The first place in which we see this current in movement is the Maratha country. Here, about 1290, Jñānēśvara or Jñānadēva, popularly known as Jñānōbā, composed his Jñanēśvarī, a paraphrase of the Bhagavad-gītā in about 10,000 Marathi verses, as well as a number of hymns to Kṛishṇa and a poem on the worship of Śiva. To the same period belonged Nāmadēva, who was born at Pandharpur, according to some in 1270 and according to others about a century later. Then came Ēkanātha, who is said to have died in 1608, and composed some hymns and Marathi verse-translations from the Bhāgavata. The greatest of all was Tukārām, who was born about 1608.[32] In the verses of these poets the worship of Kṛishṇa is raised to a level of high spirituality. Rāmānanda, who apparently lived between 1400 and 1470 and was somehow connected with the school of Rāmānuja, preached salvation through Rāma to all castes and classes of Northern India, with immense and enduring success. To his spiritual lineage belongs Tulsī Dās (1532-1623), whose Rāma-charita-mānasa, a poem in Eastern Hindi on the story of Vālmīki's Rāmāyana, has become the Bible of the North. The same influences are visible in the poems of Kabīr, a Moslem by birth, who combined Hindu and Muhammadan doctrines into an eclectic monotheism, and is worshipped as an incarnation of God by his sect. He died in 1518. A kindred spirit was Nānak, the founder of the Sikh church (1469-1538).[33]
By the side of these upward movements there have been many which have remained on the older level of the Bhāgavata. The most important is that of Viśvambhara Miśra, who is better known by his titles of Chaitanya and Gaurānga (1485-1533); he carried on a "revival" of volcanic intensity in Bengal and Orissa, and the church founded by him is still powerful, and worships him as an incarnation of Kṛishṇa.
IV. Brahmā and the Trimūrti
Brahmā, the Creator, a masculine noun, must be carefully distinguished from the neuter Brahma, the abstract First Being. The latter comes first in the scale of existence, while the former appears at some distance further on as the creator of the material world (see above, p. 60 f.). In modern days Brahmā has been completely eclipsed by Vishṇu and Śiva and even by some minor deities, and has now only four temples dedicated to his exclusive worship.[34] But there was a time when he was a great god. In the older parts of the Mahābhārata and Rāmāyaṇa he figures as one of the greater deities, perhaps the greatest. But in the later portions of the epic he has shrunk into comparative insignificance as compared to Vishṇu and Śiva, and especially to Vishṇu. This change faithfully reflects historical facts. During the last four or five centuries of the millennium which ended with the Christian era the orthodox Vēdic religion of the Brahmans had steadily lost ground, and the sects worshipping Vishṇu and Śiva had correspondingly grown in power and finally had come to be recognised as themselves orthodox. Brahmā, as his name implies, is the ideal Brahman sage, and typifies Vēdic orthodoxy. He is represented as everlastingly chanting the four Vēdas from his four mouths (for he has four heads), and he bears the water-pot and rosary of eleocarpus berries, the symbols of the Brahman ascetic. But Vēdic orthodoxy had to make way for more fascinating cults, and the Vēdic Brahman typified in the god Brahmā sank into comparative unimportance beside the sectarian ascetics. Still the old god, though shorn of much of his glory, was by no means driven from the field. The new churches looked with reverence upon his Vēdas, and often claimed them as divine authority for their doctrines; and though each of them asserted that its particular god, Śiva or Vishṇu, was the Supreme Being, and ultimately the only being, both of them allowed Brahmā to retain his old office of creator, it being of course understood that he held it as a subordinate of the Supreme, Śiva or Vishṇu as the case might be. Meanwhile, at any rate between the third and the sixth centuries, there existed a small fraternity who regarded Brahmā as the Supreme, and therefore as identical with the abstract Brahma; but although they have left a record of their doctrines in the Mārkaṇḍēya-purāṇa and the Padma-purāṇa, they have had little influence on Indian religion in general.
A love of system—unfortunately not always effectual—is a notable feature of the Hindu mind in dealing with most subjects, from grammar to Ars Amoris; and this instinct inspired some unknown theologian with the idea of harmonising the three gods into a unity by representing in one compound form or Trimūrti Brahmā as creator, Vishṇu as the sustaining power in the universe, and Śiva as the force of dissolution which periodically brings the cosmos to an end and necessitates in due course new cycles of being.[35] This ingenious plan has the advantage that it is without prejudice to the religion of any of the gods concerned, for all the three members of this trinity are subordinate to the Supreme Being, or Param Brahma, whom the Vaishṇavas identify with Vishṇu in his highest phase, Para-Vāsudēva, and distinguish from his lower phase, the Vishṇu of this compound, while the Śaivas draw a corresponding distinction between Parama-Śiva, the god in his transcendent nature, and the Śiva who figures in the Trimūrti. So the most orthodox Vaishṇava and the most bigoted Śaiva can adore this three-headed image of the Trimūrti side by side with easy consciences.
