Every July, Maharashtra moves to a beat like no other. Along dry highways and monsoon-drenched trails, thousands of Wari pilgrims sing as they walk toward Pandharpur, feet blistered, hearts lifted. Among the many songs that rise into the dusty air, one Abhang carries a special kind of power. It’s simple, visual, unforgettable:
“Sukhache je sukh Chandrabhage tati
Pundalika pathi ubhe thake…”
The joy beyond all joys is found on the banks of the Chandrabhaga—
There the Lord stands behind His devotee, Pundalik.
Pause on that image. The Lord of the Universe—Vitthala—is not enthroned or exalted. He’s waiting. Quietly. On a brick. Behind a man who’s doing his chores. It’s a visual that lodges in the heart like a parable. What kind of God waits? What kind of spirituality praises that waiting?
This abhang, composed centuries ago by the 14th Century poet-saint Chokhamela, continues to be sung by millions. It's short enough to memorize, rhythmic enough to chant, and deep enough to teach for a lifetime. Its power lies not just in theology but in common sense, social equity, and emotional clarity.
Before we dive into meanings, here’s the original in Romanized Marathi:
Sukhache je sukh Chandrabhage tati
Pundalika pathi ubhe thake
Sajire gojire samacharani ubhe
Bhaktachiya lobhe vitevari
Kar doni kati Shreemukh changale
Shankh chakra miravale gada-padma
Chokha mhane shobhe Vaijayanti
Kanthi chandanachi uti sarv angi
Meaning:
The joy beyond all joys is found on the banks of the Chandrabhaga—
There the Lord stands behind His devotee, Pundalik.
Gracefully adorned, feet together, He stands still on a simple brick,
Holding Himself there out of love for His devotee.
Hands on His hips, His face shines with auspicious beauty.
He displays the conch, discus, mace and lotus—the full insignia of Vishnu.
Chokhamela says: He is radiant, wearing the Vaijayanti garland,
Sandal paste marks and perfumes Him—His entire divine form aglow.
Chokhamela was born into the Mahar community—regarded as “untouchable” in the caste hierarchy of his time. He likely would not have been allowed inside the temple whose deity he worshipped so dearly. But Bhakti poetry is subversive. It bypasses gates. His voice, like others in the Varkari tradition, entered hearts rather than halls.
That’s what makes this abhang radical. When a socially excluded devotee sings of a God who stands behind a human—loving, waiting, serving—that’s not just poetry. That’s protest. It rewrites hierarchy. In Chokhamela’s world, love outranks lineage. God has no ego, and devotion has no caste.
The genius of the abhang form lies in its design: short, singable, communal, portable. It was made to be walked with, worked with, lived with. Abhangs are for everyone – right from the illiterate farmer in the remotest of villages to the elite . They do not require credentials—only feeling.
The lines carry vivid images. Vitthala stands with feet together, hands on hips, balanced, calm. He’s adorned with divine weapons—Shankha, Chakra, Gada, Padma—but they don’t frighten. They comfort. His beauty doesn’t awe; it invites.This is a God who’s not somewhere else. He’s here—on the dusty road, in your daily duties, standing on a brick behind you.
The lore behind this image deepens the message. In the Varkari tradition, Pundalik is a devoted son, caring for his elderly parents. When the Lord arrives, Pundalik doesn’t leap up or run to worship. Instead, he tosses a brick and says, “Wait.”
Vitthala waits.
He does not storm off. He does not punish. He stands—with patience, with pride.
What a profound teaching! That caregiving is worship. That duty isn’t a distraction from God—it’s the very place God is found.
For today’s reader, the analogy is immediate. Parenting, elder care, balancing deadlines with compassion—these aren’t obstacles to spirituality. They are spirituality. Chokhamela’s image honors love-in-action. And that’s why it still moves us.
Each couplet in this abhang encodes a life principle. Not abstract philosophy, but earthy, applicable wisdom. Village advice wrapped in song.
1. “Sukhache je sukh Chandrabhage tati”
The deepest joy is communal.
Real happiness lives where people come together for a shared purpose.
2. “Pundalika pathi ubhe thake”
God stands behind those who serve.
Show up for your duties, and life stands behind you.
3. “Sajire gojire samacharani ubhe”
Vitthala stands balanced and poised.
Composure is beauty. Steadiness itself is divine.
4. “Bhaktachiya lobhe vitevari”
He waits—on a brick—for love.
True love doesn’t insist on ceremony. It meets you where you are.
5. “Kar doni kati Shreemukh changale”
Hands on hips, radiant and relaxed.
Confidence can be calm. Leadership doesn’t need to dominate.
6. “Shankh chakra miravale gada-padma”
He carries Vishnu’s full regalia.
Gentleness isn’t weakness. Strength can smile.
7. “Chokha mhane shobhe Vaijayanti”
The garland of victory shines on Him.
Service is the real triumph. Glory follows humility.
8. “Kanthi chandanachi uti sarv angi”
He’s perfumed in sandalwood.
Love beautifies the beloved. We shine when seen with love.
The Wari pilgrimage isn’t just a religious act. It’s a moving society. Rich and poor, men and women, Brahmin and Dalit, all chant the same songs side by side. Caste lines blur when you’ve walked 200 kilometers on the same feet and eaten from the same pot.
In that sense, this abhang isn’t just about a waiting God. It’s about the kind of world we want to live in—one where love, duty, and humility matter more than status or ritual. It gives dignity to the humble, and humility to the powerful.
So the next time you find yourself torn—between helping someone and rushing to a ritual, between a quiet duty and a shiny spiritual performance—pause.
Picture Vitthala. Standing quietly on a brick. Behind you. Smiling. Waiting.
Not because you’re ignoring God, but because you’re doing something that is God’s work.
That, Chokhamela reminds us, is what the Divine looks like—graceful, patient, and already with you.
“He even stands on a brick—because the devotee asked.”
What a God! What a song!
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