Could the fragmented songs of a 16th-century Rajput princess who shunned the world for all practical purposes work as “self-help?”

“I am married to the Eternal Husband”, sang Mira, troubled by the selfishness, malice and deceit inherent in all human bonds. The pursuit of duniyadaari (worldly transactions) brings pain and dejection as one thrashes about in the samsara-sagara, the sea of worldly trials and tribulations.

No wonder Mira sang, Sansar sarvey bhayankar kaalo (Everything is black and evil around me, I crave for Krishna). The company of holy souls (Satsangat) brought her peace. The trappings of royalty she cast off like a dusty garment, wearing only the resplendent robes of Krishna bhakti. For one who knows God, there is nothing more to be craved, for there is nothing more to be attained.

For all her ascetic leanings, Mira demonstrates an accurate understanding of the society of her time; not very different from our own, evidently: “People may criticise us, but let us be steadfast in our Hari-world.” Since time immemorial, there has always been enmity (vair) between jagat (the world and its people) and bhagat (the devotee who is immersed in God); the two will inevitably work at cross purposes.

“Ghelan ame bhale thaya re” (Never mind if we are unhinged in our love of the Lord). Mira’s words are magical and mysterious. If you take her literally, you encounter the outer layer that talks of viraha or longing due to separation from her Lord. Since she considered herself Krishna’s bride, she isolated herself in her cocoon of Hari bhakti and tuned in to the call of her heart — which is where her Hari lives. There is deep understanding of the Formless Absolute, even as she sang of (and to) a Krishna who wears yellow silk robes and the vanamali garland and cavorts with the gopis of Gokul.

Raji P. Shrivastava can be contacted at raji_1992@yahoo.co.in