Is love political? An understanding through Bhakti poems.

The definition of "political" seems to be rather elusive. The idea of being political in today’s tense climate projects a difficult position, as the varying opinions and their sensitivity, are increasingly creating a dangerous atmosphere. But if we think objectively, almost all acts, positions and thoughts are inherently political. There is an unspoken, yet vibrant, power play in every situation in life. I use the word vibrant deliberately, as powerplay tends to be often misconstrued in a negative fashion, whereas it is one of the most interesting and palpably exciting features of everyday life. For example, in a class of 10, if one student decides to sit on the table instead of the chair, he is making a very political move, wherein the power structure is inherently disturbed. There is visible tension. The student is consciously choosing to break the balance of power which has been previously established.

Therefore, when something that trivial can be political, an emotion as phantom and amatory as love is bound to be political. No matter the context – parental, fraternal, amorous – a defined power play exists, which is often not decided individually but is established socially.

I enjoyed Dr. Purushottam Agrawal’s speech on Kabir thoroughly. He says, “I find him (Kabir) to be resembling myself yet I fail to recognize him”. It almost seems to be what an enamoured lover would say, where she is capable of realizing her love for her beloved, but is unable to comprehend what about him has captured her affection. That again comes back to the question of the power relation between two lovers, wherein there always exists an element of ambiguity, no matter how close they get. That element of mystery is often what propels a relationship forward and when that is lost, it begins to wane. Does that not suggest motives beyond only love? The idea that the lover is engaged in the relationship solely to understand what she is unable to, in an attempt to further a personal cause. That seems inherently political.

Dr. Purushottam Agrawal quotes Kabir, saying,

“I had the illumination of love within and it illuminates my outside as well, it makes my poetry as fragrant as the musk”

This presents to us another case of the intense powerplay present in almost all relationships. The idea that true love, when approached by a true seeker, lights up not only the outer world but also the inner body. This light seems almost all-consuming, to an extent where it overpowers other things. It blinds the seeker but still makes him see. It transforms his poetry into a “fragrant” work. This might seem overarchingly positive, yet what strikes me is the idea that this light of true love alters that original composition. The poet’s (seeker’s) original composition is not what it used to be but is altered to form something better. But this ‘better’ seems to be relative. Does it not destroy the actual inherent beauty of the poem? Is that how true love is overpowering the original? Does this love really warrant the giving up of the power over one’s own composition? That makes it seem political to me.

Let’s look at another Kabir doha:

My love’s radiance is ruby-red

Wherever I look – red, red!

I set out in search of red,

I became red myself.

Here, Kabir talks of himself as being “red”, which is corroborated with all things love related – henna, vermillion, roses and so on. He goes on to say that wherever he looks, he sees red, implying that this love has overtaken all other aspects of his life and does not allow him to see as he would ordinarily. It has blinded him, in a sense. His original sight of the world and his perspective seems to have been lost in this red. This is very often the character love takes on. One’s own ideas and points of view are lost as a sacrifice in the raging pyre of love. This idea is further perpetuated when Kabir writes the words “I became red myself”. This seems to suggest that the lover is almost unknown to himself been colored a different color. He didn’t ask to be colored or changed in any way, but he becomes red.

The second doha I would like to present is by Amir Khusro,

Khusro says, the river of love

                                                       Flows in strange ways

One who escapes, drowns

One who drowns, is saved!

Khusro says that the river if love is not like any ordinary river. One cannot cross it by simply swimming across. Only by drowning can one cross the river of love. There seems to be this recurring theme of surrender when it comes to the topic of love in this arena. Usually, love required that equal sacrifice of both parties, but whenever we talk of love here, there seems to be a need to surrender the known and delve into the unknown; the impending need to stray from the world that we know as ours. Why should a lover have to sacrifice his/her nature and truth in order to swim in the river of love? Why must we drown ourselves in the river to attain true love? Can love not be achieved by less extreme means? What is this necessity to drown all our familiarity and individuality and become a blank sheet for our lover to write his/her words of true love on it? This again hints at the idea that love is indeed political. Why would it, otherwise, need lovers to drown and surrender all that makes them a distinct individual in order to receive love? Is that not almost a method of applying pressure to a person, almost holding lovers hostage with love being the sweet release?

The final piece of poetry that I would like to present is another doha by Kabir:

Come into my eyes, my love

I’ll shut them close and hide you

I won’t look at anyone else

Nor let you see another.

The idea of ownership of a lover comes into play here. The modern concept of dating can be brought into the picture, wherein being in a relationship implies calling the person “mine”. But that doesn’t in any way imply that you own the entirety of a person. You can, at best, own the few moments of time that you share. In contrast, in Kabir’s doha there seems to be a need to own a person completely, a need to shut them out of the world outside and keep them to oneself. Only then is true love expressed. There seems to be this necessity to shut the lover in, and in doing so, cut oneself off from the world as well. This again provides to me a degree of political agenda, wherein the need to possess a person absolutely seems to be a disruption of the normal powerplay of a relationship. The desire to exert complete control over the lover by not allowing him/her to even look at another person is robbing him/her of a never natural sense. Is that the price one has to pay for true love? And if a price has to be paid to attain love, is that very act not inherently political?