AANDAAL’S TIRUPPAAVAI - II
(“The Resplendent Resolution”)
The Traditional Story of Godaa’s
Life.
Translated by
Prof. WILLIAM JACKSON
(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!
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 back 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 back – 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
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...)