In the grand tradition of Bhakti poets that India produced in great numbers one of the brightest high points was Narasingh Mehta of Gujarat. He was all the more unusual in being greatly defiant of social conventions even though he was member of the Nagars, a Brahman caste with great privileges and no desire to consider peculiar ideals like the equality of all men. As is always the case, he endured vilification when living, and deification when dead, for his original and creative views on such contentious topics. Narasingh however loved God too much to spurn man over trivialities like the accidents of birth.

It is difficult to get any accurate estimate of his life and indeed even when he was born. Opinions vary widely with all the passion that only disinterested scholarship can provoke. The usually assigned date 1414-1480 A.D. is now regarded as the best compromise and it aggress with tradition too. He was born as mentioned in a Nagar family in a village near Junagadh, in Saurashtra, Gujarat. He was orphaned early in life and brought up enduring the tender mercies of his brother' s family. The constant stress and strife at home led him increasingly to seek the company of wandering saints and pilgrims who used to pass through his home-town as it was on all the major pilgrim routes of the time. This association naturally did not endear him to his family but all his life he showed an amazing capacity to bear oppression calmly for what he considered to be the right.

At the age of fifteen he had his great mystical experience, which altered him forever and set him on the path to devotion to God, specifically Krishna. He was witnessing an enactment of the Rasa Lila, the dance of Krishna while holding up a torch to illuminate the dancers. So enthralled was he by what he was witnessing that his hand began to be scorched. The dancer playing Krishna pointed it out to him and then the reports vary wildly as to what happened. Narasingh remained convinced all his life that Krishna himself had come forward as the dancer to grant him 'darshan' and cited his miraculously healed hand as proof of the divine presence. Others were more skeptical and thought he was attempting to hog glory with such tales.

His worried family dragged out that old chestnut of a panacea for young men who were not living up to the money grubbing expectations of the family, marriage, and got him married off. This usually works in forever rendering mediocre the person but saints are made of a different earth as they say in rural India. Narasingh accepted the marriage as the will of Krishna but he continued his merry mystical way. He was, as is common with saints, quite a trial for his poor wife, Manekbai. His children daughter Kunwarbai and son Shamal never knew what to make of this strange person who happened to be his father. His daughter especially had to endure much taunting from her in-laws about the father who failed to provide dowry. Narasingh however had a simple answer to all problems - Krishna will provide. If the stories are to be believed then Krishna did not let his devotee down even once, miraculously appearing with goodies and presents whenever Kunwarbai's life became too miserable to endure. This angered her mother in law who maliciously set out boiling water instead of hot water for Narasingh's ablutions and then taunted him to ask god for water that was suitable if he was a true bhagat (devotee). Narasingh's prayer resulted in a downpour that swept away their arrogance and his reputation as a strange worker of miracles was firmly established.

Such stories are common enough in the hagiographies about saints and part of the expectations of the devout. They do desire that their saintly hero be persecuted and his love of God saves him miraculously. This template was what led to stories of God repaying his promissory note in other towns to save him from debts he had to incur in desperate situations. The devotee was becoming one of the foremost poets of the day and his reputation spread rapidly. He used to write in the old language of Gujarat though he had a great knowledge of Marathi too and liberally besprinkled his verse with stanzas in that language. He did not care about poetic conventions, what mattered to him was the burning love for god that he wished to communicate in whichever language was best suited to express the emotions he was feeling. In one of his most famous poems the Vaishnava Janto, he takes on all prejudices and rends them.
"Who is a Vaishnava, a true man of God?
The man who experiences in himself the pain of another
Who soothes the distress of others
Who is not puffed up with notions of 'achievement' or great age
Who respects all creatures in creation
Who speaks ill of none
Whose senses are firmly restrained
Whose tongue does not utter untruth
Who does not touch what he does not own
Such is a Vaishnava
In his pure self are found all the places of pilgrimage."

Narasingh had gathered round him a diverse and motley band of fellow lovers of god and their constant and enthusiastic singing and ecstatic trances were becoming a sore trial for the Brahmans of the town. They did not know what to make of this strange new Bhakti movement sweeping India, a revolution in religious affairs, which proclaimed that the scriptures and rituals were not important, to love god and serve man was. This cut at the root of caste privileges, as well as rendered irrelevant any priestly intermediary between man and God. In despair they appealed to the King of Junagadh, Raja Mandalik.

The charges were the usual mish mash of outraged privilege and bewilderment at changing social orders. He was accused of overturning established conventions and of associating with untouchables, drunkards and fallen women in violation of the code for Brahmans. To the latter charge he only said that he could not turn away a fellow human being if he or she wanted to repent and sing the name of Krishna. As to his lack of reverence for scriptural sanctions and rulebooks he had to follow what his individual conscience told him to. The king was caught in a bind. The man was obviously someone special but the massed orthodoxy had to be placated too. He desired a special test of saintliness. If Narasingh was indeed a true bhagat, beyond normal caste restrictions, then Krishna had to emerge from behind locked temple doors and place a garland round his neck. The poet had supreme faith in his god and agreed.

When a whole day passed with no miracle to silence the scoffers, he lost his temper and wrote one of his grandest poems, a veritable litany of complaint to a god who was still testing the faith of his devotee.
"You are no Master, not am I your favored servant, if the king can persecute me thus. People abuse me as a greedy, lascivious hypocrite not as a true devotee of yours. If you are my Master then help me again as you did for my daughter. Surely you cannot be deaf to my pleas because I am a Nagar Brahman, for you have helped low caste men like Namadeva and Kabir.( A neat inversion of traditional caste prejudice, God may be reluctant to help because he is a member of a privileged caste!) How can you live in peace, in Heaven, in Vrindavan or with Radha, when I , your joyful friend am not there ?"

The doors burst open, the garland flew out and onto his neck. The king told the Brahmans that Narasingh was no ordinary person and should be left alone.

That silenced the more vociferous critics and put an end to the organized resistance to Narasingh's activities. However slander and calumny continued to dog his heels in his hometown. In disgust he abandoned it and settled in Mangrol for the last fifteen years of his life. His reputation continued to grow and his from his poems emerged a system that emphasized patience, humility, compassion and good will for all living creatures, self restrain and absolute surrender to and love for Krishna. His poems are sung even today, they are a living component of faith, not scholarly curiosities. His radical ideas about caste (he did not see the point) were never accepted but the devotional strain of Hindu religion got a massive fillip with the life of Narasingh Mehta.

- Rohit Arya

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