About Dula Bhaya Kag

He was one whose poetry, voice, and storytelling formed a triveni sangam—a sacred confluence—and whose creativity was hailed as "a new journey blending the strength of tradition, with its soul rooted in truth and the maxim of speaking and acting as it is." Celebrated with words like "prabodhak swatantrya usha bhavya boli Kagvani" (the awakening dawn of freedom, the majestic voice of Kagvani), Dula Bhaya Kag stood as a Kabirvad—a mighty banyan—in Saurashtra’s folk literature, his entire life a testament to being a saint, poet, and seeker.

About Dula Bhaya Kag

The Harmony of Saint and Poet

A saint and a poet share equal virtues. A saint is a saint through all eight watches of the day, while a poet turns saintly when crafting verses. A poet may write countless poems, but only those born of a saintly spirit live forever. Poet Tribhuvan Vyas penned many songs, yet "Dhanya ho dhanya Saurashtra dharani!" (Blessed, blessed Saurashtra’s land!) became immortal. Another poet, "Pranshankar Yogi," wrote much, but only one touched hearts—"Mahelna mahelthi vahali amne amari zumpadi" (Dearer to us than palaces is our little hut). The reason being that while composing these, they must have plunged deeper into a saintly nature than when crafting their other works! In Kag Bapu, both resided. He was a saint refined by penance, and a poet of gentle inspiration too. This is why, in the realm of folk literature, we can see him as "ardhama ekla" (alone in the midst).

Early Life and Struggles

Born to an unlettered mother, in a village where none knew learning, with just a smattering of broken education, yet Kag Bapu became a "Padmashri," a pinnacle figure of India. Without any training, he enthralled thousands upon lakhs with his poetic might, his voice, and a throat deep and steady as the sea, imprinting his persona on thousands and turning even more toward life’s noble path. Can we deem all this a minor deed? The late Meghani wrote: "To my eyes, Dula Kag’s true poetry lies in his life’s path." That ideal and worshipful life-path, and the honeyed verses that dripped while traveling it, whatever he himself wrote about it with his own pen on occasion, an effort has been made here to compile in his very words.

Birth and Ancestral Legacy

Kag Bapu’s father, when his sister became a widow, went to tend her fields in Sodvadari for a time; during that stay, on Kartik Vad 11 of Vikram Samvat 1959, 25 November 1903, Kag Bapu’s birth took place in that Sodvadari village. What’s in the seed alone comes to the tree. Bijal Kavi, from the 13th century, was Dula Bhaya’s ancestor in the 39th generation. A poet of such spirited verse that if a head was demanded, a head was gained. Through poetry, he brought back King Diyas’s head. All praised with "vah vah," and then Bijal Kavi entered the pyre with that head.

Poet Bijal had three sons. Kag Sur was the youngest among them. In Kag Sur’s lineage came Shamla Kag. He turned a hundred horses, wielded the sword’s dance, and whoever sat on his scales, he redeemed. Kag Sur’s 36th generation bore Zhala Kag, living in Gir, tending cattle. In famine, the cattle were wiped out! No means to even eat were found. Who would give a daughter to such a poor Zhala Kag? At thirty-two or thirty-three, in a state of scraping by to fill his belly, Zhala Kag came to Majadar village. With him, in household goods, two buffaloes and one calf, that alone his kingdom and throne! The calf bore the household, and the buffalo his livelihood!

Family Background

Here, a Charan lineage, the Giyad Ardu branch, spanned 25 villages. But the rule was such that in one branch, a daughter isn’t given, nor taken. It was Majadar’s Jaho Ardu (Gadhavi), a renowned bold man, in whose sight, Zhala Kag settled. He gave him 40 vighas of land and a daughter. That daughter’s son, Bhaya Kag, Dula Kag’s father, hailed from "Majadar," a hamlet of seventeen hovels, a mile and a half from the famed Pipavav temple—founded by Pipa Bhagat who preached "Pipa paap na kijiye" (Pipa, commit no sin)—near Port Albert Victor on Saurashtra’s southern seacoast, his native land.

Childhood and Inspiration

In shaping and building a person, the impressions of mother and father, childhood companions, the surrounding environment—rivers, hills, temples—all play a part. His keen curiosity in childhood found nourishment in stories. Bhaya Kag too could spin a fine tale. Often, visiting guest Charans and Barots told stories that young Dula listened to with relish. Victor’s school was the nearest to him, and he wrote: "I studied Gujarati up to five books at Victor’s school."

"At thirteen, I was herding cows. My father had about sixty cows, and some thirty buffaloes too. Since childhood, I’d taken a liking to herding cows. Barefoot and without a turban on my head, I’d herd them. In Majadar, with its grazing pastures, even Pipavav and Zolapar, within that village’s bounds, the cows would go to graze. The whole day I’d spend in the wilds. I’d carry the Ramayana book with me and read it all day. The Ramayana had sunk right into my bones. At that young age, my legs would tire from walking behind the cows. Water too had to be drawn from wells to drink. Though my father hadn’t forced me to herd cows—it was my own passion."

