Jejuri (1976) -Arun Kolatkar
Jejuri is a series of poems written in 1976 by Indian
poet Arun Kolatkar(1932-2004), an Indian poet who wrote in Marathi and English.
Kolatkar was born in Kolhapur, in the Western Indian state of Maharashtra, in
1932.
It is a collection of thirty-one poems and is the
first poetry book to win the Commonwealth Prize. Jejuri depicts
Kolatkar's visit to Jejuri, a city in Pune, which the poet visited in 1964. It was first published in Opinion Literary
Quarterly in 1974, and issued in book-form in 1976. Jejuri won the Commonwealth
Poetry Prize in 1977.
Manohar is the protagonist who makes a
trip along with his friend Makarand. The poem is made up
of a series of often short fragments which describe the experiences of a
secular visitor to the ruins of Jejuri, a pilgrimage site in Maharashtra. It is
one of the better-known poems in modern Indian literature.
Jejuri is a sequence of simple but stunningly
beautiful poems and is one of the major works in modern Indian literature. The
poems are remarkable for their haunting quality. However, modern critics have
analysed the difficulty of readers in interpreting the Jejuri poems in their
proper context. Kolatkar’s use of cross-cultural and trans-historical imagery
posits "Jejuri" within a macrocosmic, global framework which forces
the reader to adopt an interpretive position not determined by national or
cultural preconceptions
Critical Comment on Jejuri
The book and author are both still subjects of
widespread discussion. He wrote often in his native tongue of Marathi, but he
wrote Jejuri in English, a choice that may seem simple today. Over the past
three decades, this choice has had vast political and artistic interpretations.
The debates are too numerous and complex to describe here, but Kolatkar’s
writing has been cited and dissected for decades, while he remained
mischievously quiet on the subjects.
In the introduction to this new, beautiful edition,
novelist and critic Amit Chaudhuri compares the two diverging “lineages”
of Indian literature written in English. Salman
Rushdie seeded one line with Midnight’s Children, and Kolatkar founded the
other with Jejuri. Though Rushdie’s book was published five
years after Jejuri, people the world around know it well, while Kolatkar’s book
is still rather obscure. One reason is that Jejuri was not published outside of
India until 2003; to our detriment, not many people outside of India are
familiar with his work.
Kolatkar wrote Jejuri during the early years of newly
independent India, but the subject of the book is difficult to pinpoint. When I
read it, the narrative runs smoothly, simply, and concretely. Kolatkar takes me
on a journey and releases me at the end. Once I leave the book, all of the
discussion about Kolatkar’s life and artistic choices -- that is, writing in
English, intentionally printing his work in tiny batches -- pounces on me and
starts to confound. The only solution, sometimes, is to go back to page one and
start the journey all over again and re-enter a world that is at once mystical
and mundane.
Kolatkar is not ready to relinquish his
sharp powers of observation to the rounded edge of faith, and won’t let his
reader do so either. After you put down
Jejuri, you have to marvel that it was written in a language other than
Kolatkar’s mother tongue. Some critics
say his writing was facetious (“scratch a
rock/and a legend springs”), some
say transcendental (“No more a place of
worship this place/is nothing less than the house of god”), some
say political (“let’s see the color of your
money first”) and some say anti-theocratic (“A catgrin on its face/and a live, ready to eat
pilgrim/held between its teeth.”) I say that he took complex
concepts from his native Marathi tongue and wrote them simply in English, with
a style that would make a poet in any language envious
Excerpts and Commentary of
Jejuri poems:
Indian English Poetry is remarkable in the sense that
it gives us the perspectives of various cultural aspects of our country. It has
stood out both during pre-independence period as well as post-independence
period. Arun Kolatkar, a Marathi poet from Kolhapur has been a leading literary
voice of his generation. His poetry has now obtained the canonical status in
the Indian English poetry.
The selected poems of Arun Kolatkar are chosen from
his first poetry collection, entitled Jejuri. Jejuri is a place of pilgrimage
near Pune, Maharashtra. Jejuri is known for the temple of Lord Khandoba located
on a hill. Kandhoba, the local God of the temple especially worshipped by a
community called the Dhangar community. The Dhangars are associated with cattle
herding and fall under the economically backward classes. Khandoba is a
manifestation of Lord Shiva who is worshipped in Maharashtra. As the Maratha
community is associated with the fighters in the Kshtriya clan, Lord Khandoba
is the God of sword fighting. He is a warrior, riding a horse with a sword as
his weapon. The selected poems describe to us a journey to the temple of
Khandoba.
