā.
100 Jayasi, Kanhāvat (147), 214–15.
“shines by night and hides during the day,”101 and after her transforma-
tion even Kubja is “four times more beautiful and unblemished than
the moon.”102 However, metaphors of light abound more explicitly
in the Chandravali episode, making her a more overt representative of
the divine light that the seeker must turn to after being awakened to
human love. It is perhaps for this reason that Krishna seeks Chandravali
and is trapped by her in a way that he was not by Radha.103 Krishna’s
union with Chandravali is like the conjunction of the sun with the
moon (although Krishna playfully replies to a jealous Radha that this
is indeed not possible: how can he and Chandravali dally when the sun
and the moon can never be together?). Their erotic union is described
once again as “bhoga bhagati,” but Chandravali, who has learnt from the
“pandits reading the Vedas and what is written in Puranas,”104 reminds
Krishna to go and fight Kamsa and asks him to show his royal form to
her. The character of Chandravali is more developed in Gaudiya
Krishna bhakti, where she is not just one of the sakhis but Radha’s
chief rival.105 This rivalry is replayed here as the rivalry between the
two wives, or rather the wife and the lover (although Radha addresses
Chandravali derogatorily as savati, her co-wife,106 while Chandravali
scoffs haughtily at her for her rusticity). When both women and their
16,000 companions are on their way to offer puja to Mahendra and
they start exchanging insults, Chandravali, resplendent in her beauti-
ful shringara, asks Mahendra to have Krishna all for herself,107 while
Radha appears with wasted body and unkempt hair, like a virahini, and
pleads with Mahendra to free her from the co-wife; she briefly speaks in
Sita’s voice, underscoring her virtue as a sati.108 After their verbal and
wounding bow, and the heroine as a hunter, well familiar in Persian (and later
Urdu) love poetry. Jayasi, Kanhāvat (213–35), 248–59.
104 Jayasi, Kanhāvat (228.2), 255.
105 See, for example, Rupa Gosvami’s Sanskrit play Vidagdhamādhava.
hysical fight, Krishna not only separates the women but also teaches
p
both that he is with each at the same time.
As for the episode with Kubja, its place within the overall structure
of the poem is to provide a counterpart of bhoga (in Madhubana) to the
gopis’ biyoga in Gokul.109 The bhoga with her, encapsulated in a “six-
season” set piece, contains all the accompanying elements that we have
found before—flowers, scents, fruit, and colorful clothes; if anything
now they are all concentrated in the same person, and the final season
leads to the communal enjoyment (bhoga vilasa) of dance and color
at Holi, when “the heart’s desire was fulfilled for all six seasons and
twelve months.”110 Earlier Krishna had told Chandravali that he was a
bhogi of “all the six rasas,” and the “six seasons” seem to correspond to
that fullness. And while in the other Sufi romances the juxtaposition
between bhoga and viyoga/viraha is represented by the contrast between
the second heroine’s “six seasons” and the plaintive “twelve months” of
the first wife, here both Radha and Chandravali pine together with the
other gopis in the barahmasa that follows upon Krishna’s love play with
Kubja.111 With another interesting twist, the gopis are not left behind
in Mathura to fulfill their bhakti of biraha but are brought along to
enjoy rasa bhoga with Krishna, when they are further enlightened in the
Durvasa episode mentioned above.
The meaning of bhoga is thus explained several times in the course
of the story through Krishna’s various encounters and exchanges with
Radha, Chandravali, and the other gopis. What the path of bhoga
means in relation to other paths is explained at the end, through the
encounter between Krishna and Gorakhnath. Gorakhnath (also called
Matsyendranath in the text) appears in Mathura with an impressive
retinue (ka�aka) of yogis because the fame of Krishna bhakti has spread
through the whole world and he has heard of Krishna as a famous and
the “six seasons” and “twelve months” in Sufi romances, see chapter 8 of Aditya
Behl’s Love Subtle Magic (“The Seasons of Madhumālatī’s Separation,” 264–85),
where he points out that the first wife’s call for the hero to return is a signal to
the Sufi seeker that the inner spiritual quest is necessary, but also a reintegration
with the material world.
briefly (e.g., Jayasi, Kanhāvat, (133, 300), 208, 290), possibly because he is
the gopis’ teacher, as well as Arjuna—and his brother Balarama is called
Balabhadra—during the final fight with Kamsa (for example, Jayasi, Kanhāvat
(291), 286).
***
Sufi tale, Manjhan’s Madhumālatī (ca. 1545), Aditya Behl argued that
we should read the Sufi poets’ choice of idealized Indian locales and the
romantic quest of Indian heroines in terms of “appropriation” within the
context of the now “dominant” Islamic polities.120 More recently, Ramya
Sreenivasan has suggested that: “While the ethos of many regional courts
in North India during the Sultanate and Mughal periods may have been
broadly Islamicate, local networks for the circulation of such narratives were
by no means exclusively Muslim. In fact, such taxonomies of religious affili-
ation may not even be useful in considering the lay patrons and audiences
of such narratives.”121 This is true even of an explicitly religious story such
as Krishna’s.
First, as I have tried to show, if we take the local geography and
local networks seriously, we are minded to understand power less in
terms of sovereignty or domination (whether worldly or spiritual, the
sultan’s or the shaikh’s) and more, as Muzaffar Alam has suggested, in
terms of accommodation between local groups. In order to understand
the Kanhāvat we need first of all to place it within the local geography
of Krishna bhakti, in which it is one of many different actors—Kayastha
and Brahmin storytellers and poets, Ahir performers, sampradayas, and
Sufis.
