Born in Rajisthan a land of warriors and sages, sadhus and kings, but also instability and sorrow, Mirabai showed great devotion for Lord Krishna in her childhood years. One day, a holy man came to her family’s palace and was carrying a small image of Krishna. Knowing that Mirabai would appreciate it, her mother brings her the little statue of Krishna. As the wandering sage left the palace he took his image of Krishna with him. Mirabai was very upset – in fact for days she lost her appetite and was very sad. But after a few days the sadhu returned. The night before, he explained, Krishna had appeared to him in a dream, telling him to return the image to Mira!

Mira grew up to be a beautiful young lady, and was duly married to the warrior Prince Bhoj, and went to live at his palace. However, despite being a devoted and dutiful wife, devotion to Lord Krishna was always foremost on her mind, which annoyed the family of her husband. Uda, her sister in law was most annoyed at Mira’s ways. They tried to stop her from visiting the temple. Prince Bhoj came to accept his wife’s nature, and thought of her as a great devotee of the Lord. He built her a small Krishna temple within the palace. However, for company with other devotees, Mira still sought to go to the village temple. She became acquainted with the great saint Ravidas, who was a humble shoemaker by profession, and learnt much about aspects of religion that she did not know about through him. She considered Ravidas her spiritual preceptor (Guru). Although her in-laws were becoming enraged with her behaviour, several of them could see their was something very special about her. Ravidas is turn was very impressed and moved by the intensity of her devotion to Krishna. He brought her a sitar with his own meager resources, which she used to compose and play soul stirring devotional songs to all who would listen. Through her songs Mirabai’s fame grew exceedingly, spreading far and wide throughout India. Even the Moghul Emporer Akbar (who was tolerant unlike other fanatical Moghul rulers, even renouncing Islam) came to visit her, and was so moved by her songs that he gave her a precious necklace.

Meanwhile, Prince Bhoj, Mirabai’s husband was killed in battle, against the predatory Moghuls. Bhoj’s cousin seizes the throne, who was one member of the family who had harboured dislike for Mirabai. Finding Akbar’s necklace, he accused Mirabai of being a traitor. He confined her to her room, and ordered her precious image of Krishna to be thrown into the river. She still had her devotion to Krishna, but was distraught at not being able to be amongst her fellow devotees and resented being locked in a confined space. She is believed to have write to Tulsidas, who advised her to attempt to leave, which Mirabai did so. Mira’s sister-in-law, Uda had grown fond of Mira over time and was very saddened by Mira’s departure.

Mira roamed India in devotion to her beloved Lord Krishna. She could see Krishna everywhere and in everything, and her songs describe her rapture in this vision. She grew very famous and loved. This enraged the king, the cousin of Mira’s husband Bhoj’s. He was determined now that Mira should die. Many attempts were subsequently made on Mira’s life, none of which bore fruit, due to her unfathomable love and trust in Krishna.

Selections from Mira bai’s works:

Priceless Gift (pâyo jî)

I have found, yes, I have found the wealth of the Divine Name’s gem.
My true guru gave me a priceless thing. With his grace, I accepted it.
I found the capital of my several births; I have lost the whole rest of the world.
No one can spend it, no one can steal it. Day by day it increases one and a quarter times.
On the boat of truth, the boatman was my true guru. I came across the ocean of existence.
Mira’s Lord is the Mountain-Holder, the suave lover, of whom I merrily, merrily sing.

I Will Dance (citanandana âge nâcûngî)

I will dance before the Consciousness-Charmer.
Having danced and danced, I will please my enjoyer. I will feel my lover.
I will tie on the ankle bells of love and affection. I will wear the dancing-garment of His Face.
Worldly modesty, family honor—I will not care for either of these.
I will go and lie in the bed of my beloved. I, Mira, will dye myself in Hari’s color.

Oh Oh I’m Love-Crazy (he rî maim to prema dîvânî)

Oh oh! I’m love-crazy. No one knows my pain.
My bed is over the gallows. How could I sleep?
My lover’s bed is in heaven’s mandala. How could I get to him?
The one who is wounded knows what a wound means, what it means to be burned.
The jeweler knows what it means to be a jeweler, what it means to have a jewel.
Afflicted by pain, I wander from forest to forest. Can’t get a doctor.
O Lord, Mira’s torment will be wiped out when the doctor is the Dark Lover.

Torn in Shreds (mere to giridhara gupâla)

Mine is Gopal, the Mountain-Holder; there is no one else.
On his head he wears the peacock-crown: He alone is my husband.
Father, mother, brother, relative: I have none to call my own.
I’ve forsaken both God, and the family’s honor: what should I do?
I’ve sat near the holy ones, and I’ve lost shame before the people.
I’ve torn my scarf into shreds; I’m all wrapped up in a blanket.
I took off my finery of pearls and coral, and strung a garland of wildwood flowers.
With my tears, I watered the creeper of love that I planted;
Now the creeper has grown spread all over, and borne the fruit of bliss.
The churner of the milk churned with great love.
When I took out the butter, no need to drink any buttermilk.
I came for the sake of love-devotion; seeing the world, I wept.
Mira is the maidservant of the Mountain-Holder: now with love He takes me across to the further shore.

The Divine Name (râma nâma rasa pîjai)

Drink the nectar of the Divine Name (Rama), O human! Drink the nectar of the Divine Name!
Leave the bad company, always sit among righteous company. Hearken to the mention of God (for your own sake).
Concupiscence, anger, pride, greed, attachment: wash these out of your consciousness.
Mira’s Lord is the Mountain-Holder, the suave lover. Soak yourself in the dye of His color.

Holi Raining Colors of Bhakti (sîla santoSha kî kesara gholî)

The saffron of virtue and contentment
Is dissolved in the water-gun of love and affection.
Pink and red clouds of emotion are flying about,
Limitless colors raining down.
All the covers of the earthen vessel of my body are wide open;
I have thrown away all shame before the world.
Mira’s Lord is the Mountain-Holder, the suave lover.
I sacrifice myself in devotion to His lotus feet.

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