Niloba: The One They Call the Last

This is the third time in this series of entries, and at three instances it stops being a coincidence and becomes a form.

The three cases

One. Charandas of Delhi, whose tradition names Shukadeva as his guru, a figure from the Bhagavata Purana.

Two. Garibdas of Chhudani, who said Kabir appeared to him in a field when he was ten, around two hundred and fifty years after Kabir's death.

Three. Niloba of Pimpalner, who received the mantra from Tukaram after Tukaram had gone.

And there are more. The pattern recurs across northern and western India in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries with enough regularity to be described.

What the claim does

Four things, and they are worth listing because they explain the distribution.

One. It supplies a guru where there is not one.

Every one of these traditions requires a teacher. Initiation from a living guru is structurally necessary to what they teach, and a founder who cannot name one has a hole at the centre of the lineage.

Two. It connects to the most authoritative available name.

Not to a plausible local teacher, which is what a fabrication designed to be believed would produce. To Kabir. To Shukadeva. To Tukaram. The claim always reaches for the biggest name in reach.

Three. It bypasses the intermediate chain.

Which is the practical function. A living lineage has to be documented person by person and can be challenged link by link. A direct transmission from a great figure cannot be challenged at all, because there is nothing to check.

Four. And it is unfalsifiable, which is both its strength and the reason to be careful with it.

How to hold it

Not as a lie, and not as a fact.

Three readings are available and a reader does not have to choose.

The devotional reading: it happened, the tradition means what it says, and the departed saint is available to those who call.

The psychological reading: a man who had spent years inside Tukaram's abhangas, who knew them by heart, who thought in them, dreamed of Tukaram. Which is not a small thing, and is not a fraud, and is what deep reading does to a person.

The institutional reading: the tradition needed the line to be complete and supplied the connection afterwards.

And here is the point this series keeps returning to.

None of the three readings changes the abhangas.

Niloba's verses are good or they are not, and the question of how he came by his mantra does not touch that. Garibdas's twenty thousand verses exist regardless of who handed them over. The Sahaj Prakash exists regardless of Shukadeva.

The lineage claim is about authority. The poetry is about something else. A reader can decline the first and keep the second, and that is not disrespect, it is the ordinary way anybody reads anything.

And the practical warning, which is why this matters now

The claim of transmission from a dead master is still made, and it is still used.

A person today who says they received authority directly from a departed saint, in a dream or a vision, and that this makes them the successor, is making exactly this move, and there is no way for you to check it.

So use the tests that do not depend on checking it.

• What do they want from you
• What happens if you leave
• Can they be questioned
• Who is not allowed to speak
• And what is in the court record

Niloba, for whatever it is worth, asked for nothing. He kept his job as village accountant, wrote abhangas, and is buried at Pimpalner.

Because calling somebody the last saint is a decision, and it is made by people, afterwards.

What the claim does

Three things, and one of them is genuinely good.

One, and this is the good one. It protects against claimants.

A tradition that has declared its line closed has a ready answer to the next person who arrives saying they are the living successor of Tukaram and would like control of the institutions.

Given what this series has recorded about what happens to devotional lineages when somebody captures them, this is not a small benefit. The Garibdas entry two batches back describes exactly the outcome the closure rule prevents.

Two. It consolidates authority in the existing custodians.

If nobody new can be a sant, then interpretation belongs permanently to those who hold the texts and the institutions. That is a transfer of power and it should be named as one.

Three. It converts a movement into a heritage.

A living tradition that might produce another Tukaram is a different thing from a completed tradition that is preserved. The first is dangerous to somebody. The second is safe.

And the plain difficulty with it

The line demonstrably did not stop.

Bahinabai, whose abhanga supplies the temple metaphor in the first place, was writing in the same period and after.

Gadge Baba, 1876 to 1956, who walked from village to village with a broom, cleaned the streets before he would speak, refused to accept a building for himself, and attacked ritual, caste and superstition in Marathi in front of enormous crowds, is one of the most consequential religious figures modern Maharashtra produced.

Tukdoji Maharaj, 1909 to 1968, wrote the Gramgeeta, worked on village reconstruction, and is read across Vidarbha and beyond.

Nobody in Maharashtra thinks those two were not in the sant stream.

So the tradition holds two positions at once: that the line ended with Niloba, and that these later figures are sants. Which is what traditions do, and noticing it is not an attack on it.

What the closure claim is actually about

Read carefully, it is a statement about a period rather than about availability.

The Marathi sant movement from Jnaneshwar in the thirteenth century to Niloba in the seventeenth is a coherent literary and religious phenomenon with a beginning and an end, in the way the Elizabethan drama or the Sanskrit court epic has a beginning and an end. Saying it closed is a historical observation and it is correct.

It is not a claim that Vitthal stopped being available in 1690.

And that distinction is the whole of it, because the Varkari tradition's central doctrine is precisely that the practice does not require you to be a sant.

Which is where this batch of entries ends

A barber. A goldsmith. A man who could not walk. A revenue clerk. A Mahar woman. A village accountant.

Not one of them was a renunciant. Not one of them left their household. Not one of them was qualified in any way that would have been recognised by the establishment of their time.

And the tradition that produced them says, over and over, in every one of their voices, that this is the point.

What a Varkari actually does

And it is short, which is deliberate.

