Arun Kolatkar’s seminal collection, “Jejuri” (1976), stands as a unique and profound exploration of faith, skepticism, and the lived reality of a revered pilgrimage site in Maharashtra, India. Through a series of sharply observed poems, Kolatkar embarks on a metaphorical and literal journey, not as a devout pilgrim seeking salvation, but as an astute observer, a detached and ironic commentator on the intricate tapestry of belief, tradition, and the often-mundane aspects of religious practice. His poetic voice, characterized by its conversational tone, vivid imagery, and understated wit, cuts through the conventional reverence associated with sacred spaces, revealing the layers of human interaction, commercial enterprise, and the profound dissonance between spiritual ideals and their practical manifestation.

Among the many evocative pieces within “Jejuri,” the poem “A Scratch” emerges as a particularly potent and incisive critique of the insidious commercialization of religion. In just a few lines, Kolatkar distills the essence of how spiritual meaning can be commodified, reduced to a transactional exchange, and ultimately trivialized in the bustling marketplace of devotion. It is an indictment not through overt condemnation, but through a masterful presentation of stark realities, allowing the reader to witness the subtle yet significant erosion of the sacred. The poem functions as a microcosm of the larger themes explored in “Jejuri,” reflecting Kolatkar’s pervasive skepticism concerning the outward forms of religion while simultaneously hinting at a yearning for something more authentic and enduring.

The Context of Jejuri: A Sacred Space Transformed

Jejuri, the setting for Kolatkar’s poetic journey, is a renowned pilgrimage town in Maharashtra, dedicated to the folk deity Khandoba, an incarnation of Shiva. For centuries, devotees have flocked to Jejuri, climbing the hill to the temple to offer prayers, fulfill vows, and seek blessings. Such pilgrimage sites traditionally represent spiritual havens, places where the devout can connect with the divine, find solace, and reinforce their faith through communal rituals and personal introspection. They are spaces imbued with centuries of collective belief, architectural grandeur, and the palpable presence of the sacred.

However, Kolatkar’s “Jejuri” largely subverts this romanticized image. His gaze is unflinching, capturing the dust, the dogs, the dilapidated structures, the indifferent priests, and the pervasive commercial activity that often overshadows the spiritual core. He presents Jejuri not as a pristine spiritual sanctuary, but as a lived-in, imperfect, and often cynical landscape where the sacred and the profane coexist, often blurring into one another. It is within this unvarnished portrayal that “A Scratch” finds its powerful resonance, highlighting how the commercial imperatives of the material world intrude upon and redefine the spiritual realm.

“A Scratch”: An Incisive Microcosm of Commodification

“A Scratch” begins with a remarkably understated observation: “A scratch is all you get. A scratch is all he’s got. It’s an ordinary man who knows the price of the right kind of light.”

The opening lines immediately set a tone of reduction and minimalism. The “scratch” itself is a powerful symbolism. Traditionally, religious idols, sculptures, or sacred markings are grand, ornate, and imbued with immense symbolic weight, representing the divine in tangible form. Here, the deity is reduced to a mere “scratch”—an insignificant, almost accidental mark. This deliberate choice of word immediately diminishes the grandeur and transcendence associated with the divine. It suggests a trivialization, a stripping away of the awe and mystery that should ideally surround a religious icon. The “scratch” implies something easily made, easily ignored, and utterly devoid of the traditional veneration.

The second line, “A scratch is all he’s got,” further underscores this reduction, implying a poverty of spiritual substance. It’s not just what the pilgrim gets, but what the “god” (represented by the scratch) has – very little, suggesting a hollowed-out divinity. This contrasts sharply with the abundance and power traditionally attributed to deities.

The introduction of the “ordinary man” is crucial. This is not a priest performing a solemn ritual, nor a deeply devout pilgrim. He is “just an ordinary man,” a figure of the everyday, the mundane. His expertise lies not in theology or spiritual guidance, but in knowing “the price of the right kind of light.” This seemingly simple phrase is laden with biting irony and serves as a direct indictment of commercialization. “The right kind of light” can be interpreted in multiple ways:

  1. Literal Light: It refers to the physical lighting that would best display the “scratch” to attract customers, much like a shopkeeper arranging wares. It points to a superficial aesthetic concern over spiritual depth.
  2. Figurative Light (Marketing/Presentation): It refers to the knack for presenting a product (even a divine one) in the most appealing, marketable way. It’s about packaging and perception for commercial gain, not spiritual illumination.
  3. Spiritual Light (Commodification): Most poignantly, it implies that even “enlightenment” or spiritual experience is now subject to a price tag. The vendor “knows the price” of access to this minimal divine connection, suggesting that spiritual benefit is no longer freely given or earned through devotion, but bought.

The poem continues to detail the transaction: “Take a pinch of the stuff and smear it on a bit of the scratch. He knows the price of the right kind of light. He also knows what you don’t. The price of the darkness.”

The “stuff” refers to the sacred vermilion (sindur) and turmeric (haldi), traditionally used in Hindu rituals for blessings, mark-making, and offerings. Here, it is merely “the stuff,” stripped of its ritualistic sanctity and presented as a mere commodity to be sold “by the pinch.” The act of “smearing it on a bit of the scratch” is a perfunctory gesture, devoid of reverence or genuine spiritual engagement. It is a quick, transactional act, no different from buying a small trinket. The pilgrim is not making an offering of devotion, but rather purchasing a token blessing.

