Mahārāṣṭra Dharma
In 1999, during a month-long tour
of Northeast India, I visited the Keshavdham office in Guwahati to learn
about the work being carried out in Pūrvāñchal i.e northeast India. We were sitting in the office, waiting for the
people we were to meet, when an elderly man looked inside. Noticing that we
were visitors from another place, he politely asked, “Where have you come from?
How long have you been travelling? What all have you seen?”
When he learned that we had come
from Maharashtra, he asked another question: “Have you visited Raigad?”
We replied, “Yes, we have seen
Raigad.”
The moment he heard this, the
elderly man immediately bowed down before us in full prostration.
We were startled. “What
happened?” we asked.
He sat beside us and said with
deep feeling, “Your feet carry the dust of Raigad. The soil of the land where
Śivājī Mahārāj lived and walked has touched your feet. I bow to that sacred
soil through you.
That moment stayed quietly in my
mind. What seemed like a simple gesture carried a deeper meaning.
As the conversation continued, he
said something that has stayed in my mind ever since. After a brief pause, he
spoke again. Then he said something that made me think deeply.
“For you Marathi people, it may
be difficult to fully realise the importance of this. But as an Assamese, I can
tell you something. If Śivājī had been born here, we would have been different
today. Assam too would have been different. Because Śivājī was born in your
land, Mahārāṣṭrians are different. The spirit with which they look at society
and the nation is unique, and it comes naturally to them.
“Whether in the freedom struggle
or in the social movements that worked for society after independence—whether
socialist or Hindutva movements —you will find many examples of this deep
social and national commitment among Mahārāṣṭrians.”
He paused and continued: “Many
complaints may be made about Marathi people. Doubts may be raised about them.
But no one can doubt their love for the nation. Because Śiva-bhāva—the spirit
of freedom and Swarājya—has entered the very soil and waters of Maharashtra.
After all, Śivājī was born there.”
He spoke generously about us. His words sounded like praise, but they also raised a
question within me. His appreciation slowly turned into a question in my
mind.: Where do we stand today in relation to that Śiva-bhāva?
Last year, an experience in Māvaḷ
surfaced that question back after many years.
Last year, Śreyasdādā, Praṇavdādā,
and I travelled to the Māvaḷ region while preparing for a Sahādhyāya Din i.e
Experiential Learning Day. We were visiting villages in the Kāri and Bhor
areas. Our purpose was simple. We were searching for something beyond what
books tell us.
In history books we often read
only a single line about certain families—families who stood with Śivājī
Mahārāj when he began building Swarājya in Māvaḷ. Some had joined him after
persuasion; others after overcoming their doubts and opposition.
We wondered: could we meet the
descendants of those families today? Could we see the historical objects
preserved in their homes? Could we hear the stories of their ancestors from
them directly?
Our journey was a small effort
towards preparing such a visit.
During this trip, we visited the
villages and ancestral houses of several chieftain families such as the Jedhes,
Khopdes, Bandals, and Śiḷīmkar. While interacting with people, three small
conversations left a deep impression on me to raise deeper questions.
Our first stop was village Kāri.
We visited the Jedhe Wāḍā. We listened to the descendants speak about the
courage and leadership of Kānhōjī Jedhe and saw some old historical objects
preserved by the family. Kānhōjī Jedhe was a loyal Māvaḷ sardar who strongly
supported Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj and helped mobilize the Māvaḷ region for
the cause of Swarājya.
After coming out of the Wāḍā, we
asked a few villagers sitting nearby, “Where is the village of the Khopdes?”
They asked us, “Why are you
wandering around?”
When we told them that we had
come to study the life and work of Śivājī Mahārāj, they replied, “You want to
meet the people who helped Śivājī Mahārāj, right? Then what is the connection
with the Khopdes? (Khandoji Khopde was a Maval sardar who opposed Chhatrapati
Śivājī Mahārāj and sided with Afzal Khan during the Pratāpgad campaign.) Why go
there and visit their? Do not go there.”
They refused to give us any
information. It made me wonder how memory shapes our understanding of history.
Later we reached Ambāvaḍe. There
is a suspension bridge there, and nearby stand the memorials of Kānhōjī Jedhe
and Jīvā Mahālā. Jīvā Mahālā was the brave bodyguard of Śivājī Mahārāj who
saved his life by killing Sayyad Banda during the encounter with Afzal Khan at
Pratāpgad.
Kānhōjī Jedhe’s memorial is
simple, while the memorial of Jīvā Mahālā has been beautifully maintained by
his descendants.
During our conversation, someone
villager casually remarked, “Does this make sense? How can a servant’s memorial
stand next to that of his master? Which memorial should be larger? After all Kānhōjī
was Chieftain and Jīvā Mahālā was a soldier.”
It revealed how we sometimes see
history through narrow lenses.
From there we went to Pisāvare.
In the Battle of Pāvan Khind, the Chieftain Bandal’s army displayed
extraordinary bravery. One of their commanders was Bājī Prabhu Deśapāṇḍe. We
visited the memorials of the Bandal warriors.
An elderly local man said with a
hint of disappointment, “What came of all that bravery? The Brahmin’s name
became famous. What about us?”
These three responses stayed with
me throughout the day and by evening, these three conversations were echoing in
my mind.
Perhaps one member of the Khopde
family had opposed Swarājya out of fear or self-interest. But surely later
generations may have joined the cause of Swarājya or fought against the
British. Yet we continue to judge an entire family lineage through the lens of
a single incident.
