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Chapter 17 : Saint Mahipati and the Place of Women in the Wari
- Jul 24
- 4 min read
From Ladoba Prakashan's book 'Sant Mahipati by Dattatrey Naikwade
Once, during his travels, Saint Mahipati Maharaj sojourned in the village of Somvasha Jawale. As evening descended, a vast multitude gathered to partake in the night's kirtan and seek the holy darshan of the saint.
In that very village resided a pious, virtuous woman trapped within a deeply unsympathetic household. Her husband harbored a fierce aversion to bhajans and kirtans. Consumed by a desperate, soul-deep longing to attend the saint's discourse, she mustered the courage to voice her wish to her husband. He met her plea with brutal, chilling harshness:
"If you are so desperate for kirtans, go and live in Pandhari itself! If you wish to manage this household properly, never entangle yourself with these saints. Has anyone ever prospered by running after holy men? On the contrary, those who chase after God only ruin their lives! If you dare step foot in that assembly, I shall break your very legs!"
With this savage threat ringing in the air, he turned away and fell into a heavy sleep.
For a devout soul, living in the home of an ungodly man is akin to a gentle cow trapped within a tiger's den. Weeping in silent agony, the woman communed with her soul:
"O Lord of Pandhari, having received this rare human birth, what heavy sin bars me from tasting the nectar of your service and kirtans? Why must my in-laws and my husband treat me thus?"
Yet, even through her tears, a higher wisdom stirred within her: Had her mother-in-law not tormented her, her soul might have slumbered forever in the trivial attachments of worldly life, never awakening to the remembrance of God.
Today was Ekadashi, and Saint Mahipati Maharaj’s kirtan echoed through the village.
"This mortal frame is fleeting; it must turn to dust one day. Who knows if ever again in this lifetime the holy presence of a saint will grace our village? If death should claim me while I sit listening to the hymns of Hari, I shall consider myself supremely blessed!"
With this absolute, unshakeable resolve, she slipped out into the night and made her way to the temple, seating herself quietly among the women.
The Transformative Voice of the Saint
The Maharaj stood before the gathering, chanting the glorious lives of the saints. Only a saint can truly fathom the majesty of another saint. As the sacred tales flowed from Mahipati’s lips, her parched heart and soul drank deeply of the divine nectar, finding utter fulfillment.
Meanwhile, back at the home, her husband abruptly awoke. He turned to his mother, demanding, "Where is your daughter-in-law?"
With venomous anger, the mother snapped back, "She must have gone to the kirtan! Can you not even keep watch over your own wife?"
Consumed by blind rage, the husband stormed toward the temple, but the sheer density of the crowd locked him out, rendering him powerless. When the kirtan concluded and the devotees pressed forward for darshan, the woman stood among them. With tears streaming down her face, she bowed before the Maharaj and poured out the tragedy of her domestic life:
"Today, listening to the sacred stories of the saints, my life has found its supreme fulfillment. Yet, alas, this blessed darshan shall likely be my last."
Hearing these agonizing words, the heart of the saint—tender as fresh butter—dissolved in boundless compassion. The Maharaj looked upon her with infinite gentleness and said:
"Child, do not fear. He who inflicts terror is also the ultimate dispeller of all dread. This dark cloud hanging over you shall soon dissolve."
The Wrath of the Household and the Grace of the Saint
Bowing in deep reverence, the woman turned her steps toward home, her husband walking closely behind her like a shadow. The moment they crossed the threshold, the husband's fury erupted into a terrifying storm. Gritting his teeth, he screamed:
"Did I not forbid you? Halt, I shall shatter your legs this very instant!"
Together, the mother-in-law and the husband fell upon her with blows. The neighbors, paralyzed by terror, dared not intervene.
News of the brutality reached the ears of Saint Mahipati Maharaj, and he instantly set forth toward the house. Meanwhile, the father-in-law awoke, roaring to his son:
"Let this wretched woman never cross our threshold again—break her limbs and be done with it!"
The mother-in-law seized the trembling woman by her ankles, while the husband lunged forward, brandishing a heavy iron axe.
At that precise moment, the radiant figure of Saint Mahipati Maharaj stepped across their courtyard.
The sight of the serene, fearless saint struck the raging husband with sudden awe. Saints are utterly devoid of fear; their gaze overflows with mercy, and their speech drips with the nectar of love. Such is the sublime power of a saint's vision that even a ruthless highwayman like Valia could be transformed into the immortal sage Valmiki.
Gazing into the luminous, compassionate eyes of Saint Mahipati Maharaj, the husband’s boiling rage evaporated into sudden stillness.
With quiet authority, the Maharaj addressed the assembled family:
"Through the grace of your own accumulated past merits, a pure, divine soul like this woman has been granted to your household. Do not torment her; cherish her."
So profound was the spiritual resonance of the saint's voice that it pierced the hardened hearts of every member of that family, guiding their thoughts toward a new dawn of clarity. A deep wave of remorse washed over them. Their souls underwent a miraculous transformation; their rigid arrogance dissolved, and their entire nature shifted toward the divine. In time, that very same household became devoted pilgrims of the Wari, dancing rapturously in the ecstatic waves of the kirtan.
Through every step of his journey, Saint Mahipati Maharaj sought to engrave this timeless truth upon the heart of society: The sacred right to divine devotion belongs not merely to a privileged few, but equally to every human being—women, men, and all living creatures alike.
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