The repetition of “He knows the price of the right kind of light” reinforces the vendor’s commercial acumen and the pervasive influence of market logic on religious practice. But Kolatkar then adds another layer of cynical insight: “He also knows what you don’t. / The price of the darkness.” This line is perhaps the most devastating. “The darkness” can symbolize several things:

  1. Ignorance/Blind Faith: The vendor understands that pilgrims, often operating out of blind faith or a desperate need for solace, are willing to pay for even a superficial connection to the divine. He exploits this spiritual vulnerability.
  2. Absence of True Spirituality: The vendor recognizes the void, the lack of genuine spiritual experience that often characterizes modern religious practice. He capitalizes on this spiritual vacuum, offering a quick fix.
  3. The Hidden Costs: It could imply the hidden, unspoken costs associated with the commercialization of faith – the moral decay, the loss of integrity, and the ultimate diminishment of spiritual value that result from turning religion into a business.
  4. Despair/Desperation: The “darkness” could be the despair or desperation of the devotee, for which a small token of blessing, even a “scratch,” is seen as a ray of hope, and the vendor knows how to profit from this human vulnerability.

Broader Implications: An Indictment of Commercialization

Kolatkar’s “A Scratch” extends beyond a mere observation of a single transaction; it functions as a powerful indictment of the broader phenomenon of religious commercialization.

1. Trivialization of the Sacred: By reducing a deity to a “scratch” and sacred substances to “stuff” sold by the pinch, the poem highlights how the profound and the sacred can be trivialized and desacralized in a commercial context. The awe and reverence traditionally associated with the divine are replaced by a casual, consumerist interaction.

2. Exploitation of Faith: The vendor, an “ordinary man,” is a symbol of those who profit from the faith of others. He is not a spiritual guide but a shrewd businessman who understands the market value of spiritual longing. This exposes the exploitative nature of such commercial activities, where devotion is viewed as a commodity to be bought and sold.

3. Superficiality of Practice: The act of “smearing it on a bit of the scratch” is a superficial ritual. It suggests that religious practice is reduced to external gestures and quick transactions rather than genuine introspection, devotion, or moral transformation. Pilgrims become consumers, and their spiritual journey becomes a series of purchases.

4. Erosion of Authenticity: The poem laments the loss of authenticity in religious experience. When spiritual connection is mediated by monetary exchange, its inherent value is diminished. The focus shifts from the internal quest for meaning to external validation through purchased tokens.

5. Modernity’s Impact on Tradition: Kolatkar observes how modern commercial imperatives infiltrate and reshape ancient religious traditions. The pilgrimage site, once a place solely for spiritual communion, transforms into a bustling marketplace where economic transactions dominate. This reflects a wider societal trend where material values increasingly overshadow spiritual ones.

6. The Irony of “Light” and “Darkness”: The juxtaposition of “the right kind of light” and “the price of the darkness” encapsulates Kolatkar’s cynical view. The “light” that is sold is not divine enlightenment but merely commercial visibility, while the “darkness” represents the spiritual void and human vulnerabilities that are readily exploited for profit. The spiritual quest, which should lead one out of darkness, here seems to be capitalized upon by those who understand the “price” of that very darkness.

Within the larger fabric of “Jejuri,” “A Scratch” resonates with other poems that subtly critique the hollowness of ritual without genuine faith. The collection often portrays priests as indifferent, idols as inanimate stones, and pilgrims as mechanical participants. Kolatkar’s skepticism is not an outright rejection of faith but a lament for its degradation. He challenges the reader to look beyond the superficial veneer of organized religion and question what remains of its spiritual core when it becomes intertwined with material desires and commercial gains. The poem implicitly asks: What is the true value of a blessing that can be bought for a pinch of vermilion and a dab on a “scratch”?

Conclusion

“A Scratch” by Arun Kolatkar stands as a profound and subtly devastating critique of the commercialization of religion, particularly as observed in the pilgrimage town of Jejuri. Through a concise yet deeply resonant portrayal, Kolatkar masterfully exposes how spiritual essence can be reduced to a transactional commodity, stripping the sacred of its inherent awe and meaning. The poem’s depiction of a deity as a mere “scratch” and a sacred offering as common “stuff” sold by an “ordinary man” highlights the pervasive trivialization that occurs when faith is subjected to the logic of the marketplace.

The poem’s brilliance lies in its understated irony and keen observation. It avoids overt moralizing, allowing the stark reality of the scene—the vendor’s commercial shrewdness, the casualness of the exchange, and the reduction of the divine to a purchasable token—to serve as its own powerful indictment. By juxtaposing the “price of the right kind of light” with the ominous “price of the darkness,” Kolatkar suggests that even spiritual illumination and human vulnerability are exploited for material gain, thereby demonstrating the profound erosion of authenticity in religious practice.

Ultimately, “A Scratch” functions as a microcosm of Kolatkar’s broader critique throughout “Jejuri.” It challenges the reader to look beyond the surface of religious rituals and institutions, prompting reflection on the genuine substance of faith in a world increasingly driven by commercial interests. The poem serves as a timeless commentary on the delicate balance between devotion and commerce, reminding us of the enduring tension when the spiritual realm intersects with the material world, and the potential for the former to be diminished by the latter.