In the shadow of Bengal’s celebrated Renaissance—a period often lionised for its intellectual ferment, literary efflorescence, and social reform—a quieter, more radical revolution stirred. It did not unfold in the hallowed halls of Calcutta’s elite salons, nor did it follow the polished paths of Western liberal thought. Instead, it thrived in village akharas, in whispered songs of truth, and in meals shared across rigid caste lines.

This was the world of the Kartabhajas (Bengali: কর্তাভজা)—literally, the “Worshippers of the Master”—a sect born not of privilege, but of pain, yearning, and radical hope.

A Rebellion from Below

While the Bengal Renaissance is remembered for its luminaries—Rammohun Roy, Ishwar Chandra Vidyasagar, and others—it was largely a project of the educated upper classes. In contrast, the Kartabhajas emerged from the margins: Sadgops, Shudras, Muslims, and tribal communities whose voices were often silenced under the weight of Brahminical orthodoxy and colonial hierarchy. Their gatherings were radical in both spirit and practice.

Historian Sumanta Banerjee observes that Kartabhaja feasts brought together Brahmins, Shudras, and Yavanas—an act of profound defiance in a society where purity was meticulously policed and social hierarchy considered sacred. These meetings were more than spiritual rituals; they were social insurgencies, a grassroots challenge to the established order.

Here, the Kartabhajas lived by the principle:

“Apan Bhajan katha..na kohio jatha tatha” — don’t say your rituals here and there.

It was a reminder that true devotion is personal and internal, not for public display or hierarchical judgment.

A Saviour Appears: Aul Chand

In a time when the oppressed lower strata of both Hindus and Muslims longed for freedom—spiritual and social—Aul Chand appeared as a saviour. His philosophy was simple, direct, and inclusive. It attracted followers across religious boundaries, offering a path that was both devotional and liberating. His teachings emphasised personal experience over ritual, community over hierarchy.

This path is often referred to as the Sahajia path, rooted in simplicity and the innate divinity within every individual. For the marginalised, it offered both religious and social freedom, a rare space where caste, creed, and inherited status mattered little.

Sahajiya Philosophy: Simplicity, Ecstasy, & Liberation

At the heart of the Kartabhajas’ teachings lies the Sahajiya philosophy. Derived from the Sanskrit word sahaja, meaning “innate” or “natural,” it emphasises the realisation of the divine within oneself. The Sahajiya path rejects elaborate rituals, priestly intermediaries, and social hierarchies, proposing instead that true spiritual awakening comes from direct, unmediated experience. Its practices often combine ecstatic devotion, meditation, and symbolic Tantric imagery, blending joy, longing, and liberation into a single, lived spirituality.

For followers of the Kartabhajas, this philosophy was both revolutionary and deeply human—it promised freedom not only from spiritual ignorance but also from the social oppression that defined everyday life.

Purna Chandra & the Kartabhaja Community

In 1694, Mahadeb Barui discovered an abandoned child in Ula, Nadia, whom he named Purna Chandra. By twenty, Purna had left home, and by twenty-four, he had renounced worldly life entirely. At thirty-seven, he arrived in Bejra, gathering disciples from the lower castes and communities marginalized by mainstream society. His journey mirrored the spiritual odyssey of countless seekers—wandering, shedding, awakening.

The community’s expansion was propelled by Ramsaran Pal and his wife, Saraswati Devi. Ramsaran, honoured as Adipurusha, and Saraswati, revered as Satima or the “Holy Mother,” became spiritual anchors in Ghoshpara. Saraswati’s reputed healing powers attracted devotees from far and wide. Over time, the movement began to shift—from Aul Chand’s radical egalitarianism to the devotional cult of Satima Dharma.

Transformation Amid Turmoil

Ghoshpara, once a vibrant mosaic of Sadgops, tribal groups, and Muslims, underwent a seismic transformation in the 1940s. The establishment of an American Air Force Base displaced local populations, while the Partition of India in 1947 triggered mass migrations. Muslims fled to East Pakistan, while Hindu refugees poured into India, altering the demographic and spiritual landscape.

The decline of the Muslim population accelerated the Hinduization of the Kartabhaja sect. The worship of Satima as a Mother Goddess became central, eclipsing Aul Chand’s original vision of inclusivity and radical egalitarianism.

Satya: The Eternal Truth

Despite these shifts, one principle endured: Satya—the eternal unity of the Supreme Being. “Satya” was a common thread among Bengal’s syncretic sects—echoed in Sufi reverence for Haq, and in the worship of Satya Pir or Satya Narayan.

For the Kartabhajas, Satya was not merely truthfulness but the eternal unity of the Supreme Being. Scholar Sukumar Sen notes that this concept of Satya resonates across Bengal’s syncretic traditions—from Sufi devotion to Haq, to the veneration of Satya Pir or Satya Narayan.

Even today, Kartabhaja gatherings reflect this legacy. On Fridays, devotees observe vegetarianism. During annual festivals, meals are served without bias. In hidden akharas, flickering lamps illuminate faces as songs rise in harmony, seeking the elusive truth that transcends caste, creed, and social status.

Devotion Beyond Ritual

The Kartabhajas’ bhakti is centered on Krishna and Radha but expressed in raw, ecstatic forms. Rituals are minimal; caste hierarchies are rejected. Their songs—often cryptic and layered with Tantric symbolism—pulse with rebellion, longing, and liberation.

These gatherings are sanctuaries rather than spectacles. They are spaces where the burdened find solace and the excluded find belonging—a form of devotion that merges spiritual ecstasy with social critique.

Kartabhajas vs. Brahmo Samaj

Parallels are often drawn between the Kartabhajas and Rammohun Roy’s Brahmo Samaj. But their paths diverged significantly. The Brahmo Samaj pursued reform within colonial frameworks, advocating rationalist critique and selective modernisation. The Kartabhajas, in contrast, offered a grassroots alternative, rejecting both Brahminical orthodoxy and colonial rationalism. They were not reformers—they were rebels.

Decline & Enduring Legacy

Like many radical movements, the Kartabhajas eventually faced internal corruption. Financial exploitation and secrecy marred their reputation. Yet, their legacy endures—not in textbooks or grand temples, but in the memory of those who once sang together in hidden akharas, dreaming of a world without caste, creed, or exclusion.

Echoes in the Dust

Today, the Kartabhaja sect is largely remembered through the lens of Satima Dharma. But beneath this devotional veneer lies a forgotten history of resistance—a spiritual uprising that quietly challenged Bengal’s social order.

In a world still fractured by hierarchy and exclusion, the Kartabhajas’ whispers endure: truth is not found in dogma, but in devotion; not in purity, but in unity. And perhaps, in some quiet corner of Ghoshpara, as the evening lamps flicker and the songs begin, their voices still rise—seeking Satya, the eternal truth.

Feature Image Credit: http://profmitra.blogspot.com/2017/03/sati-mayer-mela-kalyani.html