However, with a closer reading and analysis of the
poems we can see that Kolatkar is satirical about several elements of the
pilgrimage and religion. He throws light on those areas of our society where
religion has become a business. His poems also focus on people for whom
religion is the way to earn easy and fast money. Because of whom religion is
getting isolated to rich and poor is losing its chance to have at least a
single sight of the God. Kolatkar time and again brings the idea that “the
physical idol can be created, but God cannot be created.” Religion is more of a
business than a spiritual experience. The temple heads decide who will be
closer to God depending on the offerings made. This pilgrimage to Jejuri is a
prominent example of commercialization of religion.
Jejuri describes a day trip to the town of Jejuri, a
pilgrimage town in Maharashtra. Both devotion and commercialism populate the
town, and the man we follow doesn’t search for enlightenment; he’s sightseeing.
His straightforward voice colors most of the poems, though Kolatkar does hop
into the mind of the priest and the god at points. Though the traveler becomes
more enchanted with the town as the day goes on, he retains his sense of humor,
as in “Manohar”:
Manohar
The door was open.
Manohar thought
It was one more temple.
He looked inside
Wondering
Which god he was going to find.
He quickly turned away
When a wide eyed calf
Looked back at him.
It isn’t another temple,
He said,
It’s just a cowshed.
The traveler arrived with a secular itinerary, but as
he observes the bustle of the town and its contradictory trappings of mysticism
and urbanity, he allows the surroundings to present their many faces. Temples,
mongrels, beggars, even the hillside all start to swing between what they
appear to be and what they could mean. Though Kolatkar generally dismisses the
monumental -- his traveler takes more interest in a stray dog than the temple
that she inhabits -- his observations of the everyday show for the reader the
changeableness of the world’s objects, large or small. For example, he flips
the countryside upside down in "Hills":
Hills
hills
demons
sand blasted shoulders
bladed with shale
demons
hills
cactus thrust
up through ribs of rock
hills
demons
kneequartz
limestone loins
demons
hills
cactus fang
in sky meat
Kolatkar’s skillful metaphors and playful
imagery carry the reader on this irregular religious experience, but the author
won’t let you stay there. At the end of the book, we wearily follow the
traveler to the railway station, overwhelmed by the oceanic legends of Jejuri’s
gods. We have started to understand the devotional poses of the pilgrims we saw
in town, and even take some vows:
Slaughter a goat before the clock
Smash a coconut on the railway track
Smear the indicator with the blood of a
cock
Bathe the station master in milk
And promise you will give
A solid gold toy train to the booking
clerk
If only someone would tell you
When the next train is due
The concern of the poet is the issues of
commercialization of religion in our society. A pilgrimage to Jejuri is a local
Maharashtrian event which is very representative in nature. It may occur in any
part of the country. As a reader we can come to a conclusion that Kolatkar does
not believe in idol worship. He is against any kind of superstition and hence
we can see this collection of poetry as a satire on religion and the hypocrisy
in the temple. The voidness in the rituals and pretentious beliefs are targeted
through these poems. Although, the poet seems to believe in the concept of God
and the sanctity associated with it. He makes a note of his observations
throughout this journey. It is an indirect attack on the society and its
actions. He attacks the commercialization of religion and the superstitions.
The Bus
The tarpaulin flaps are buttoned down
on the windows of the state transport bus.
all the way up to jejuri.
a cold wind keeps whipping
and slapping a corner of tarpaulin at your
elbow.
you look down to the roaring road.
you search for the signs of daybreak in
what little light spills out of bus.
your own divided face in the pair of
glasses
on an oldman`s nose
is all the countryside you get to see.
you seem to move continually forward.
toward a destination
just beyond the castemark beyond his
eyebrows.
outside, the sun has risen quitely
it aims through an eyelet in the
tarpaulin.
and shoots at the oldman`s glasses.
a sawed off sunbeam comes to rest
gently against the driver`s right temple.
the bus seems to change direction.
at the end of bumpy ride with your own
face on the either side
when you get off the bus.
you don’t step inside the old man`s head.
