Akho: The Goldsmith Who Turned On Everybody

The form

Six lines.

That is what chhappa means, and the discipline of it is the whole effect: an observation, a turn, and a closing line that lands, in six lines, in a spoken language, memorisable in one hearing.

Which is why they survived. Gujarati households have been quoting Akho for four hundred years, frequently without knowing they are quoting him, in the way English speakers quote Shakespeare.

What he attacked

Almost everything, and the list is worth having in full because the softened versions leave things out.

One. Ritual done without attention.

Tilak karta trepan thaya, japamalana naka gaya.

Fifty three went in applying the tilak, and the holes of the rosary wore through.

Fifty three what. Years, lifetimes, the reader supplies it, and the point is that the beads have physically worn out and nothing has happened.

Two. Worshipping objects as an end.

Ek murakhne evi tev, patthar etla puje dev.

One fool has this habit: as many stones as there are, he worships them all as gods.

Three. Gurus.

And this is where he is at his most savage, for the reason the previous section describes.

His chhappas on gurus include the image of the blind leading the blind into a well, the guru who cannot answer a question and covers it with abuse, the guru who takes money and gives nothing, and the disciple who is proud of having a guru without having understood a single thing.

Four. The pandits.

Learning as an occupation. People who have read everything, can quote anything, argue for a living and have not changed.

Five. Caste.

He attacks purity claims directly, and his position is the standard one of the nirguna sants and is stated with more contempt than most of them managed.

Six. Sectarianism.

People fighting about which form of God is superior, which he treats as the most obviously ridiculous thing available.

Seven. Himself.

Which is the feature that keeps him from being unbearable.

Akho puts himself in the target set repeatedly. He was the one who trusted the guru. He was the one who wasted the years. The chhappas about fools are not written from outside the category and he says so, and that is the difference between satire and sneering.

Why this is genuinely funny

Because it is, and that is not a small thing in devotional literature.

Most religious criticism is solemn. Akho's is quick, colloquial, and constructed for a laugh in the sixth line, and the laugh is the delivery mechanism: a joke gets past the defences that an argument does not.

And a household that has been laughing at a verse for four centuries has retained it.

A devotional site publishing Akho has to be straight about this, so here it is.

Akho attacks murti puja, ritual, pilgrimage, fasting, rosaries, tilak, temples and gurus.

This site publishes puja vidhis.

And that is fine, and here is why.

One. This is an argument inside the tradition, not an attack on it from outside.

The nirguna and saguna positions have been arguing in India since the Upanishads. Kabir, Nanak, Dadu, Ravidas and the whole northern sant stream take Akho's side. Tulsidas, Surdas, Chaitanya, Vallabha and the whole bhakti stream take the other.

They are all Hindu, they were all read by the same households, and no household has ever found this difficult. A Gujarati family sings Narsinh Mehta in the morning and quotes Akho at a wedding in the afternoon, and does not experience a contradiction, because there is not one.

Two. Read what he is actually objecting to.

Go back to the chhappas.

Tilak karta trepan thaya is not an attack on tilak. It is an attack on fifty three years of tilak with nothing behind it. The complaint is that the beads wore out and the man did not change.

Patthar etla puje dev is not an attack on an image. It is an attack on treating the stone as the whole of it and on a person who worships anything and everything without any idea what worship is for.

And his guru chhappas are not against having a teacher. He went to Kashi and studied. They are against the specific man who took his money and gave him nothing, and against a disciple's pride in an arrangement that has produced no change.

In every case the target is the same: the transaction.

Worship offered as a payment for a result. Ritual performed as a receipt. A guru acquired as a purchase. A stone approached as a vending machine.

Which is exactly what this series has been recording as the abuse pattern in nine batches, and Akho got there in about 1620 with better jokes.

Three. And the honest version of the disagreement is that there is a real one.

Akho would not approve of a great deal of ordinary devotional practice, and this article is not going to pretend he would.

He thought the object was a distraction. He thought the ritual was a substitute for the work. A person who reads him carefully and comes away doing less ritual has read him correctly, and so has a person who comes away doing the same ritual with attention.

What he demanded was that you know why you are doing it, and both of those answers satisfy that.

Four. Why a devotional site should print its own tradition's harshest critic.

Because a tradition that can only circulate its flattering material is not confident in what it circulates.

Hinduism produced Akho. It produced Kabir. It produced the Charvakas, whose position was that there is no afterlife and the priests are eating your food. It kept all of them.

And a reader who encounters the critique first from somebody hostile is worse served than a reader who encounters it from inside, which is the whole editorial argument of this series.

How to actually use him

As a check, once, on whatever you already do.

Four questions from the chhappas, in plain form

One. Has anything changed? You have been doing this for some years now. Are you different, or are the beads just worn?

