Across Hindu, Muslim, and Sikh lineages, the Bijak is approached as a text that resists confinement within any single creed, yet each community reads it through its own spiritual grammar. Hindus, especially within the nirgun bhakti and wider Sant traditions, tend to see Kabir as a paradigmatic devotee of the formless Absolute, a voice for nirguna Brahman that stands beyond temple, image, and rigid ritual. His fierce critiques of caste, pilgrimage, fasting, and idol worship are often taken as an attempt to purify and interiorize dharma rather than to discard Hindu frameworks altogether, and many interpret his language of karma, rebirth, and liberation in a way that keeps him within an expanded Hindu universe. Some currents also link him to earlier yogic and Nath influences, emphasizing his esoteric practice and rejection of social hierarchy, while others regard him as a saintly or even avatār-like figure whose authority is nonetheless harnessed for inner reform.

Muslim, particularly Sufi, readings often recognize in the Bijak a radical affirmation of divine oneness that resonates with tawḥīd, coupled with a relentless critique of empty formalism that mirrors Sufi concerns about mere legalism. Kabir’s rejection of external show—whether dietary rules, ritual prayer, or sectarian pride—is heard as a summons to sincerity of heart, an echo of the inner devotion and remembrance that Sufis describe with terms such as dhikr, fanā, and baqā. His frequent use of Islamic vocabulary and references to figures and practices associated with Islam allows many Muslim readers to see him as speaking from within a shared spiritual horizon, neither simply endorsing nor outright rejecting established religious identities. In such circles he is often honored as a God-intoxicated faqir whose path centers on the annihilation of ego and direct experience of the One.

Within Sikh tradition, the understanding of Kabir is shaped above all by the presence of his hymns in the Guru Granth Sahib, even though the Bijak as a collection does not hold the same canonical status. Sikhs tend to receive his voice as that of a realized bhagat whose teachings harmonize with core Sikh principles: devotion to one formless God, the primacy of nām-simran, and the rejection of caste, ritualism, and religious exclusivism. His verses are read as articulations of the same universal truth that the Sikh Gurus proclaim, illuminating themes such as hukam, ego, māyā, and liberation in a manner that reinforces Sikh understandings of spiritual life. In this light, Kabir appears as a towering non-Guru figure whose testimony confirms that authentic realization stands beyond the labels “Hindu” and “Muslim,” and that what ultimately matters is truthful living, remembrance of the Divine Name, and service.

Across these traditions, the Bijak functions as a kind of spiritual mirror: each community recognizes in Kabir what most deeply accords with its own highest ideals, yet his unwavering insistence on the formless, on inner transformation, and on the exposure of hypocrisy keeps him slightly beyond the grasp of any exclusive claim. Hindus emphasize his bhakti to the nirguna Absolute, Muslims his uncompromising monotheism and critique of hollow observance, and Sikhs his consonance with the Gurus’ teachings on unity, equality, and the futility of sectarian pride. What emerges is a shared acknowledgment of Kabir as a mystic and reformer whose poetry crosses boundaries while continually calling every reader back from outer forms to the immediacy of direct divine experience.