The theme of this poem is common among the Indian
Poetry, pilgrimage. The bus shows us the cross section of the society. All
people belonging to different strata of the society are travelling together for
religious purposes. Among them is the protagonist Manohar, who apparently is a
man with modern thought and skepticism. The bus is a regular state transport
and not a high tech modernized one. The simplicity is highlighted where the
windows are covered with tarpaulin. The covered windows obstruct the outer view
and symbolizes to a blinder; it stops the people from questioning about the
faults in religious practices. On the other hand, Manohar is trying to look
outside the window to look for the signs of daybreak. But the tarpaulin has
covered the window completely not letting even sun rays enter inside. This
shows the receptivity of the narrow minded people in the bus. Darkness is very
prevalent in the scene. The positivity only comes in when we see the head
lights of the bus. They help to replace the darkness with light, which is
nothing but spirituality. Spirituality helps us to move from darkness to light
like this journey which is reaching a religious spot. Manohar has different
intentions to visit Jejuri. He is going with an open mind to observe the traditions
beyond the ritualistic approach. Towards the end, when the bumpy ride has
ended, the people are still coming there with their biases towards each other.
“You don’t step inside the old man’s head” portrays the aspect of alienation in
a religious place.
The Priest
An offering of heel and haunch
on the cold altar of the culvert wall
the priest waits.
Is the bus a little late?
The priest wonders.
Will there be a puran poli in his plate?
With a quick intake of testicles
at the touch of the rough cut, dew
drenched stone
he turns his head in the sun
to look at, the long road winding out of
sight
with the evenlessness
of the fortune line on a dead man’s palm.
The sun takes up the priest’s head
and pats his cheek
familiarly like the village barber.
The bit of betel nut
turning over and over on his tongue
is a mantra.
It works.
The bus is no more just a thought in his
head.
It’s now a dot in the distance
and under his lazy lizard stare
it begins to grow
slowly like a wart upon his nose.
With a thud and a bump
the bus takes a pothole as it rattles past
the priest
and paints his eyeballs blue.
The bus goes round in a circle.
Stops inside the bus station and stands
purring softly in front of the priest.
A catgrin on its face
and a live, ready to eat pilgrim
held between its teeth.
This poem clearly stands out for its direct attack on
the religious heads of the temple community. It takes a satirical tone
displaying the ugly image of how religion has become a business. Kolatkar
throws light on the dishonorable practices of the priest. The offerings get
more importance, than the faith. And while the devotees are making offerings,
the priest awaits as to see how much he can get out of it.
The priest is dependent on this faith of the people
for his living. Hence, he is waiting eagerly for the bus. He is standing
outside the temple under the hot sun looking for the bus. He is thinking about
how much he can earn this day and whether or not he’ll get a puran poli
in his plate. Puran poli is a sweet dish cooked during auspicious times in
Maharashtrian homes. It is an expensive dish and hence is seldom cooked.
The priest also indulges in unhealthy bad habits like
chewing a betel leaf. He is turning it over and over as though he is chanting a
mantra. Priests are supposed to be holy people who have to chant mantras, but
here the scene is otherwise. He is perhaps praying for the bus to arrive soon.
His foul materialism is mirrored time and gain in the
poem. The source of his greed is dishonesty. But now he has been doing it for
so long that he doesn’t seem to feel guilty at all. A priest vows that he will
be away from all the worldly pleasures. But this priest is engrossed in
counting the offerings. There is no simplicity in his thinking and living, the
catgrin on his face symbolizes that.
Heart of Ruin
The roof comes down on Maruti’s head.
Nobody seems to mind.
Least of all Maruti himself
May be he likes a temple better this way.
A mongrel bitch has found a place
for herself and her puppies
in the heart of the ruin.
May be she likes a temple better this way.
The bitch looks at you guardedly
Past a doorway cluttered with broken
tiles.
The pariah puppies tumble over her.
May be they like a temple better this way.
The black eared puppy has gone a little
too far.
A tile clicks under its foot.
It’s enough to strike terror in the heart
of a dung beetle
and send him running for cover
to the safety of the broken collection box
that never did get a chance to get out
from under the crushing weight of the roof
beam.
No more a place of worship this place
is nothing less than the house of god.
The poem Heart of Ruin depicts the state of the Maruti
temple’s architecture. It is in utmost despair as the temple community has
completely neglected it. The original structure of the temple is no longer
intact and the roof has come down too. The roof is touching the idol’s head and
still no one cares about repairing it. The poet points out to a very beautiful
natural element of survival. The animals have taken shelter in the temple
ruins. Here we get to know that not only the ceiling, but the flooring too is
completely damaged. The young puppies are playing over it. We realize that
nothing is left in the temple. Neither can one see the idol of God properly,
nor can he or she enter the temple. But it has become a spot of the animls.
