Nācciyār Tirumoḷi | Āṇḍāḷ | 10-14



O flowers that bloom in the monsoon!
Did the dark ocean-coloured god
send you as warriors to fight with me?
Where did he go?
To whom can I complain?
I cannot fight with my heart
that wants his beautiful Tulasī garland.


O thondri flowers blooming up to the sky!
Do not grow to the sky
and burn me like the brightness of the discus
that is in the hand of the god
who is praised by the Vedas as the ancient god.
Take me to the group of the cowherds where he is.


O kovai vine, you are like my mother!
Don’t take my life, ripening with your sweet round fruits
that remind me of his dark colour.
I am afraid of the lord who has a lovely red mouth.
Pitiful, I say two things that are opposite.
I say I will not live without him,
yet I am alive without him now
and say that I want to be with him.
I am shameless like two-tongued Ādiśeṣa
on whom the lord sleeps.


O mullai vine! You are like a young girl!
Don’t hurt me with your smile.
You shine like the discus of the lord.
I go to you for refuge—please show me your love.
The young lord who cut off Sūrpaṇakhā’s nose
promised he would never be apart from me.
If his promise is false,
it would be better if I had not been born.


O cuckoo birds, you sing beautifully!
What is this song you are singing?
Come here and sing only
if the god of the beautiful Veṅkaṭa hills
gives me his love and allows me to survive.
If the god who carries an eagle flag comes,
gives his grace and embraces me,
he can also listen to your songs.


O flock of peacocks!
You have the beautiful colour of the dear lord Kaṇṇaṉ
and move gracefully
as if you had studied long to learn to dance.
I bow to your feet.
Do you see the sorrow of love that the dear god
who sleeps eternally on Ādiśeṣa on the ocean
has given me?


O lovely peacocks!
You dance beautifully spreading your wings.
I am pitiful and have no interest in seeing you dance.
Govinda, the god who dances kudavai kuthu on a pot,
has taken all my feelings with him.
It is cruel of you to dance happily,
reminding me of him and giving me pain.


O cloud, O cloud!
The thought that he has not entered my heart
make me suffer.
Like wax covered with sand that melts and pours down,
my love for him pours out.
Won’t you make the beautiful god of Veṅkaṭa hills
enter into my heart and embrace me?


O milky ocean, O milky ocean!
The god Māyavan churned you
and took the nectar from you,
and just like that he entered my heart
and took my life away.
Will you go to the god who sleeps on the snake bed
and tell him how I suffer for his love?


O dear friend!
The wonderful one who sleeps on the snake bed,
our highest lord, is great but we are small.
What can we do for him?
Yet if Viṣṇu-Citta, the chief of Villiputtur,
calls his god lovingly by composing beautiful poems
we may be able to see him.
The thalaivi loves the lord of Srirangam


O friends!
You are decorated with precious jewels!
Aren’t the bangles that I have on my hands
as precious as the conch he carries in his hand?
Won’t the god of Srirangam
who sleeps on the fiery-faced snake Ādiśeṣa look at me?
It is very hard for me, very hard.


O lovely women!
The sweet nectar-like lord of Srirangam
has beautiful hair.
His mouth and eyes are handsome.
A lovely lotus has grown from his beautiful navel.
He has made my bangles loose and fall.
Did he take them so he could wear them?


My dear god of Srirangam who carries a sceptre
rules the world surrounded by roaring oceans
and the world of the sky, keeping trouble away from them.
Would my bangles that he has made loose
help him remove all the troubles of the world
and keep it prosperous?


He is Vāmaṉaṉ, the lord of Srirangam
filled with beautiful palaces and walls.
He is the divine god who went to Mahābali
in ancient times as a sage.
He made Mahābali pour water on his hands
and took his lands.
Wasn’t that enough for him?
If he wants my bangles also can’t he come to my street
and ask for them?


He is my dear lord who went to Mahābali
in the form of cheating Vāmaṉaṉ
and made him give him his land
by pouring water on his golden hands.
He measured all the worlds and the sky.
He is the god of Srirangam where good people live
and he sleeps on the snake bed.
We are poor and have little.
It seems he wants to take the little things
that we have in our hands.


He is the wealthy god of Srirangam
where the Kāverī river flows carrying riches from everywhere
and gives water to the fields.
He cannot be reached by anyone, high or low.
He is the inner meaning of the four Vedas.
He already stole my bangles
and now he has stolen my heart.


When he had the form of Rāma,
the divine god of Srirangam,
surrounded by strong walls,
suffered as he thought of his wife Sita.
He didn’t eat or sleep when he was without her
and he made a bridge over the ocean
to bring her back from Lanka.
Now he doesn’t worry about us
who are separated from him
and only thinks of making himself happy.


He, the bright lord, took the form of an unclean pig
in ancient times, split open the ground
and rescued the earth goddess
who had been hidden by an Asura.
Even if I don’t want to think of the promises
that the beautiful shining god of Srirangam
made to me, I cannot forget them.


