New Delhi: In Pandharpur, a Dalit poet-saint, Chokhamela, composed fiery devotional poetry in quiet defiance, barred from the very temple he revered. His life, marked by rejection and resistance, ultimately came to an end when he passed away near the temple, his body lying just outside its doors, unable to enter, yet forever intertwined with the sacred space he had longed to touch.
“Chokhamela must have felt anger, whenever there was oppression. Listening to Chokhamela, I felt Kabir must have heard him too,” said Anand, Indian author, anti-caste publisher and now a Dhrupad singer.
The launch of Anand’s latest book The Notbook of Kabir: Thinner than Water, Fiercer than Fire at the India Habitat Centre unfolded an exploration of music, spirituality, and anti-caste resistance. The author’s tanpura performance took centre stage. Through different Bhakti-era poets’ verses, Anand rediscovered music as an act of rebellion, intertwining the legacies of BR Ambedkar, Kabir, and Chokhamela. The event was followed by a discussion with Dhrupad singer and Anand’s guru F Wasifuddin Dagar, and food historian Pushpesh Pant.
In his book, Anand talks about how Kabir, the 15th-century poet-saint, transcended the boundaries of his time, caste, and region. His words, once confined to the mystic traditions of his era, have now become universal, resonating across cultures, languages, and generations.
Anand’s journey extended beyond the iconic poet-saint. He began to explore the broader Bhakti tradition-poets who, like Kabir, took anti-Sanskrit, anti-Vedic, and anti-Brahminical positions.
“Kabir is a portal, not an endpoint. He opens the door to an entire anti-caste Bhakti movement. Through him, I found other poets—Chokhamela, Gorakhnath, Namdev—who sang from the margins, offering truths too bitter for the caste elites,” he writes in his book.
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Journey through music
Anand sat cross-legged, his Tanpura resting on his legs, the soft hum of the strings filling the room, creating an intimate, resonating atmosphere. He opened with his own lyric, “Na Om na Greem bas Jai Bhim (Neither Om nor Greem [a Sanskrit seed mantra often linked to Tantric or esoteric practices] only Jai Bhim).”
Ambedkar led Anand to Kabir, and soon Kabir’s presence was everywhere—in the people around him, within Anand himself, and in the world at large.
His relationship with music had been marked by rupture and rediscovery. Trained in Carnatic music for seven years, he walked away from it in 1999, disillusioned by its rigid Brahminical framework. For over a decade, he dedicated himself to his publishing company, Navayana, which embraces Ambedkar’s ideas and vision while thoughtfully engaging with his critical limitations. He stayed away from music, and then, in 2013, a friend reintroduced him to Kabir, and something shifted.
“Kabir became my brother, my companion,” he writes in his book. “His songs weren’t just melodies, they were lessons. It felt as though Kabir was whispering corrections to me as I sang.”
Anand holds the legacies of two figures close to his heart: Ambedkar and Baba Behram Khan, a pioneering Dhrupad maestro, scholar, and pedagogue known for shaping the Dagar tradition. To Anand, Baba Behram Khan is the ‘Babasaheb of music’. Khan created Sadharani Geeti, a simple and accessible style of teaching music. A contemporary of Mirza Ghalib and Jyotirao Phule, Khan democratised music, mastering both its theory and practice, despite coming from a traditional musician family. To honour the gurus, Anand sang verses by Gorakhnath, an 11th-century Nath yogi whose poetry boldly rejected ritualistic and empty religious practices. The translation is as follows.
I wouldn’t go with anyone;
It has to be the spotless one.
Colourless, spotless, nothing less,
Nothing less than nothingness
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The voice of Chokhamela
Kabir’s influence is omnipresent, his verses show up in textbooks, memes, and parodies, reflecting how his words have evolved beyond their original form. Kabir’s followers span across India and the world, and his poems, in dialects like Bhojpuri and Awadhi, continue to resonate with people seeking unity and devotion. Among the youth, Kabir has achieved a cult-like status. The Kabir Festival in Mumbai, dedicated to spreading his message, is one example of how his legacy is being celebrated today.
Anand raised questions in his book about what Kabir would be like in today’s world. Would he sing at literary festivals for a well-heeled audience, or upload his jams to Instagram hoping to be discovered? Would he be lynched over misunderstandings, or weave and sing to the rhythm of his loom, indifferent to who listened? Perhaps Kabir, timeless as ever, would challenge the world by simply being himself.
“What kind of poetry did Kabir immerse himself in? What music filled his world?” Anand asked during his performance.
In Kabir’s time, his verses weren’t locked in books or confined to performances, they lingered in the air, in hearts, and on tongues for days. Unlike the rigid timelines and boxed recordings of today, Kabir’s voice was timeless, fluid, and unbound.
In the performance, Anand mentioned that Kabir, in his travels, had reached Pandharpur, the spiritual hub of the Marathi Abhang tradition (Marathi devotional poetry or song that praises the Hindu god Vitthala), where he could have crossed paths, at least in spirit, with Chokhamela, the 13th or 14th-century saint from Maharashtra.
“Chokhamela was a labourer, an untouchable, and an ideal Harijan bhakt (as Gandhi had called him). He was from the same caste as BR Ambedkar,” Anand said.
Despite his devotion, caste barriers loomed large over Chokhamela’s life. Inspired by Sant Namdev’s kirtans, Chokhamela moved with his wife to Pandharpur, home to the revered Vithoba temple. But he was barred from entering or even standing near the temple’s door. In the act of quiet resistance, he built a small hut across the Chandrabhaga River, where he lived, prayed, and composed his fiery Abhangs.
Chokhamela’s verses were searing critiques of the very structures that upheld the caste system. Anand sang one of his Abhangs, translated below.
The Vedas are tainted, Shastra tainted,
Puranas are tainted, so tainted.
The self is a taint, the spirit tainted…
The room pulsed with the weight of history and the audience lost themselves in the music with their eyes closed.
Anand described the book as a collection of poems, and the reason it’s called the Notbook is that it doesn’t aim to present the authentic Kabir. He wondered whether Kabir created the ragas or borrowed them from folk traditions. Anand remarked that all ragas carry a folk element, as folk music inherently belongs to the people. In his view, Kabir’s message encourages us to live independently and to take charge of our own lives and actions. “Paanchon indriya vasme karo, aapno aap kabir (Control all five senses, and you will become Kabir yourself).”
“All that I’ve found of Kabir, all that I’ve written in my notebook—it’s stolen. It belongs to the artists before me, to the many voices that brought Kabir to life,” Anand said.
(Edited by Theres Sudeep)