Gyaneshwari sprang to life in 13th-century old Marathi, the everyday speech of Maharashtra’s villages. Sant Jnaneshwar chose this vernacular instead of Sanskrit, so the Bhagavad Gita’s depths could sing straight to the common heart.

Its heartbeat is the ovi metre—a folk-poetic mould made up of quatrains, where three shorter lines dance into a slightly longer fourth. Think of it as a rustic melody: simple, memorable and perfectly suited to communal recitation. This structure mirrors the way stories were passed down around village hearths, with each line rolling off the tongue like a familiar folk tune.

The ovi’s charm lies in its rhythm and accessibility. No lofty Sanskrit compound slows it down; instead, everyday images—mustard fields, household chores, even the crackle of a clay lamp—pop up to illustrate cosmic truths. In a way, it resembles today’s spoken-word performances or the catchy refrains of regional pop songs that go viral on social media. Just as contemporary artists use mother tongues to connect instantly, Sant Jnaneshwar employed old Marathi to bridge the gap between scripture and soul.

What makes this style timeless is how it weaves profound philosophy into the warp and weft of daily life. Modern Maharashtrians still celebrate Jnaneshwari readings during festivals like Ashadhi Ekadashi, proving that those simple ovi stanzas continue to resonate, generation after generation.