A Review by Pradeep Trikha

Title: Bhakti Agadh Anant
Edited by Madhav Hada
Co-published by Rajpal and Sons, Delhi & Raza Foundation, New Delhi (2025)
Price: Rs. 1599 (Paperback) | Rs. 2299 (Hardbound)

In an era where cultural narratives are often fragmented by regional, linguistic, and ideological divides, Bhakti Agadh Anant (translated loosely as Devotion: Boundless and Infinite) emerges as a monumental anthology that seeks to weave together the diverse threads of India’s devotional heritage. Edited by the eminent scholar Madhav Hada and published by Rajpal & Sons, and The Raza Foundation in New Delhi. The event, graced by luminaries such as poet-critic Ashok Vajpeyi and literary scholar Purushottam Agrawal, underscored the book’s role in rekindling a unified understanding of Bhakti – not as a mere historical “movement” but as an enduring, pluralistic consciousness that has permeated Indian society since pre-Vedic times.

Vajpeyi, in his remarks, emphasised the book’s timeliness, noting how it highlights the dignity of the individual in Bhakti poetry, a theme that resonates deeply in contemporary discussions on personal freedom and spiritual expression.

Spanning over 500 pages (based on descriptions from promotional materials), Bhakti Agadh Anant compiles the works of 50 saint-devotees from across India, covering a chronological arc from the 6^th century to the 20^th century. This is no ordinary anthology; it is a deliberate effort to transcend the North Indian-centric view of Bhakti, which has figures like Kabir, Tulsidas, Surdas, and Jayasi. Instead, Hada’s curation illuminates the broader, nationwide scope of devotional consciousness, drawing from regions as varied as Tamil Nadu, Karnataka, Maharashtra, Gujarat, Punjab, Kashmir, Bengal, Odisha, Assam, and the Northeast. The book’s subtitle – “Indian Bhakti Poetry Anthology” – aptly captures its ambition: to present Bhakti as an agadh (unfathomable) and anant (endless) ocean of spiritual expression, responsive to historical, cultural, and social needs over millennia.

At its core, the book challenges the notion of Bhakti as a singular revolution or a preoccupation with the afterlife. As articulated in the editor’s introduction, Bhakti has always been a living, adaptive force, addressing earthly concerns such as human suffering, social injustices, and communal harmony. It is portrayed as a pluralistic tradition, born from the independent voices of saints and devotees who expressed freedom in diverse forms. This plurality is evident in the anthology’s structure: it begins with a detailed essay on the identity, scope, and classification of Indian devotional consciousness, setting the stage for the selected works. Each saint-devotee is introduced with a concise biography that weaves in their life stories, devotional philosophies, and poetic commentaries. Notably, the editor preserves miraculous folk tales integral to these biographies, recognising them as cultural artefacts that reflect the societal milieu in which these figures emerged.

The chronological arrangement adds a historical depth, starting with Appar (Tirunavukkarasar), the 6^th-century Tamil Shaivite saint whose fervent hymns to Shiva mark the early stirrings of organised Bhakti in South India. From there, the anthology journeys through medieval luminaries like Basavanna and Akka Mahadevi from Karnataka’s Veerashaiva tradition, the Alvars and Nayanars of Tamil Nadu, and extends to Marathi saints like Tukaram and Namdev, Gujarati poets, Punjabi Sufi-influenced devotees, Kashmiri mystics like Lal Ded, and Eastern figures from Bengal, Odisha, and Assam. It culminates in modern voices such as Rabindranath Tagore and Suryakant Tripathi ‘Nirala’, bridging ancient devotion with twentieth-century literary expressions. This timeline not only traces Bhakti’s evolution but also highlights its interactions across regions – for instance, how South Indian Bhakti influenced North Indian saints, or how Northeastern traditions enriched the broader discourse.

One of the book’s most innovative aspects is its linguistic inclusivity. While centred in Hindi, it incorporates works from Kannada, Tamil, Marathi, Gujarati, Punjabi, Kashmiri, Bengali, Oriya, and Assamese. For non-Hindi originals, Hada provides paraphrases or adaptations into Hindi, often crafted by himself based on multiple sources, including English translations. This approach ensures accessibility for a Hindi-speaking audience, which has historically been underserved in comprehensive Bhakti compilations. For example, translations of Basavanna’s Vachanas draw from M.M. Kulburgi’s edition, while Alvar saints such as Andal and Shathakopan are adapted from Pandit Srinivas Raghavan’s Hindi version of the Divya Prabandham. Kashmiri poet Lal Ded’s Vaakhs are rendered using transliterations and translations by scholars like Jayalal Kaul and Shiben Krishna Raina. Similarly, Assamese excerpts from Shankardev’s Kirtan Ghosha and Oriya selections from Balaram Das’s Jagmohan Ramayana are credited to Navarun Verma and Yogeshwar Tripathi Yogi, respectively.

