Chokamela half eaten mangoes.

The Mangoes of Grace: A Saint Born Outside the Temple Walls

In the sacred town of Pandharpur, where the air is thick with the name of Vitthal, and the streets echo with the footfalls of countless devotees, lived a soul so pure that even the stone walls of the temple remembered his song. He was Sant Chokhamela, a name now revered across Maharashtra, a poet-saint whose love for the Lord transcended the iron bars of caste and the cruelty of social rejection.

But Chokhamela’s story—his very birth—is wrapped in divine mystery, a tale as tender as his devotion and as profound as his verses.

The Mangoes and the Unknown Elder

Long ago, a devout couple used to make the pilgrimage to the temple at Pandharpur every single day. One morning, they set off carrying a bag of the finest, sweetest mangoes, carefully chosen as an offering to their beloved Lord Vitthal.

On the road to the temple, they were stopped by a frail, elderly man. His eyes, weary yet knowing, met theirs as he said softly, “Bhavti, I am hungry.”

Moved by compassion, they offered him some of the mangoes. But to their surprise, the old man bit into each mango and returned it half-eaten, smiling with gentle satisfaction. He did this to several mangoes and then silently walked away.

The couple, now with a mix of reverence and unease, decided to separate the uneaten mangoes for the temple and carry the half-eaten ones to feed stray dogs or cattle on the way back.

But as they continued walking, something strange occurred.

The bag with the half-eaten mangoes grew heavy—much heavier than it ought to. Alarmed, they opened it, only to find that the mangoes had vanished. In their place lay a baby boy, glowing with peace and purity, his gaze tranquil as though he had descended from another world.

Afraid of how society might react, and confused by the divine strangeness of the event, the couple left the child beneath a tree and quietly disappeared into the crowd.

Raised by the Humble, Destined for the Divine

It was a group of blacksmiths who later passed that way and heard the baby's soft cries. Seeing the abandoned child, they felt a surge of compassion and took him into their home. They raised him as their own, unaware that they were nurturing a future saint.

Thus was born Chokhamela—not through conventional means, but through divine intervention, placed gently into the arms of the oppressed so he could rise as their voice, their poet, and their liberator of the soul.

The Devotee Outside the Gate

As Chokhamela grew, so did his love for Vitthal. Though born into a marginalized caste and barred from entering the temple, his devotion knew no boundaries. Every day, he stood outside the walls of the temple, singing abhangas with tears in his eyes and love in his voice.

When asked how he could pray from so far, Chokhamela replied:

“The Lord does not live only inside those walls. He lives where there is true love.”

His poems, simple yet profound, touched countless hearts. Even the priests who once mocked him began to feel the weight of his words.

When the Wall Remembered the Saint

Years later, when Chokhamela passed away, his body was not allowed inside the temple. His ashes were buried near its outer wall.

But God had the final word.

It is said that the wall began to crack, and from it emanated a soft light and the murmured echoes of Chokhamela’s songs. Devotees began to feel a presence so strong that they would lean against the wall, saying,

“This is where Chokha’s soul sings to Vitthal.”

Even the stone, it seemed, could not forget the love of a true devotee.

The Lasting Legacy

Sant Chokhamela’s life was a living abhanga—each moment a verse offered at the feet of the Divine. He was not born into privilege or priesthood, but grace chose him, perhaps through that mysterious old man on the road with the mangoes. Who was he? Some say he was Vitthal Himself, testing hearts, sowing divinity where the world saw none.

In Chokhamela, the Lord showed the world that bhakti is not bound by caste, birth, or temple walls. It flows from the heart and reaches the Divine unhindered.

And perhaps, even today, in the quiet hours of dawn, if you stand near that temple wall in Pandharpur, you might just hear a saint still singing,

“Vitthala, Vitthala…”

Eg abhang.

Here are a few beautiful abhangas (devotional verses) composed by Sant Chokhamela, translated into English with the original Marathi lines where possible. His poems are filled with deep humility, intense longing, and unshakable devotion to Lord Vitthal.

1. "अरे देवा, तुज माझे न जाणवे दु:ख!"

“O Lord, you do not know the depth of my sorrow!”

 अरे देवा, तुज माझे न जाणवे दु:ख।

तरी तुजपुढे म्हणतो मी अभंग॥

O Lord, You may not understand my sorrow,

Still, I stand before You and sing these abhangas.

Because You are my only refuge, my soul’s beloved.

Chokhamela expresses how even in pain and rejection, his only response is to sing in devotion.

2. "मी अभंग बोलतो गा विठोबाचे"

“I speak only of Vitthala’s glory”

 मी अभंग बोलतो गा विठोबाचे।

वाण्या कडून आलो मी विठाईच्या पायाचे॥

I sing only the praises of Vitthala,

From the world’s noise, I have come to the feet of Vitthai.

This verse speaks of leaving worldly noise behind and surrendering at the feet of the divine.

3. "आळवितो विठोबाला, अंतरीचा भक्त"

“I call to Vitthala with a heart full of love”

आळवितो विठोबाला, अंतरीचा भक्त।

माझ्या जातीचं बघून हसतात लोक॥

I call out to Vitthala from the depths of my soul,

But people laugh at me because of my birth.

Yet my Lord looks only at the devotion in my heart.

This reflects the pain of social rejection but also the spiritual strength that comes from divine love.

4. "चोखोबाचा देव वेगळा"

“Chokha’s God is different”

 चोखोबाचा देव वेगळा,

जातीभेद न पाही ॥

Chokha's God is different,

He sees no caste or division.

He sees only the heart that calls His name.