सुमिरन कर ले मेरे मना, तेरी बीती उम्र हरी नाम बिना ॥
हस्ती दन्त बिन, पंछी पंख बिन,
नारी पुरुष बिन, जैसे पुत्र पिता बिन हीना ।
तैसे पुरुष हरी नाम बिना ॥
कूप नीर बिन, धेनु क्षीर बिन,
धरती मेह बिन, जैसे तरुवर फल बिन हीना ।
तैसे पुरुष हरी नाम बिना ॥
देह नैन बिन, रैन चंद बिन,
मंदिर दीप बिन, जैसे पंडित वेद विहीना ।
तैसे पुरुष हरी नाम बिना ॥
काम क्रोध और लोभ मोह को, छोड़ विरोध संत जना ।
कहे कबीर भज राम सदा, यही हरी नाम का लेना ॥
Sumiran kar le mere mana, teri biti umar Hari naam bina ||
Hasti dant bin, panchhi pankh bin,
Nari purush bin, jaise putr pita bin hina |
Taise purush Hari naam bina ||
Koop neer bin, dhenu ksheera bin,
Dharti meh bin, jaise taruvar phal bin hina |
Taise purush Hari naam bina ||
Deh nain bin, rain chand bin,
Mandir deep bin, jaise pandit Veda vihina |
Taise purush Hari naam bina ||
Kaam krodh aur lobh moh ko, chhod virodh sant jana |
Kahe Kabir bhaj Ram sada, yahi Hari naam ka lena ||
Sumiran Kar Le Mere Mana - Remember God, O my mind - is a direct, compassionate exhortation to the wandering mind that has let life pass without spiritual practice. The opening line is both a gentle lament and an urgent call: Your life has gone by without the name of Hari. The body of the bhajan uses a series of beautiful analogies - paired images of something precious rendered worthless by a single deficiency - to illustrate the incompleteness of life without divine remembrance. An elephant without tusks, a bird without wings, a son without a father - each is a figure of diminishment, a being stripped of its defining quality. Similarly, a well without water, a cow without milk, the earth without rain, a tree without fruit - all are images of abundance turned hollow. A body without eyes, a night without moon, a temple without a lamp, a scholar without the Vedas - the final trio escalates the analogy into the domain of sight, beauty, worship, and knowledge. The closing verse turns from analogy to instruction, naming the inner enemies - desire (kaam), anger (krodh), greed (lobh), and attachment (moh) - and counselling their abandonment in the company of saints. The final signature - Kahe Kabir, worship Ram always, this alone is taking the name of Hari - seals the poem with its central practice: japa (repetition of the divine name).
The bhajan is most widely attributed to Kabir (circa 1440–1518 CE), the 15th-century weaver-mystic of Varanasi whose poetry spans the mystical, the satirical, and the urgently practical. Some versions of this composition, particularly those performed in Punjabi contexts, include a closing couplet associated with Guru Nanak, reflecting the deep continuity and mutual influence between Kabir's tradition and the early Sikh Gurus. Both Kabir's Bijak and the Guru Granth Sahib contain verses on sumiran (divine remembrance), and the two traditions share a common emphasis on naam-smaran (repetition of the Name) as the supreme spiritual practice.
In the nirguni bhakti tradition, Hari and Ram are not names of specific mythological personalities but universal names for the formless divine reality - the one consciousness that animates all life. Sumiran (remembrance, recollection) of this reality is not merely chanting syllables but a state of continuous inner orientation toward the source of all being. The Sant tradition teaches that the mind by its nature drifts outward toward sense objects, and sumiran is the practice of gently, persistently returning it toward the divine within - until remembrance becomes the natural ground of all experience.
Sumiran Kar Le Mere Mana is a versatile composition sung in both classical and devotional settings. In classical music it is performed in Raag Bhairavi or Khamaj, often as an evening or morning concert piece. In satsangs and Kabir congregations it is sung responsively, with the group echoing the refrain after each verse. It has also been rendered by classical vocalists - including Pandit Jasraj in celebrated recordings - and by folk musicians across North India. The simple, insistent structure of the analogies makes it easy to learn and deeply memorable.
Sumiran (also spelt simaran) comes from the Sanskrit root smara, meaning to remember or recollect. In the bhakti and Sant traditions, sumiran specifically refers to the constant, loving remembrance of God - a practice that ranges from formal japa (repetition of the divine name on a mala) to a continuous, background awareness of the divine presence throughout daily life. It is considered among the highest spiritual practices in the Sant tradition.
The main body of the bhajan - including the analogies of the elephant, bird, well, cow, and tree - is consistently attributed to Kabir in traditional collections. Some renditions include a closing verse referring to Nanak, reflecting the tradition of later singers blending verses from different Sant poets who shared a common philosophical framework.
The four inner enemies named in the final verse - kaam (desire or lust), krodh (anger), lobh (greed), and moh (attachment or delusion) - are classic categories from Indian philosophy (also enumerated in the Bhagavad Gita) that describe the primary psychological forces that pull the mind away from spiritual awareness. Abandoning these in the company of saints (sant-sanga) is presented as the practical path to sustained sumiran.
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Kabir's summon to the wandering mind: the urgency of remembrance
In the vast ocean of Kabir's nirguni verse, Sumiran Kar Le Mere Mana occupies a particularly tender place. The poet speaks not to an audience but to his own mind - addressing it as mana, the restless inner faculty that perpetually wanders toward distraction. Kabir's chosen form here is the sumiran, an unceasing inward remembrance of the formless divine that requires no temple, no ritual, and no auspicious hour. The analogies he employs - the merchant who neglects his trade, the bird that forgets to drink before the monsoon passes - carry the unmistakable urgency of someone who has understood, with absolute clarity, how quickly a human life slips away unused.
This bhajan sits squarely within the Sant tradition of northern India, which cuts across caste and sectarian lines to insist on direct, personal relationship with the divine. It is sung in a meditative, slow bhajan raga style in satsangs and in solitary morning practice alike, and its appeal has endured across centuries because its message is structurally timeless: not a theological argument but a whispered reminder that the present moment is precisely when remembrance should begin. Devotees who sit with this composition find that its simplicity is deceptive - beneath the plain Braj-inflected language lies a profound and demanding invitation to interior stillness.