Hada’s methodology is rigorous: he avoids sole reliance on single sources, opting instead for selections that stay faithful to the originals and capture the saints’ core concerns. This is particularly evident in the treatment of languages like Braj Bhasha (a blend of Braj and Eastern dialects used by Bengali, Assamese, and Oriya devotees), which adds a layer of hybridity to the anthology. The editor’s gratitude to a pantheon of scholars – from Rahul Sankrityayan and Hazari Prasad Dwivedi to contemporary figures like Mukund Lath and K. Ayyappa Panikkar – underscores the collaborative scholarly effort behind the book. Institutions such as the Nagari Pracharini Sabha, Bhuvan Vani Trust, and Sahitya Akademi are acknowledged for their roles in preserving and publishing these texts.

In analysing the book’s contributions, it’s impossible to overlook its corrective lens on historical narratives. Bhakti, as Hada argues, has suffered from a lack of unified identity due to India’s linguistic diversity and colonial epistemological biases. Colonial scholars often compartmentalised Bhakti into regional “movements,” diminishing its pan-Indian essence. Bhakti Agadh Anant counters this by demonstrating Bhakti’s widespread presence: more robust in South India than the North, influential in Maharashtra and Gujarat, and profoundly impactful in the East and Northeast. This nationwide perspective is revolutionary, especially in Hindi literature, where Bhakti has been disproportionately linked to Hindi-speaking regions. As Purushottam Agrawal noted at the launch, the anthology is a pioneering work in Hindi, encompassing most major saint-devotees from Indian languages and challenging preconceived ideals of devotion.

Thematically, the anthology excels in portraying Bhakti as a humanistic tradition. It emphasises how devotees addressed worldly anxieties alongside spiritual quests – themes of equality, critique of caste, love for the divine, and social reform recur across selections. For instance, the folk tales preserved in biographies serve as “cultural language,” revealing how myths shaped societal values. This humanises the saints, showing them not as ethereal figures but as products of their environments. The representative nature of the selections – only a few works per saint – ensures breadth over depth, making the book an ideal entry point for readers seeking an overview rather than exhaustive studies.

Yet, no work of this scale is without limitations. The reliance on adaptations and paraphrases, while necessary for cohesion, inevitably risks diluting the poetic nuances of original languages. Tamil’s rhythmic fervour or Kashmiri’s mystical subtlety may not fully translate into Hindi, potentially alienating purists who prefer untranslated texts. Moreover, as a representative collection, it omits deeper dives into lesser-known devotees, focusing on canonical figures. This could perpetuate a hierarchy within Bhakti traditions, sidelining marginalised voices from tribal or folk Bhakti streams. Additionally, while the book nods to interactions between regions, it could explore syncretic elements – like Sufi-Bhakti overlaps – more explicitly to address contemporary debates on religious harmony.

Despite these quibbles, the strengths far outweigh the shortcomings. Bhakti Agadh Anant is a labour of love and scholarship, filling a void in Hindi devotional literature. Vajpeyi’s observation that Bhakti poets operated without rigid ideals, drawing from lived experiences, aligns with the anthology’s ethos of pluralism. In a polarised world, this book reminds us that devotion is not dogmatic but adaptive, fostering unity through diversity. On a broader level, Bhakti Agadh Anant invites reflection on India’s cultural identity. By compiling voices from across centuries and geographies, it counters narratives of cultural fragmentation, offering a counterpoint to modern identity politics. For students of literature, history, and religion, it serves as a vital resource; for general readers, it’s an inspiring journey into the soul of India. Madhav Hada’s editorial vision – meticulous, inclusive, and reverent – ensures that this anthology will endure as a beacon for future explorations of Bhakti.

In conclusion, Bhakti Agadh Anant is more than a collection; it’s a testament to the infinite depths of devotion that have sustained India through the ages. At a time when cultural reconnection is imperative, this book stands as an essential read, bridging past and present with grace and insight. Highly recommended for anyone seeking to grasp the boundless spirit of Indian spirituality.