This idea of the three gods in one, though it is embodied in some important works of sculpture such as the famous Trimūrti in the Caves of Elephanta, has not had much practical effect upon Hindu religion. But it has given birth to at any rate one interesting little sect, the worshippers of Dattātrēya, who are to be found mainly in the Maratha country. The legend of the saint Dattātrēya, which is already found in the Mahābhārata and Purāṇas and is repeated with some modifications and amplifications in modern works of the sect,[36] relates that when the holy Ṛishi Atri subjected himself to terrific austerities in order to obtain worthy progeny, the gods Brahmā, Vishṇu, and Śiva visited him and promised him the desired boon; accordingly his wife Anasūyā gave birth to three sons, of whom the first was the Moon, an incarnation of Brahmā, the second Dattātrēya, an incarnation of Vishṇu, and the third the holy but irascible saint Durvāsas, representing Śiva. Dattātrēya dwelt in a hermitage in the Dekkan: he indulged in marriage and wine-drinking, which however were not detrimental to his miraculous sanctity and wisdom, and he became famous as a benefactor to humanity. He is said to have lived in the time of Kārtavīrya Arjuna, the Haihaya king, and to have counselled the latter to remain on his throne when he wished to resign it. In older works of plastic art he is sometimes represented by the simple expedient of placing the three gods side by side, sometimes by figuring him as Vishṇu in the guise of a Yōgī with some of the attributes of the other two; but in modern times he usually appears as a single figure with three heads, one for each of the great gods, and four or six arms bearing their several attributes (usually the rosary and water-pot of Brahmā, the conch and discus of Vishṇu, and the trident and drum of Śiva), while he is accompanied by four dogs of different colours, supposed to represent the four Vēdas, and a bull.[37] Observe that in all these types Dattātrēya is conceived as an embodiment of the three gods, which is comparatively a later idea, for in the oldest version of the legend he was simply an incarnation of Vishṇu; but as Vishṇu was regarded not only as a member of the Trinity but also the Supreme Being over and above it, Dattātrēya as his representative has come to include in his personality the nature of all the trio. There is, moreover, something curious in his character. His love of wine and woman is a singular trait, and is quite incompatible with the nature of an ideal saint. It smells of reality, and strongly suggests that he was not a figment of the religious imagination but an actual man; and this is supported by the tradition of his association with Kārtavīrya Arjuna, who, in spite of all the mythical tales that are related of him, really seems to have been a king of flesh and blood. Thus we may venture to see in him yet another example of the metamorphosis so common in India from a saint to an incarnation of the god worshipped by him.
V. Two Modern Instances
In Northern India, and especially in Bengal, you will often find Hindus worshipping a god whom they call Satya-nārāyaṇa and believe to be an embodiment of Vishṇu himself. The observance of this ritual is believed to bring wealth and all kinds of good fortune; a Sanskrit sacred legend in illustration of this belief has been created, and you may buy badly lithographed copies of it in most of the bazaars if you like, besides which you will find elegant accounts of the god's career on earth written by quite a number of distinguished Bengali poets of the last three centuries. But curiously enough this "god," though quite real, was not a Hindu at all; he was a Bengali Moslem, a fakir, and the Muhammadans of Bengal, among whom he is known as Satya Pīr, have their own versions of his career, which seem to be much nearer the truth than those of the Hindus. In their stories he figures simply as a saint, who busied himself in performing miracles for the benefit of pious Moslems in distress; and as one legend says that he was the son of a daughter of [H.]usain Shāh, the Emperor of Gaur, and another brings him into contact with Mān Singh, it is evident that tradition ascribed him to the sixteenth century, which is probably quite near enough to the truth.[38]
The next instance belongs to the twentieth century. A few years ago there died in the village of Eral, in Tinnevelly District, a local gentleman of the Shanar caste named Aruṇāchala Nāḍār. There was nothing remarkable about his career: he had lived a highly respectable life, scrupulously fulfilled his religious duties, and served with credit as chairman of the municipal board in his native village. If he had done something prodigiously wicked, one might have expected him to become a local god at once, in accordance with Dravidian precedent; but he being what he was, his post-mortem career is rather curious. For a legend gradually arose that his kindly spirit haunted a certain place, and little by little it has grown until now there is a regular worship of him in Eral, and pilgrims travel thither to receive his blessings, stimulated by a lively literary propaganda. He is worshipped under the name of "The Chairman God," in affectionate memory of his municipal career, and as Jagadīśa, or "Lord of the Universe," a phase of the god Śiva.