Kānhōjī Jedhe and Jīvā Mahālā
fought together in the Battle of Pratāpgad. We often say, “Because Jīvā was
there, Śivā survived.” But instead of feeling proud that such a brave man came
from among their own people, someone asks, “How can a servant’s memorial stand
beside his master’s?”
After the Battle of Pāvan Khind,
Śivājī Mahārāj himself honoured the Bandals in his court. In truth, when Bājī
Prabhu’s name became immortal, the glory belonged to the Bandal family as well
as Bājī was part of Bandal forces. Yet the feeling remained: “The Brahmin’s
name became famous—not ours.”
Today we proudly speak of
Maharashtra’s valour. We raise slogans and celebrate heroic memories. Yet
somewhere deep within, resentment, dissatisfaction, and grievance about each
other quietly remain.
It was upon witnessing Śivājī
Mahārāj’s actions that Samarth Rāmdās gave the mantra.
“Marāṭhā titukā meḷavāvā, Mahārāṣṭra
dharma vadhavāvā.”
(“Bring together to unite every
Maratha; strengthen Mahārāṣṭra Dharma.”)
Mahārāṣṭra Dharma is a
historical–cultural ideal that emerged during the time of Chhatrapati Śivājī
Mahārāj and was articulated strongly by Samarth Rāmdās Svāmī. It refers to the
collective duty, unity, and ethical responsibility of people from different
sections of society to protect the people, uphold dharma, and build just
self-rule (Swarājya).
Mahārāṣṭra Dharma does not mean a
regional religion. In the seventeenth century, large parts of Bhārat were under
imperial rule. Society was divided and politically weak at that time. The work
of Śivājī Mahārāj aimed to unite local communities, restore dignity and
security to the people, and establish Swarājya—self-rule based on dharma.
Although the term mentions Mahārāṣṭra,
its scope was never narrow or regional. Śivājī Mahārāj’s vision included the
protection of all communities, defence of sacred places, justice for common
people, and resistance to injustice and oppression. Because of this, the values
of Mahārāṣṭra Dharma naturally expanded into Rāṣṭra-dharma—the duty towards the
entire nation.
Justice, Dharma, and Concern for
Bhārat : When the Mughal emperor Aurangzeb reimposed the Jizya tax, Śivājī
Mahārāj wrote to him objecting to it. He reminded the emperor that a ruler must
treat all subjects with fairness, regardless of their faith, and that such a
tax placed hardship on the people. Śivājī Mahārāj also showed concern for
sacred centres like Kāśī and the temples of Bhārat, reflecting that his vision
of dharma was connected with the well-being and civilizational heritage of the
entire land, not limited to Mahārāṣṭra.
Counsel to Mirza Raja Jai Singh:
During the events surrounding the Mughal campaign in the Deccan (1665), Śivājī
Mahārāj is remembered for expressing to Mirza Raja Jai Singh that Indian rulers
should not fight among themselves for imperial interests. Instead, they should
think in terms of a larger duty towards their own land and society. This appeal
reflects an early articulation of Rāṣṭra-dharma—placing the welfare of the
country above factional alliances.
Inspiration to Chhatrasal
Bundela: The Bundela leader Chhatrasal is said to have met Śivājī Mahārāj in
his youth. Inspired by the idea of Swarājya, he later returned to Bundelkhand
and began a struggle to establish independent rule there. This interaction
shows how the idea of self-rule based on dharma spread beyond Mahārāṣṭra,
influencing leaders in other regions of Bhārat.
The spirit behind the Third
Battle of Panipat: Nearly a century after Śivājī Mahārāj, the Maratha forces
marched north to confront the Afghan ruler Ahmad Shah Durrani. The conflict was
not simply a regional war. Maratha leaders saw it as a struggle to prevent
foreign domination and to protect the political order of northern India. Their
campaign reflected the same broader outlook—that the responsibility of
safeguarding the land of Bhārat was not confined to one region. More than one
lakh people sacrificed their lives for this cause.
These examples show that while
the phrase Mahārāṣṭra Dharma arose in a regional context, its guiding
values—protection of sacred heritage, unity among Indian rulers, inspiration
for self-rule in other regions, and defence of the wider land of
Bhārat—naturally expanded into Rāṣṭra-dharma, the duty towards the entire
nation of Bhārat.
But today it sometimes seems that
Maharashtra is getting trapped in the pride of narrow identities. In doing so,
are we forgetting the deeper essence of Mahārāṣṭra Dharma?
The real test today is not of
slogans. It is not of demonstrations of power. The real test is whether the
spirit of Mahārāṣṭra Dharma still lives within us?
Chhatrapati Śivājī Mahārāj united
people from many sections of societyand established a sacred kingdom. It was on
the strength of that Mahārāṣṭra Dharma that people later fought Aurangzeb and
his successors from village to village and home to home.
Today on the occasion of Śivājī
Mahārāj Jayanti (Birth anniversary), I remember the words of that Assamese
gentleman once said, we must recommence our resolve to nurture that Mahārāṣṭrian
spirit—that living essence of Mahārāṣṭra Dharma. As for even today, many people
across India look towards Mahārāṣṭra as a living example of national duty
inspired by Śivājī’s ideals. And that’s why
Bhāratīya citizens have faith in Mahārāṣṭrīyan, Perhaps the deeper
reason is simple as in this land of Mahārāṣṭra , Chhatrapati Śivājī Mahārāj was
born.
“Bhāratīya titukā meḷavāvā, Bhāratīya dharma vadhavāvā.”
(“Bring together every Bhāratīya;
strengthen Bhāratīya Dharma.”)
Prashant Divekar
Jnana Prabodhini, Pune

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