• The Haripath, Jnaneshwar's set of abhangas, recited daily, which takes a few minutes
• Vitthal Vitthal, or Ram Krishna Hari, which is the Varkari mantra
• Ekadashi, twice a month, observed as the household observes it
• The tulsi mala, worn
• The wari, to Pandharpur, in Ashadh or Kartik, once, or once a year, or once in a life, on foot if you can and by whatever means if you cannot, which is the Kurmadas entry's whole subject
• And the work, which none of them stopped doing

Where to go

• Pimpalner, Ahmednagar district, where Niloba's samadhi is
• Dehu, for Tukaram, and Alandi, for Jnaneshwar, which are where the wari begins
• Pandharpur, which is where it ends

A daily practice from this entry

• The Haripath, which is the shortest complete practice this tradition offers
• Ram Krishna Hari
• And the closing thought of this batch, which belongs to all six of them: the tradition did not ask you to be extraordinary, it asked you to walk

Who: Niloba, also Nilobaraya, seventeenth century, of Pimpalner in the Ahmednagar country of Maharashtra, and the village kulkarni, meaning the accountant and record keeper who held the land records, wrote the revenue accounts and maintained the register of holdings and payments. That is a literate, respectable, hereditary post and it is a job, which places him with Damaji Pant and against the wandering ascetic model entirely, since the Varkari tradition keeps producing men who held offices and wrote poetry in the hours around them. He wanted a teacher, could not find one he accepted, had settled on Tukaram, and Tukaram had left the world around 1650. The tradition says Tukaram came to him, in a dream in the standard telling, gave him the mantra and initiated him, years after his departure from Dehu. He left a substantial body of abhangas in the standard Varkari register, read in the ordinary repertoire, and his samadhi is at Pimpalner.

Why he is called the last: because of a famous abhanga of Bahinabai describing the tradition as a temple building, in which Jnanadev laid the foundation and raised the structure, Namdev built the enclosure, Janardan and Eknath supplied the pillar which is the Bhagavata, Tuka became the kalash or finial, and Bahini says the flag is flying. Later Varkari usage identifies Niloba with that flag, the last element above the finial, and from there he becomes conventionally the last of the sant parampara. The versions of the sequence differ and the identification is later than Bahinabai's own verse, so hold it as the tradition's way of talking about itself rather than a fixed doctrine.

Initiation from somebody who has died: this is the third instance in this series, and at three it becomes a form. Charandas of Delhi names Shukadeva, a figure from the Bhagavata Purana. Garibdas of Chhudani said Kabir appeared to him in a field when he was ten, around two hundred and fifty years after Kabir's death. Niloba received the mantra from Tukaram after Tukaram had gone. The claim does four things: it supplies a guru where there is not one, since these traditions require initiation from a living teacher and a founder who cannot name one has a hole at the centre of the lineage; it connects to the most authoritative available name rather than to a plausible local teacher, always reaching for the biggest name in reach; it bypasses the intermediate chain, since a living lineage can be challenged link by link while a direct transmission cannot be checked at all; and it is unfalsifiable, which is both its strength and the reason for care. Three readings are available and you need not choose: the devotional one, that it happened; the psychological one, that a man who had spent years inside Tukaram's abhangas and knew them by heart dreamed of Tukaram, which is not a fraud but what deep reading does to a person; and the institutional one, that the tradition needed the line complete and supplied the connection afterwards. None of the three changes the abhangas, since the lineage claim is about authority and the poetry is about something else, and a reader can decline the first and keep the second. The practical warning is that the claim is still made today by people who say a departed saint gave them authority in a dream, which you cannot check, so use the tests that do not require checking: what do they want from you, what happens if you leave, can they be questioned, who is not allowed to speak, and what is in the court record. Niloba asked for nothing, kept his job and is buried at Pimpalner.

Who decides a tradition is finished: calling somebody the last saint is a decision made by people afterwards, and it does three things. It protects against claimants, which is genuinely good, since a tradition that has declared its line closed has a ready answer to the next person who says they are Tukaram's living successor and would like control of the institutions, and the Garibdas entry describes exactly the outcome this prevents. It consolidates authority in the existing custodians, since if nobody new can be a sant then interpretation belongs permanently to those who hold the texts and institutions, which is a transfer of power. And it converts a movement into a heritage, since a living tradition that might produce another Tukaram is dangerous to somebody while a completed one is safe. The plain difficulty is that the line demonstrably did not stop: Bahinabai, whose abhanga supplies the metaphor, was writing in the same period and after; Gadge Baba, 1876 to 1956, walked from village to village with a broom, cleaned the streets before he would speak, refused a building for himself and attacked ritual, caste and superstition before enormous crowds; and Tukdoji Maharaj, 1909 to 1968, wrote the Gramgeeta and worked on village reconstruction. Nobody in Maharashtra thinks those two were outside the sant stream, so the tradition holds both positions at once. Read carefully, the closure claim is a statement about a period rather than about availability: the Marathi sant movement from Jnaneshwar in the thirteenth century to Niloba in the seventeenth is a coherent literary and religious phenomenon with a beginning and an end, and saying so is a correct historical observation, not a claim that Vitthal stopped being available in 1690.

Where this batch ends: a barber, a goldsmith, a man who could not walk, a revenue clerk, a Mahar woman and a village accountant. Not one was a renunciant, not one left their household, and not one was qualified in any way the establishment of their time would have recognised, and the tradition says in every one of their voices that this is the point. What a Varkari does is short by design: the Haripath daily, which takes minutes; Vitthal Vitthal or Ram Krishna Hari; ekadashi twice a month; the tulsi mala; the wari to Pandharpur in Ashadh or Kartik, on foot if you can and by any means if you cannot; and the work, which none of them stopped doing.