Family Life and Responsibilities

"My father was displeased with this. Because the household management was vast. Five plows ran at our home. Small and large pots, buffaloes, cows, camels, goats, oxen—about a hundred and twenty-five livestock in all. Dealings were plentiful too. Many relations around. Guests aplenty as well. Not a day passed without guests arriving. My father was considered a steadfast man of that time. A man of influence. His demeanor was such that his authority rested on others. Back then, cattle thefts were rampant. If a poor man’s cattle were stolen, he’d rush straight to Majadar seeking help. I clearly remember, whether it was sowing season or harvest time, or even if someone at home was ill, my father would drop everything, mount his horse, and not return until he’d tracked down that poor man’s cattle. Even big, notorious men feared him. And he maintained ties with such men too."

Social Challenges and Friendship

"My father’s direction was one way, while mine was herding cows and reading the Ramayana. So every time he saw me, he felt regret in his heart. The world around me—places like Sanganiya, Kantala, and others—were such that even if a friend or any man had an excuse, they’d be forcibly made to drink liquor, and that was seen as a mark of greatness." Dula Kag’s father tasked a relative from Sanganiya, Hipa Mobh, with getting Dula Kag to drink liquor and eat meat.

Kag Bapu writes: "Hipa Mobh called my father ‘uncle.’ But he was a very prosperous man. He ran twelve plows. Kept hundreds of livestock. Fifteen high-breed bullocks stayed tethered at his place. One night he called me over. We sat in our field by the roadside. Slowly, he started talking. I just said to him, ‘Good man! We’ve had ties for three generations, and from the mouth of a bold man like you, words to make a child like me drink liquor come out—that can’t be called good. A true friend is one who leads from a bad path to a good one. Besides, you’re an Ahir’s son, and you stand to make me, a Charan, drink—that doesn’t suit you.’ Those words of mine struck him deep. He told my father right away, ‘This hide isn’t raw; it’s dyed. So telling him to follow our path now is futile and a sin.’ After that, too, many moments passed trying to make me drink, but my friendship with Hipa Mobh grew day by day."

Passion for Poetry

"I’d already learned to compose poetry, so a new passion awoke in me—to write poetry for some court and win prizes and honors. To travel, visit fine courts—but that thorn sprouted, and my childhood friend Hipa Mobh uprooted it from the root. He called me and said, ‘Never beg for money anywhere, ever. Our homes are one and the same, so whenever you need money, come to Sanganiya. It wouldn’t look good for Bhaya Kag’s son to wander door to door. I’d stay in Sanganiya for months. Read the Ramayana and Mahabharata, chant the Lord’s name, and when I had to travel, I’d take money from there.’ The root of my aversion to begging is Hipa Mobh, because if I’d taken to that habit in childhood, who knows where I’d be today! Whether laughing or joking, that Ahir never spoke falsely, and whatever he said, he had to uphold—that was his life’s principle. My conduct pleased him greatly, so our friendship reached down to the bones. Later, even the women and sisters at his home wouldn’t shy away from me. For nine years, Hipa Mobh and I stayed together, and whenever I needed, he was the one man who met all my needs. So until I grew up, I didn’t have to wander elsewhere.”

Spiritual Guidance

Dula Kag said: ‘My mind had been drawn to devotion since I gained understanding. It was Posh month, Vad Teras, with a biting cold wind blowing. After bathing in Zolapari, I stepped out, and there on the bank stood a radiant saint. A grand forehead, saffron robe—he asked, “Son, do you want to learn poetry?” I said yes. He asked my name, my lineage. I told him everything. He said, “Come with me. I’ll teach you the mantra to charm snakes.” “I can’t do that. My father will get angry! These cows of mine won’t step out of the pasture without me,” I said.’"

"Chuckling softly, he said, ‘If your cows find a herdsman better than you, and your father hands you over to me, then what?’ Dula Kag went home. A laborer came looking for work herding cows, saw Dula, and said, ‘Are you giving up these cows?’ Hearing ‘Yes,’ even his father was surprised. Father and son went to Muktanandji, and Bhaya Kag handed Dula over to that saint. Dula Kag’s stalled education resumed. He began memorizing Vicharsagar, Panchadashi, and the Gita, and one day he said, ‘I must go to Kutch Bhuj. There, at Gorji’s Pingal school in Posal, poets ripen.’"

Muktanandji stretched out both hands and said, "Here is Bhuj, here is Posal. No need to go to Bhuj." He took young Dula’s ten fingers, entwined his own ten with them—eyes meeting eyes. Knees touching knees, he said, "Go, write savaiyas and bring them back." At seventeen, this brimming spring—this poetic stream—became a vast, mighty river.

Literary Journey and Relationships

Charans are singers of heroic valor. Be it a human’s valor or another creature’s! A Charan poet is meant to praise it. At Asodar, Dadabhai Gadhavi introduced him to Meghani as "Faatel Piyalano Kavi," and Dula Kag met Meghani in Bhavnagar at Shri Lakshminath Vyas’s place. In a short time, that meeting knotted into a bond. Shri Meghani writes, "In my eyes, Dulabhai the Charan, Dulabhai the poet, Dulabhai the devotee, Dulabhai the venerable—all faded away. Dulabhai became a bhai (brother)." "One incident from a trip to Tulsishyam stays vivid. A new mahant was being enthroned. A gathering of Garasia brothers from Babariyawad was held. Every day, they’d urge Dula Kag to take kasumbo (opium). Their ways of persuasion were unique—some pressed, some vented anger."