When Śiśupāla wanted to marry Rukmami,
after all the arrangements had made,
Kaṇṇaṉ fought him, took Rukmani with him
and married her.
Śrī Raṅganātha, the lord of Srirangam,
will help me as he helped Rukmani.


Viṣṇu-Citta listened to the true, divine words
as the god of Thiruvarangam, the good lord,
ordered him to do and composed poems.
The god said, “I love those who love me,”
but if he says this and turns it into a lie,
who is there to tell the truth?
How can I trust him?
The thalaivi requests her relatives to take her to
the place where her beloved is.


You don’t understand
that I love only Mādhava whom no one can know.
If you say that you will make me marry someone else
you’re just talking like someone who is dumb and deaf.
He is Nambi who left the mother who gave birth to him
and was raised by Yaśodā, his other mother.
Take me near Madurai of the god and leave me there
before he goes to the battlefield to fight with the wrestlers.


There is no use being ashamed because I love the god.
All the neighbours know about it.
Don’t try to do something and make me like I was before.
I fell in love with Kaṇṇaṉ.
If you really want to save me,
take me to the cowherd village.
I will only survive if I see the Māyaṉ
who measured the world in the form of a dwarf.


If people know that I went with Kaṇṇaṉ
and if they blame you saying,
“She left her father, mother and her dear relatives
and went away with someone,”
you will be hurt and you won’t be able
to avoid the disgrace that comes to you.
Māyavan comes often to me and stands before me.
He plays with the cowherd girls and does mischievous things.
He is the naughty son of Nanda-Gopāla.
Take me to the doorstep of Nanda-Gopāla
and leave me there at midnight.


My breasts say,
“We will not look at the face of others,
only of him who carries a discus in his beautiful hand.”
They are covered with a fine sari
and become shy if they see common people.
They won’t even look at the doorsteps of others,
only the house of Govinda.
I don’t want to live here.
Take me to the banks of the Yāmuṉa river and leave me there.


O mothers!
No one understand how much the love
that I have for him hurts me.
It will go away only if the god
who has the colour of the dark ocean
embraces me with his arms.
Take me to the pond and leave me on the banks
where he climbed the Kadamba tree,
jumped into the pond
and danced on Kālinga
as if he were dancing on a battlefield.


The cool cloud of the rainy season,
the karuviḷai flowers, the kaya blossoms,
and the lotus flowers all attract me and tell me,
“Go to Hriṣīkeśa’s place.
He is sweating, hungry, feels weak in his stomach
and wants food,
and he looks for the wives of the rishis
to bring him something to eat.”
Take me to where he waits for food
and leave me there.


My colour is becoming pallid.
My mind is confused and I have no sense of shame.
My mouth grows white,
I don’t want to eat or sleep and I am becoming thin.
If the god who has the colour of the roaring ocean
puts on me his cool Tulasī garland,
all these problems will go away.
Take me to the banyan tree
where Balarāma conquered the Asura Pilamban
and leave me there.


He grazed the calves,
living among the families of cowherds in the forest.
He was tied to the mortar by Yaśodā.
O poor mothers, don’t gossip about these things.
Take me near Govardhana mountain
that he carried as a victorious umbrella
to stop the rain and protect the cows.
Don’t get together and argue
about what you have heard from others,
don’t argue with each other.


My parrot that stays in its cage
always says, “Govinda, Govinda!”
If I am angry at it and don’t feed it,
it calls him loudly and says,
“O Lord who have measured the world!”
If I leave home and go to his place,
people will blame you, my relatives,
and you will be ashamed.
Take me to Dwara pathi filled with high palaces
and leave me there.


Viṣṇu-Citta Kodai, the chief of Puduvai
filled with shining golden palaces
composed a garland of beautiful poems with music,
described how the thalaivi who has long hair
tells her relatives her firm decision to go to join Kaṇṇaṉ,
and she asks them to take her on a pilgrimage
from Madurai to Dwara pathi and leave her with Kaṇṇaṉ.
Those who learn and recite these ten poems
will reach Vaikuṇṭha.
The love sickness of the thalaivi


I love Kaṇṇaṉ, the dark god and think of him.
I long to see him and suffer.
O mothers!
Your gossip is like pouring tamarind juice on a wound.
The dear lord does not know how this girl suffers.
Bring the colourful silk cloth that decorates his waist
and use it to fan me and make me cool.


I fell into the love-net of the highest lord
who sleeps on the soft banyan leaf.
Don’t gossip uselessly
as if you were piercing someone with a spear.
He is a cowherd and grazes the cows holding a stick.
He is the god who danced on a pot in Kuṭantai.
Bring the cool Tulasī garland of the dark-coloured god
and decorate my soft curly hair.


He is the lord who destroyed Kaṁsa with his strong bow.
The glances from the corners of his eyes go through my heart
like sharp spears and make me weak and hurt.
He doesn’t tell me, “Don’t worry!”
O mothers! If that matchless god gives the garland
from his chest and doesn’t cheat me,
bring it and spread it on my chest.