Second, Sreenivasan highlights circulation as a stage in the literary
cycle that goes beyond the putative origin of a text as its locus of identity.
And while it is true that circulation always potentially exceeds the frame-
work and intentions of the producer, this is all the more true within a
multilingual and layered world like that of north India, whose exemplary
figure is that of the palimpsest. So while Aditya Behl was unsurpassed in
providing a Sufi reading of the Awadhi premakhyans, we remain aware
that this would have been only one reading because—and the Kanhāvat
itself is an example of this—circulation to a different audience meant
a new “interpretive community.” Neither only “Sufi” or “Krishnaite,”
the Kanhāvat plays multiple registers at the same time, and creates
something new in the process. Here attention to genre, audience, and
setting is crucial: for if both the Kahnāvat and ‘Abdul Wahid Bilgrami’s
Haqā’iq-i Hindī are Sufi takes on Krishna motifs, whereas the Haqā’iq-i
bibliography
Agrawal, Purushottam. Akath Kahānī Prem kī: Kabīr kī Kavitā aur unkā Samay.
New Delhi: Rajkamal Prakashan, 2009.
Alam, Muzaffar. “Assimilation from a Distance: Confrontation and Sufi
Accommodation in Awadh Society.” In Tradition, Dissent and Ideology:
Essays in Honour of Romila Thapar, edited by R. Champakalakshmi and
S. Gopal, 164–91. Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1996.
“Avadhī mẽ K���akāvya ke Pra�etā: Kavi Lālacdās,” Hindī Anuśīlan 14, no. 3.
Barz, Richard. The Bhakti Sect of Vallabhācārya. Faridabad: Thomson Press,
1976.
Behl, Aditya. “Rasa and Romance: The Madhumālatī of Shaikh Mañjhan
Shattari.” PhD diss., University of Chicago, 1995.
. “Love’s Subtle Magic: An Indian Islamic Literary Tradition.” Series
of four lectures delivered at the School of Oriental and African Studies,
London, November 14, 20, 21 and 28, 2008.
. Love’s Subtle Magic: An Indian Islamic Literary Tradition, 1379–1545.
Edited by Wendy Doniger. New York: Oxford University Press, 2012.
Bhima Kavi. Bhīma Kavi k�t Da�gvai Kathā. Edited by Shivgopal Misra.
Allahabad: Hindi Sahitya Sammelan, 1966.
De Bruijn, Thomas. “The Ruby in the Dust: The Poetics of Muhammad Jayasi’s
Padmavat.” PhD diss., University of Leiden, 1996.
. “Dialogism in a Medieval Genre: The Case of the Avadhi Epics.” In
Before the Divide: Hindi and Urdu Literary Culture, edited by Francesca
Orsini, 121–41. New Delhi: Orient BlackSwan, 2010.
. The Ruby in the Dust: Poetry and History of the Indian Padmavat by the
Sufi Poet Muhammad Jayasi. Leiden: Leiden University Press, 2012.
Deol, Jeevan S. “Love and Mysticism in the Punjabi Qissas of the Seventeenth
and Eighteenth centuries.” MPhil thesis, School of Oriental and African
Studies, University of London, 1996.
Dube, Uday Shankar. “Lālacdās k�t Haricarit Grantha kī ek Prācīn Prati.” Maru-
Bhāratī, private copy, 1967?
. “When a Sufi Tells about Krishna’s Doom: The Case of the Kanhāvat
(1540?).” The Journal of Hindu Studies 6 (2013): 21–36.
Pavie, Theodore, trans. Krichna et sa doctrine. Paris: B. Duprat, 1852.
Phukan, Shantanu. “Through a Persian Prism: Hindi and Padmāvat in the
Mughal Imagination.” University of Chicago PhD thesis, 2000.
Prasad, Kalika, Rajvallabha Sahay, and Mukundilal Srivastava, ed. B�had Hindī
Kośa. 6th revised edition. Varanasi: Prakashak Jnanmandal, 1989.
Shackle, Christopher S. “Transition and Transformation in Varis Shah’s Hir.”
In The Indian Narrative, edited by Christopher Shackle and Rupert Snell,
241–63. Wiesbaden: Otto Harrassowitz, 1992.
Sharma, Murari Lal “Suras.” Avadhī K���a Kāvya aur unke Kavi. Agra: Ranjan
Prakashan, 1967.
Sheikh, Samira. Forging a Region: Sultans, Traders, and Pilgrims in Gujarat,
1200–1500. New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2010.
Sreenivasan, Ramya. The Many Lives of a Rajput Queen: Heroic Pasts in India c.
1500–1900. New Delhi: Permanent Black, 2007.
Tandon, Hariharnath. Vārtā-sāhitya: Ek B�hat Adhyayan. Aligarh: Bharat
Prakashan Mandir, n.d.
Tulsidas. Tulasī Granthāvalī. 4 volumes. Edited by Ram Chandra Shukla.
Varanasi: Nagari Pracarini Sabha, 1973–1977.
Wulff, Donna M. Drama as a Mode of Religious Realization: The
Vidagdhamādhava of Rūpa Gosvāmi. Chico: Scholars Press, 1984.