Although the poet takes us through a rough description of the image of the
temple, the ending is optimistic. Now he says, the temple isn’t a place of
worship, but is a ‘house of god’. Every creature is welcome in the house of god
as it will provide them with shelter. Very interestingly, Kolatkar has used the
word ‘god’ in lower case throughout. The implication is that Kolatkar doesn’t
believe in idol worship and false beliefs.
An old woman
An old woman grabs
hold of your sleeve
and tags along.
She wants a fifty paise coin.
She says she will take you
to the horseshoe shrine.
You’ve seen it already.
She hobbles along anyway
and tightens her grip on your shirt.
She won’t let you go.
You know how these old women are.
They stick to you like a burr.
You turn around and face her
with an air of finality.
You want to end the farce.
When you hear her say,
‘What else can an old woman do
on hills as wretched as these?’
You look right at the sky.
Clean through the bullet holes
she has for her eyes,
And as you look on
the cracks that begin around her eyes
spread beyond her skin.
And the hills crack.
And the temples crack.
And the sky falls
with a plateglass clatter
around the shatterproof crone
who stands alone.
This poem opens us to another perspective of this
pilgrimage i.e. of the old woman. We see multiple meanings as the perspectives
change. Poverty is the cancer our country is suffering it. No places have
escaped poverty. The old woman is poor, vulnerable, hungry and alone. She has
no one but herself and in order to survive, she has to indulge into begging.
This is the real sight of every religious spot, especially temples. She
attempts to be a local guide to the pilgrims in return of a fifty paisa coin.
But the pilgrims have already gone around and seen the shrine, still she clings
on to their shirt sleeve begging for money.
What is the livelihood of such poor and old homeless
people. The poet compares her to the wretched hills and asks what can she do
alone in this condition. The person onto whom she clinged realizes his fault.
Kolatkar brings out the purposelessness of the shrine through the figure of the
old woman. If the protagonist makes offerings to this old woman in place of the
priest, it would have been so much better. The old woman lives near the temple,
but the temple community doesn’t take care of her looking at her condition.
Everyone is greedy and that results in suffering. Her eyes reflect the sky of
inner-consciousness. They give a glimpse of the vast potential of the life. The
realization is such a shattering experience that everything else seems futile.
The
Blue Horse
‘The Blue Horse’ presents the spectacle of a group of
singers singing in a keyless passion in praise of Khandoba’s horse at the house
of priest. The group of singers is led by a “The toothless singer” who:
Opens her mouth.
Shorts the circuits
in her haywire throat.”
But the poet’s reaction to the whole thing is only
predictable. It strikes him as a “bit of sacred cabaret act.” This poem
describes a religious ceremony which the priest has arranged at his house for
the convenience of protagonist. Of course the priest must have been paid enough
money as his fee for thus obliging the
protagonist.
You turn to the priest
who has been good enough to arrange
that bit of sacred cabaret act at his own
house.
Kolatkar’s utter contempt of the priest is obvious.
The singers sing of a Blue Horse on which Khandoba had ridden away after
killing the demons and after having murdered his wife. But, the picture on the
wall of the priest’s house shows a white horse. The protagonist asks priest for
the explanation.
“The singers sang of a blue horse.
How is it then, that the picture on your
wall shows a white one?’
The priest artificially imparts a bluish hue to the
picture on the wall in order to make it look blue. Once again we see the
negligence about the accuracy or the fact. The true history is not known by the
priest; hence the religion is in darkness. The interruption or queries doesn’t
affect the priest and the singers. They carry on with their drums to be beaten
with great force.
The
Priest’s Son
In the poem ‘The Priest’s Son’, a young boy is often
deputed by his father to take the tourists to different parts of the temple and
explain them the significance of the various statues and of some of the hills.
