But here is the irony Kabir would laugh at:
His ecstasy was not a quiet, meditative peace. It was an explosive, drunken, confrontational joy. He laughed at the hypocrites and danced in the lanes of Banaras singing:
In the North Indian Bhakti tradition, this is described using the metaphor of alcohol. The saints are the "drunkards" who have tasted the wine of divine love, making them incapable of conforming to social norms. Kabir writes:
“I laugh when I hear that the fish in the water is thirsty. You wander restlessly in the forest, while the real thing is in your own home.”
Be careful. If you read Kabir deeply, your life will become uncomfortable.
If you find that PDF—if you scroll through those couplets translated from the Bijak —you will not find pretty spiritual metaphors. You will find a crowbar. You will find a fist. You will find a weaver from Varanasi who refused to be Hindu or Muslim, yelling at you from 600 years ago to wake up.
: He often uses the metaphor of the "inner lover" or the "Guest" to describe God, emphasizing that the divine is as close as one's own breath.
Mohegharlaneetanha, Mainnasahatpiyya... (I have been ruined by the Shopkeeper, I cannot bear the drink...)
