Triveni Journal

1927 | 11,233,916 words

Triveni is a journal dedicated to ancient Indian culture, history, philosophy, art, spirituality, music and all sorts of literature. Triveni was founded at Madras in 1927 and since that time various authors have donated their creativity in the form of articles, covering many aspects of public life....

Aandaal’s Tiruppaavai –II (The

Prof. William Jackson

AANDAAL’S TIRUPPAAVAI - II
(“The Resplendent Resolution”)
The Traditional Story of Godaa’s Life.

Translated by
Prof. WILLIAM JACKSON
Indiana University, Indianapolis, Indiana, U.S.A.
(Continued from the previous number)

O little ladies of fortunate Repalli, town of the Lord, in your flashing jewels, if you care - and dare - to bathe on the lucky full-moon day in Margali month, the son of strongarmed Nandagopal, the lion cub of Yasoda so wide-eyed, black-cloud bodied and red lotus eyed. Narayana, whose face is splendid as sun and moon, will give us what we need – so come join the celebration and all together let your voices be raised in this hymn of praise.

Seekers of true life! Listen to what we’ll need for the rite of singing at the Holy feet of the Lord who reclines on the milky ocean: Up in the dawn hours we must bathe and have no pride, giving up rich fancy foods and makeup on our eyes, and flower blossoms in our hair. We’ll observe the rules of tradition like the old folks - and stop speaking ill of others. We’ll give alms, and enjoy the hymning of his praises, come, let’s sing!

When we for our own good and for the good of our rite bathe together, dwelling on the sacred chanting the Supreme’s name­–he who expanded sky high and measured the earth – and as we do austerities there will be nothing wrong in the nation, friendly rains three times a month will ripen the rising crops and fishes will hop and swim through the terraces of thick seaves, and bees will buzz, resting on kuvalai lilies. The great big milking cows with udders full enough to fill the vessels to the brim will stand in their places peacefully, like wise gurus teaching disciples; happy prosperity is certain – join the throng and sing the holy song!

Krishna, vast consciousness, Lord of the rain – Don’t hide your power – dive in the ocean! Swallow the waves! Rise in the sky expanding and dark as absolute reality, flash lightning and rumble thunder like the brilliance of the disc, and the roar of the conch shell all over the lands of the Lord with the lotus stemming from his navel, give us this day our good rain, splash down drops like arrows from the never-failing bow Saranga, and soak the earth when we bathe in Margali month in the morning with our little hearts blissfully carolling this.

When we with pure hearts approach Madhura’s Lord, who roams the groves on the banks of deep blue Yamuna river, and who glows like an emerald (that child of the cow herds who was the brilliance in the belly of Devaki, and is he whose belly is tied round by a thread (damodhara), and when we pour forth fresh petalled blossoms with pure minds and one-pointed adoration, and when we sweetly chant his praise with feelings – the wrongs we might have done will vanish like puffs of cotton in the flames­–so come along and all together sing my loving song.

Birds are flapping to glory! Hear the glad sound of the conch shell – white, right-side-circled – blasting from the temple where the king of birds, Garuda is pictured. Honey child, come along, get up! The spiritually-minded, dwelling on the Cosmos’ Lord, who sucked all the poison from the great ogress’s breasts, and wrecked the wheel ogre with a kick of his foot, – the spiritually minded have risen, and in procession in coolness chant the Lord’s name –­which came into my heart and cooled it – come along, sing my song!

“Kees kees kees” go the flocks of Chatakas, Honey, don’t you hear their chirps? Crazy girl, don’t you hear the songs of curd-­churning sung by the rods whirred by cowherd girls? O gem of a girl those cowgirls have sweet-smelling hair, and their fine fore­heads are adorned with red oval and cup-shaped marks; listen now to the jingle-jingle of every single one of their bangles...Hearing us burst into song of God’s names will you go to sleep? Come on, you with the bright body! Open up, step out come along and sing my loving song.

In the East the dawn glows brighter – buffaloes untethered scatter. We girls have come along and now en route we wait. We’ve come to call you and you hold – Agreeable lady! arise and sing and receive his blessings. When we together go to him and worship, serving the Lord who destroyed the ‘horse-rakshasa and the wrestler-henchmen of his enemy, he will mercifully take care of us.So come along and be singing my loving song.

Dear niece, mother’s sister’s daughter, snoozing on your luxurious bed surrounded by more and more brilliance in this immaculate mansion, unlock these jewelled doors. Auntie! will you make this girl rise and shine! Is your little girl tongue-tied? Could be she’s just deaf! Or sleeping spellbound by enchanting charms ... Here we are, voicing the names of the all-attractive Lord of the Heaven of no return – come along and sing with us this song of love!

O maid of austerities and ecstasy, be a leader of this procession on its way to celebration! Won’t you say something, if you won’t open up? Are you in a trance of Krishna’s presence? When we praise the Sale Sustainer with tulsi leaves in his hair, the blessed one will shower grace on us. Did the monstrous sluggard, ancient Kumbakarna, being beaten by bright Rama gift this dull deep sleep to you? Hey, lazy jewel! wake up all bright-eyed! Open up! join in and sing along, join this loving song.

O girl with a golden shape like a vine, with hips like the hood of a cobra! Splendid little peacock! Get yourself up and together! You know you belong to the clan of the flawless cowherd whose cows flow with milk when they think of their calves, the cowherd who bravely faced and decimated all foes. Awake bejewelled pretty lady – motionless you lie in silence – why are you unconscious? Kith and kin have come and clogged your threshold to lift their voices in praise of the cloud blue Lord – Come along, sing our song.

O sister of prosperity with new mother cows with bulging udders of milk always flowing at the thought of their calves, dren­ching your dooryard to puddles hard to cross through! Here we are at your door altogether – dew and drizzle all over our heads, singing of your darling sweetheart who in righteous anger slew the king of demons and his crew. Speak up! Wake up! Are you dead to the world? Why? The whole block is up and about – join the love song, come along.

We’re on our way, singing of him who ripped the crane-demon’s beak in two and slashed off the heads of Ravana. All the women­folk except for you have reached the place of rendezvous. Sukra in the east (Venus) has risen, and Brihaspati (Jupiter) has faded from our sight. Birds dash here and there filling the anticipated day with song. Pretty doe-eyed baby don’t you want to bathe in the cool deep peaceful waters? Will you keep on sleeping like a log? Don’t play possum on us this fine Margasirsha day. Come along and join us singing my loving song.

Hey clever cutie – you told me you’d wake us up! But we can’t bring you to! What are your words worth? Up! Up!

The lotuses of red in your green garden pond have opened up and all the black lilies are shut. The pious ones, with pure bright smiles and crimson clothes, with keys to unlock the temple doors for puja, are on their way now. While we, we’re going to sing­–about the Lord whose eyes are shaped like lotus petals and whose great arms hold the conch shell and the wheel–we’re going to sing – so come along join us, altogether now, in this celebration song.

(To be Continued...)

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