In this poem, the priest’s son takes the protagonist to the different places
connected with the various legends about Khandoba and his deeds. There are five
hills, situated close to one another, which are described by the priest’s son
to the protagonist as being the stone figures of the five demons whom Khandoba
had killed.
these five hills
are the five demons
that Khandoba killed
But, when asked whether the boy really
believes that story, the boy does not reply and merely looks uncomfortable. He
shrugs and, looking away, draws the protagonist’s attention to a butterfly in
the grass, thus trying to make the protagonist forget the question which he has
asked:
he doesn’t reply
but merely looks uncomfortable
shrugs and looks away
look
there’s a butterfly
there
In this poem in fact the priest’s son, himself does
not believe in the authenticity of the stories about Khandoba. But, just for
the sake of livelihood he has to give credibility to the legends and cannot
deny it. Hence, Jejuri has become a place to earn one’s livelihood rather a
place of devotion. King Bruce says “Jejuri is, I think, less a poem of
skepticism and a poem about a modern wasteland’s loss of faith than a poem
which contrasts deadness of perception within the ability to see the divine in
the natural vitality of life.”
Makarand
In the poem ‘Makarand’ the protagonist frankly refuses
to join the worship which the pilgrims have come to offer to the image of God
Khandoba. The protagonist would rather prefer smoking outside than go inside
shirtless for the worship. His objection is not merely to his taking off his
shirt but to the worship itself.
Not me.
But you go right ahead
if that’s what you want to do.
Give me the matchbox
before you go,
will you?
A
Scratch
‘A Scratch’, the title itself conveys the
idea that, merely by scratching a stone at Jejuri, a pilgrim would come across
or discover a legend which proves the sanctity of temple of god Khandoba. It is
very difficult to decide at Jejuri what is god and what is stone. The dividing
line between a god and a stone at jejuri is very difficult to determine because
any stone, which a pilgrim picks up, may prove to be the image of god; and the
next stone which one picks up, may
turn out to be god’s cousin.
what is god
and what is stone
the dividing line
if it exits
is very thin
at Jejuri
and every other stone
is god or his cousin
Any stone which the pilgrim picks up, either from the
dirty, loose earth or from the hard rock would find the stone to be sacred
stone and a personification of some god. There is one huge rock, of the size of
a bedroom. This portion of the rock is Khandoba’s wife who had been turned into
a stone figure by Khandoba when he had struck her down with his sword in a
state of fury. The crack, which runs across that portion of the rock, is the
scar of the wound which the wife had received from her husband’s sword which
had a broad blade. The rock bears witness to Khandoba’s murder of his wife in a
fit of anger.
that giant hunk of rock
the size of a bedroom
is Khandoba’s wife turned to stone
the crack that runs right across
is the scar from his broadsword
once in a fit of rage.
Kolatkar here ridicules the blind faith of the
Maharashtrian pilgrims who visit Jejuri to offer worship to Khandoba. There is
no limit to the number of stone images of the gods whom the pilgrims can
worship.
A song for a Murli
look
the moon has come down
to graze along the hill top
you dare not ride off with it,
don’t you see khandoba’s brand on it’s
flank
you horse thief
look
that’s his name
tattooed just below the left collar bone
keep your hands off khandoba’s woman
you old lecher
let’s see the color of your money first
In ‘A Song for a Murli’ deals with the female devotee,
sings songs praising Khandoba. The institution of a Murli, corresponding to the
‘Devadasi’ elsewhere in India naturally deteriorates to prostitution. keep your
hands off Khandoba’s woman you old lecher let’s see the colour of your money
first.
The cupboard in a sarcastic manner shows how the gods
are preserved according to their status. We can see how stone gods are
neglected and bronze gods get fare treatment. But the gold gods as they are
made up of precious metals are locked up for safety.
Kolatkar’s Jejuri offers a rich description of India
and a town Jejuri which is a spiritual quest. It is an effort to find the
divine trace in a degenerate world. With irony as a weapon Jejuri is the work
with a unique and visionary voice.
Chaitanya
The small poem ‘Chaitanya’ contains an important
message which is conveyed through one vivid image, that of Chaitanya spitting
out the seeds of the grapes that he has eaten. Chaitanya did not like the stone
images of Gods lying neglected – even without flowers in Jejuri. This poem
shows that Chaitanya liked the stones of Jejuri because “they are sweet as grapes” and he
transformed these stones into Gods.
‘Sweet as grapes
Are the stones of Jejuri’,
He popped a stone
in his mouth
and spat out gods.
The image seems to be blasphemous, but what it implies
is the god-making ability of Chaitanya. He had the capacity to turn stones into
gods. Eating and spitting out both suggest a supernatural, if irreverent,
attitude to this otherwise miraculous transfiguration. The implication, of
course, is that the belief in gods is absurd.
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