Two. What are you expecting in return? If the answer is a specific outcome and the practice would stop if the outcome did not come, you have a contract rather than a practice, and Akho's entire body of work is about that distinction.

Three. Would you still do it if nobody could see? Public ritual and private ritual should be the same ritual.

Four. Who is being paid, and for what? Not that nobody should be paid; a priest has a family. But you should be able to say what the payment is for, and if you cannot, that is the chhappa.

Where to go

• Jetalpur, near Ahmedabad, his birthplace
• Ahmedabad old city, where he worked, and the Akhaa no Ordo, the house associated with him in Khadia
• Kashi, where he studied

What to read

• The Chhappas, in any Gujarati collection, and there are translations
• Akhegita, if you want the philosophy rather than the satire
• And for the same argument in Sanskrit, Bhaja Govindam, which does the same job in a different language and is much better known

A daily practice from this entry

• Whatever name you already use, said once with attention rather than fifty times without
• And the Akho question, asked once a month and not more often, because he is corrosive in quantity: what am I doing this for

Who: Akho, also called Akha Bhagat, of Jetalpur near Ahmedabad, roughly the first half of the seventeenth century, with 1591 to 1656 the range most often given and the dates genuinely uncertain. He was a sonar, a goldsmith, working in Ahmedabad and in some accounts at the mint, which is a trade built entirely on trust, since a goldsmith takes somebody's gold, works it and returns it and the customer cannot easily tell whether the same gold came back.

The betrayals, given as tradition rather than documented fact since the biography is late. A woman of the neighbourhood whom he had accepted as a sister gave him gold to make into ornaments, he made them and refused payment because she was his sister, and she had them tested behind his back suspecting he had substituted metal. She found nothing, which is not the point: the point is that she checked, and the accounts say he stopped being a goldsmith afterwards. Then an accusation of adulterating gold, in some versions at the mint, with an investigation and in some tellings imprisonment, from which he was cleared. And then a guru who turned out to be a fraud: he submitted, he was taken for money, and he found that the man he had given himself to was running a business. Three betrayals in a row: a sister who tested his honesty, a state that accused him of theft, and a teacher who sold him something.

What he did with it: he went to Kashi, studied Vedanta, came back an Advaitin, and wrote in Gujarati for the rest of his life. His works are the Chhappas, several hundred six line satirical verses; the Akhegita, a systematic Advaita text in about forty kadavas; the Anubhavbindu; and the Panchikaran, Chittavichar Samvad and Guru Shishya Samvad. He defended Gujarati explicitly, in a line that is among the most quoted in the language: bhasha ne shu valage bhur, ranma je jite te shur, what does language matter, fool, whoever wins the field is the one who won, and he made the argument by conducting serious religious argument in Gujarati at a level nobody could dismiss.

The form: six lines, an observation, a turn, and a closing line that lands, in a spoken language, memorisable in one hearing, which is why Gujarati households have been quoting him for four hundred years often without knowing it.

What he attacked: ritual done without attention, as in tilak karta trepan thaya, japamalana naka gaya, fifty three went in applying tilak and the holes of the rosary wore through; worshipping objects as an end, as in ek murakhne evi tev, patthar etla puje dev, one fool has this habit, as many stones as there are he worships them all as gods; gurus, where he is at his most savage, with the blind leading the blind into a well, the guru who covers an unanswered question with abuse, and the disciple proud of having a guru without understanding a thing; pandits, meaning learning as an occupation; caste and purity claims; sectarian fighting about which form of God is superior; and himself, repeatedly, which is what keeps him from being unbearable, since the chhappas about fools are not written from outside the category.

What he is not attacking: the target in every case is the transaction, worship offered as payment for a result, ritual performed as a receipt, a guru acquired as a purchase and a stone approached as a vending machine. Tilak karta trepan thaya is not an attack on tilak but on fifty three years of it with nothing behind it. Patthar etla puje dev is not an attack on an image but on treating the stone as the whole of it. And his guru chhappas are not against having a teacher, since he went to Kashi and studied, but against the specific man who took his money and gave him nothing.

Why a devotional site prints him: because the nirguna and saguna positions have been arguing in India since the Upanishads, with Kabir, Nanak, Dadu and Ravidas on his side and Tulsidas, Surdas, Chaitanya and Vallabha on the other, all of them Hindu and all read by the same households, and a Gujarati family sings Narsinh Mehta in the morning and quotes Akho in the afternoon without experiencing a contradiction. And because a tradition that can only circulate its flattering material is not confident in what it circulates.

How to use him: as a check, once, on whatever you already do. Has anything changed, or are the beads just worn. What are you expecting in return, since a practice that would stop if the outcome did not come is a contract. Would you still do it if nobody could see. And who is being paid and for what, not because nobody should be paid but because you should be able to say what the payment is for.