I am not a Hindu,
Nor a Muslim am I!
Once a neighbouring sultan visited Benares, the king, an admirer of Kabir, was persuaded to summon the poet for the sultan’s inspection.
To the shock of all present, Kabir, rather than bowing and humbling himself, merely offered a common greeting no different than he would to any man. When asked to explain his behaviour, Kabir noted that there is only one king in the world — God. “Within the Hindu and the Muslim,” he added, “dwells the same God.”
The sultan, although not entirely a noble ruler, saw something in Kabir’s remarks. He was impressed by Kabir’s candor. He knew that it was no ordinary man who stood before him, but a true lover of God. Kabir’s transgressions were dismissed.
It was however the priests, both Hindu and Muslim, who, in alliance, campaigned and organized a case against the poet-saint. Assembling allies and witnesses in a political move against Kabir, who they felt was threatening their authority in the community, they forced him to return to the court to face trial. On his return, Kabir only smiled. “All my life,” he began, “I have tried to impress upon the Hindus and Muslims that God is one, the Father of both. I pleaded with them to join hands in worshipping the Lord of All, but they rejected my plea. They could never stand together in the court of the King of kings, but today it amuses me to see them standing united in the court of a worldly king, a mortal like all others.”
This was too much. The united front of the Muslim and Hindu “holy men” convinced the sultan of Kabir’s guilt as a heretic. Kabir was sentenced to death by drowning, but when thrown to the river his chain broke and Kabir floated away unharmed. The charge of magician was added and Kabir was set out to be trampled by an elephant, but the animal would not cooperate. “In its heart, too,” Kabir explained, “dwells the Lord.” Not to give up in defeat, the conspirators put Kabir to a fire. This time, however, he emerged, it is said, emitting a divine radiance.
Everyone was speechless in awe, including the sultan. To his credit, the sultan ordered Kabir freed of his ties. He approached the poet with remorse and guilt. “I did not realize your greatness,” he said at last. “Please forgive me.” He stood before the saint, eyes downcast, awaiting his judgement.
“You are not at fault,” Kabir said with the graciousness only possible in a saint. “Such was the will of God. Look up, O Sultan. Don’t feel sad. Forget what has happened. The Lord is all love and mercy. In His court true repentance never goes unrewarded.”
As Kabir says, “Forgiveness is a game that only the saints play.”
Like Gnyaneshwara before him and Guru Nanak and Sai Baba of Shirdi, who were to follow, Kabir strove for the One Truth. He described himself as the son of both Ram and Allah:
I am not a Hindu,
Nor a Muslim am I!
I am this body, a play
Of five elements; a drama
Of the spirit dancing
With joy and sorrow
Kabir urged introspection:
You were born on Earth as human,
Why are you in slumber now?
Take care of yourself;
Yourself is what you have to know.
The learned pundit gives discourse,
Not knowing God is near;
He does not know God dwells in him,
So seeks him here and there.