Diverse Roles in Life

Dulabhai resides in the whole world. His own autobiography lies before me, painting how he emerged, lived, and triumphed in that creation—a vivid, flavorful tale. He shed the wildness tied to his father’s name; his name, as a Charan, hovered between curse and reverence; his efforts to settle disputes that could’ve landed in criminal courts, saving naive villagers from law’s destructive path, stirred suspicion; standing amid the crooked, hidden currents of princely state bureaucracy, he faced trials to serve village welfare—these made Kag Bapu an enigma to many!

Spirituality and Social Awakening

From childhood, winds of spirituality blew through him; he mingled with swamis and sadhus; his heart bonded with pilgrimage sites like Pipavav and Tulsishyam; he knew Sanskrit scriptures and Puranas, yet lived steeped in the tradition-bound life of the village world—so layers of Sanatan culture climbed upon him, what wonder in that! Suddenly I learned that alongside Dula Kag’s ornate poetry, simple folk tunes were born too, and in those tunes, he poured poetry of new sentiment; even more astonishing, his poetry took on the piercing voice of the downtrodden—the pain-filled question of the touched and untouched.

"All these new poems, brother! Our village folk love them. They listen with rapt attention, splitting their cheeks. I weave in examples here and there. Because of this, feelings against the crooked and broken have lessened greatly." In these words, Dula Kag explained his poetry’s fresh religious duty.

National Sentiment in Folk Songs

These aren’t just songs but new narratives woven into songs. India’s national sentiments, the motherland’s heartache, Kag Bapu cast into small poetic tales. The Ganga-stream of national awakening flowing through the land—local leaders channel its smaller streams to their people. Kag Bapu diverted the sacred waters of that national Ganga through a Kashya-stream to his homeland. It may not swiftly sprout new crops in life’s parched, scorched fields, but a Charan heart’s poetry, instead of sinking into royal courtly praise, pours into the garden of national sentiment—a matter of pride for every poetry lover.

Folk Language and Literature

Literature and language are a people’s Ganga. Its currents flow free. They bow to no interference. Alongside Sanskrit, the masses embraced the folk tongue—the Prakrit voice of common people—for literary creation. The beloved Charan poets of that era sided with this folk-Prakrit tongue. They poured their emotions, thoughts, people’s aspirations, and imaginations into this dear, familiar folk tongue, wielding their Saraswati and strength, and thus grew even dearer to the masses.

The Power of Poetry and Change

What’s written today turns false tomorrow. A man seen today becomes a woman by dawn. Today’s crowned king turns pauper tomorrow. Today’s prisoners become rulers the next day. Today’s wise turn mad by morning. Today’s poet gains folly tomorrow. Today’s captive scales freedom’s peak to touch the sky by tomorrow. Amid such moment-to-moment shifts—what of yesterday? What of the Gita? What of stories? They’re all shores of stillness, untouched by time. In this churn of coincidence, a friend Meghani’s voice from within—"Write duhas, write the timeless"—made me take pen in hand for duhas. Duhas were written, but where are the readers? Alongside, songs of revered Mahatma’s episodes were penned as per my understanding too.

Influence of Bhudan and Devotion

The Bhoodan movement sparked a gleam in me; from those waves, a share of Vinobaji and Bhoodan songs flowed from my mind’s soil. But revered Ravishankar Maharaj became the idol of my worship. A poet is such that the letters etched on his heart’s slate can’t stay hidden. They spill out, and the people claim them. In five hundred years of Charan literature’s history, no other poet, scholar, or writer has set foot. Such is that literature. Just as Vedic Sanskrit’s grammar differs from other Sanskrit, so too Charan literature’s essence, meter, rhythms, songs, prosody, and word-weaving stand apart. Charan sorathas, duhas, sapakharas, and savajda songs—no other poets have penned them yet. True or false, Charan poets carry a unique pride in this.

Humility and Final Days

Despite wielding wondrous poetic power, see his humility: "Nagar na hai mein kavyasagar na ho mein Kag"—I’m neither a city-dweller nor a poetic ocean. But—"Gauvan charata lakutiko kar dharike"—a Charan herding cows with a simple staff. "Kanan firyo mein namak aarogye sada"—I roamed forests, ever chanting the name for health. "Gaye charanar Charan chhu"—I’m a Charan herding cows. Barefoot, bareheaded, tending them, the fruit of that service came to me as poetic offering. After 1968, his physical health faltered. Yet his mental clarity stayed pristine till the very end. Sitting, no one would guess Kag Bapu was ill. His voice still rang with the same vigor.

Legacy of Immortality

How can we say this radiant life ended on Falgun Sud 4, Vikram Samvat 2033, 22 February 1977? Poets live forever through their verses. Bapu’s poetic nectar is so vast, its waters won’t ever dry.