He, the dark bull who stole butter and milk
from the cowherd village women,
has made me weak with his love and I am heartbroken.
Who is there to relieve this sorrow?
He is as sweet as nectar.
Bring the water that springs from his the nectar-like mouth.
If you feed me that, the weakness of my body
and my sickness of love will go away.


Even when people weep, even if they worship him,
he does not come in front of them and say,
“Don’t be afraid!”
He, the matchless one, came, embraced me, entered my heart,
and now seems to follow me everywhere.
That Neṭumāl does not ever leave my heart .
Sprinkle the water on my face
that comes from the holes of his flute
when he plays it going behind his cows in the grove.


This world is unfair.
Tirumāḷ, the son of Nandagopa,
makes me suffer as if I were crushed
beneath the feet of a bull.
I can’t even move.
Bring the dust from where he has walked
and smear it on me
and I will survive.


He carries a victorious eagle flag.
He rules the world and all obey him.
Yaśodā who raised him
only made him like an unripen fruit that has a bitter taste.
If he embraces tightly my faultless breasts
with his young strong arms,
then my faults will go away
and I will be happy.


I melt in my heart for him and suffer.
He doesn’t even care whether I’m alive or not.
He carried Govardhana mountain.
If I see that mischievous one who stole my heart,
I will take my useless breasts and throw them on his chest.
Perhaps that will make my fire-like anger cool.


If I cannot serve Govinda in this birth,
making my breasts happy,
what is the use of doing tapas in the future?
If he embraces me with his chest it would be good,
and if he looks at me and tells me the truth to my face,
“I don’t want you!” and says goodbye,
it would be very good.
If he doesn’t want me what is the use of waiting
without knowing what he wants?
Isn’t it better if he tells me the truth?


The chief of Villiputtur, Viṣṇu-Citta Kodai,
composed poems about how the thalaivi
whose eyebrows conquer the beauty of bows
loved the dear god, the bright light of the cowherd village
who gave her such pangs of love.
Those who learn these poems and worship him
will not suffer in the ocean of sorrow.
Seeing Kaṇṇaṉ in Vrindāvan.
When some devotees ask others
whether they have seen Kaṇṇaṉ,
they answer that they have seen him in Vrindāvan.


“Playing like a young calf,
he makes the cows crazy
as he goes behind his brother Baladeva.
Did you see that dark bull-like one?”
“We saw him grazing the cows and giving them water.
He loves them and plays with them in Vrindāvan.”


“Did you see Govardhana
who steals butter, eats it and smells of ghee?
He left me and went to the cowherd village.”
“We saw the dark one who is adorned with garlands made of forest flowers.
He looked like the clouds shining with lightning
in Vrindāvan as he played there.”


“Did you see Nambi Maal who was born as a child?
He bewitched all the young girls,
telling unbelievable lies.
Did you see him coming here?”
“We saw him flying on Garuḍa
protected by it from the heat in Vrindāvan.”


“Did you see the god who attracted me
with his dark beautiful lotus eyes,
tied me with his love, pulled me and played with me?”
“We saw him who is like a baby elephant
that is covered with a cloth decorated with pearls.
We saw him sweating and playing in Vrindāvan.”


“Did you see Mādhava, my god, my jewel,
who is like a pig that has been caught in a net and escaped?
Has no one seen him?
Doesn’t he want to show himself to anyone?”
“We saw him who is like a dark baby cloud
decorated with golden clothes
when he came on the street in Vrindāvan.”


“Did you see the naughty one
who has beautiful eyebrows that bend like the Śārnga bow?
He doesn’t have any compassion for the young girls
who love him and is always bothering them.
He doesn’t know how to get along with others.”
“We saw him who has a dark body and a fair face.
He looked like the bright sun rising from behind a hill.
We saw him in Vrindāvan.”


“Did you see him who is like a beautiful dark cloud?
Is his mind as dark as his body?
He makes many promises to girls but doesn’t keep them.
Doesn’t he have any compassion?”
“We saw him who is bright as the sky filled with stars
when he came with a big crowd in Vrindāvan.”


“Did you see generous Tirumāḷ,
our god who carries a white conch and a discus
and wears golden clothes?”
“We saw him who has lovely fragrant hair
falling on his large arms
as he was playing in Vrindāvan.”


“He created Brahma on a beautiful lotus
growing from his navel
so that Brahma could create the whole world.
Did you see the faultless lord who created this world
and plays in it?”
“We saw the lord returning from fighting and conquering
the Rākṣasa Thenugan and the elephant Kuvalayabīḍam
in the forest.
We saw him in Vrindāvan”


Viṣṇu-Citta Kodai composed poems
about how the people who saw the highest lord
said that in Vrindāvan they saw him
who gave his grace to Gajendra the elephant
and saved him from the crocodile.
They who keep in their minds these poems as a cure
will live under the divine feet of the lord
without leaving him.