Her Verses Had No Borders—Only Truth

Her Verses Had No Borders—Only Truth

A spiritual reflection on Lalleshwari

Some words are written to persuade.
Some are written to impress.
And then there are words like those of Lalleshwari—spoken not to travel, yet carried across centuries without passports, permission, or protection.

Her Vakhs crossed borders because they were never meant to belong to one place, one people, or one belief. They did not carry identity; they carried recognition. They did not ask, “Do you agree?” They asked, “Do you see?”

In Lalleshwari’s time, borders were not drawn on maps as they are today—but they existed just as fiercely in minds: sacred and profane, ours and theirs, learned and unlearned. Her verses slipped through all of them because they were born before such separations hardened. Truth, when spoken from experience rather than ideology, does not need translation. It is understood first in the body, then—if at all—in the intellect.

What makes her incomparable is not merely that Hindus and Muslims revered her, but why they did. Each tradition recognised something familiar in her words, yet could not claim them entirely. Her Vakhs refused capture. They sounded like Shaiva insight and Sufi surrender, yet were neither derivative nor syncretic. They were original in the deepest sense: originating from lived awareness.

Lalleshwari did not aim for universality. She aimed for accuracy. She spoke only what she had verified within herself. That precision made her words porous enough to enter any heart willing to listen. Borders collapse when truth is specific rather than abstract.

Her verses also defied another boundary—the one between the educated and the ordinary. She did not speak in the guarded language of scholars. She chose simplicity without dilution. In doing so, she returned spirituality to its rightful owner: the lived moment. Her words could be remembered by shepherds, whispered by women at work, contemplated by monks. Truth did not require credentials.

This is why her Vakhs survived primarily through oral tradition. They were not imprisoned in texts; they moved through breath, memory, and daily speech. Borders thrive on fixation—truth thrives on movement. Her verses moved because they were light. They carried no agenda, no institution, no demand for allegiance.

In a fractured world, we often try to build bridges through compromise—adjusting language to avoid offence, diluting meaning to include everyone. Lalleshwari shows another way: speak from the root, and inclusion happens naturally. When words arise from ego, they defend territory. When they arise from clarity, they invite recognition.

She also teaches us that borders are sustained by fear—fear of losing identity, authority, or certainty. Her fearlessness came from intimacy with the real. When you have touched what cannot be taken away, you no longer need walls. Her Vakhs did not argue against boundaries; they made them irrelevant.

Today, as language becomes increasingly weaponised—used to signal loyalty, provoke outrage, or perform virtue—Lalleshwari feels like a quiet corrective. She reminds us that speech can still be sacred. That words can still point without pushing. That truth does not need amplification; it needs alignment.

Her verses had no borders because they were not meant to organise people.
They were meant to awaken them.

And perhaps that is the most radical quality of her voice: she trusted truth to do its own work. She did not manage its reception. She released it. In doing so, she allowed it to travel farther than any ideology ever could.

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Practical Daily Toolkit: Speaking Borderless Truth

1. The Source Check (Before Speaking)
Ask inwardly:
“Is this coming from reaction—or recognition?”
Speak only after you feel the difference.

2. One Sentence of Clarity
Once a day, express a truth simply—without justification, defence, or performance.

3. Language Lightening Practice
Remove one unnecessary adjective or opinion from your speech. Notice how clarity sharpens.

4. Listening Beyond Agreement
When hearing a different view, listen for the human truth beneath the words.

5. Evening Reflection (5 minutes)
Ask:

• Where did my words build walls?

• Where did they open space?