29See Notes to Poems I.1–3.
30Commentators often contrast the peaceful devotional life of Śrī Villiputtūr (sattva guṇa) to the political and commercial bustle of Madhura (rajas guṇa).
31See poems VI.105–6.
32Steiner 19.
33See also I.76, I.80–82, II.73 and II.97.
34Pound (1935) 335.
Śrī Kṛṣṇadevarāya’s Āmuktamālyada
Giver of the Worn Garland
INVOCATION
I.1
He is seen in the sparkle of her lovely jewelled necklace
and She is reflected in his radiant Kaustubha Gem,
as if the image of the other that each held within their hearts
was coming into view, their bodies merging
crystal pure into a single being.
To this magnificent Lord of Vĕṅkaṭa, I offer my salutations.
I.2
From time to time Viṣṇu casts a loving glance towards Lakṣmi
and as they descend towards Earth to enjoy each other
the endless serpent Ādiśeṣa raises his broad flat hoods
creating a hall of moonlight to illuminate their love.
I worship you Ananta, eternally existing, beyond the passing aeons.
I.3
When the King of Birds flaps his powerful wings
the waters of the ocean are swept into heaven,
revealing the snakes of hell, who out of sheer terror
wrap themselves into spiral coils.
The submarine mare of fire fills the sky with brilliant lightning
and the rushing wind rattles through giant caves
turning Meru and Mandara into a pair of drums.
Massive trees for his nest are whisked away like tiny broken twigs and whole villages are hurled and cast in every direction!
The mighty storm of Garuḍa’s wings turns the whole world
upside down, dispersing sins like heaps of cotton.
I.4
With just a slight gesture of his brow,
Viṣṇu gives his general the command to commence creation.
And with a mere flick of the tip of his staff
Viśvaksena brings the whole world into being
like a potter using a stick to spin his wheel.
Now I seek refuge in this golden staff of creation.
I.5
When Hari breathes in, to blow his conch
the air passes over the blackened mire of sin
sucking out the life force from demon after demon.
And when he breathes out, the bees that swarm at his lotus lap
are drawn towards his mouth by his fragrant breath.
O Pāñcajanyam, white and radiant like a full moon night
everything around you is purified.
I.6
Viṣṇu’s sword is like a sparkling lampstand
shining bright with the light of knowledge.
A golden crocodile with a mouth of fire
rests at its hilt, flickering like a flame
while kāṭuka rises like wisps of smoke.
Brilliant Nandaka! You sever every sin
like a sword through a heap of creeper vines.
I.7
When Sāḷva King of the Demons created a city in the sky
surrounded by a rampart of gems, Kṛṣṇa King of the Yādavas
flew through the heavens with his long powerful arms
and smashed through the city with his celestial mace,
adding that city’s golden enclosure to his many adorning bracelets.
To the divine weapon Kaumodika,
decorated with a garland of heavenly flowers, I offer my prayers.
I.8
When Viṣṇu was ready to shower a volley of arrows upon the demon Sumāli, the mighty Sāraṅga bow said—
‘O Hari, let me protect you!
You transformed the hunchbacked Trivakra
into a slender maiden with beautiful hair.
Bring out my true nature too, for I have three curves like her.
Grab the middle of my bow and bend the two ends inward!’
I.9
When Rāhu swallowed the elixir of the gods
Sudarśana quickly chopped off his head
and forced immortal juice to come pouring out his mouth.
The other demons looked on as thick blood spurt from his neck
like a wide pot, under tall flames
bubbling and boiling with seething rage.
To this divine discus Sudarśana, I offer my salutations.
I.10
To escape the intense heat of the twelve Āditya suns
Viṣṇu resides in the cool loving hearts of the twelve Ālvār saints,
intoxicated by the sweet cascades of nectar that fill their lotus minds.
In my search for salvation I honour these luminous bodies,
twelve blessed souls of the earth.
* * *
And here ends the invocation of my beloved Lord.
THE DREAM
I.11
Some time ago I set out on a campaign to expand my empire and conquer the Kaliṅga country. I marched to Vijayavāḍa with my army and camped in Śrīkākulam for a few days. There at the temple of Āndhra Viṣṇu I worshipped the Lord on his special day of fasting, and then, during the fourth watch of the night…
I.12
Āndhra Viṣṇu appeared to me in a dream—
his lustrous black body made the rain clouds look pale
and his bright wide eyes put the lovely lotus to shame,
his golden silk clothes outshone Garuḍa’s wings,
and his Kaustubha Gem eclipsed the red rising sun.
Lakṣmi appeared there too, carrying a lotus in one hand
and holding his hand with the other,
her kind face removed all my desires
and her gentle smile emanated true compassion.
Then Viṣṇu spoke to me—
I.13
‘You composed the Story of Madālasa and the Pleasures of Satyabhāma
and delighted connoisseurs with your natural usage
of hyperbole, metaphor, subtle suggestion and sarcasm.
You selected the best episodes from the Vedas and the Purāṇas
and compiled the Abridged Essence of All Stories.
With great poetic skill you wrote the Jewel of Wisdom
that could dispel the sins of any listener,
and your Handbook on Aesthetics
was praised by scholars for its sweet poetry.
All of these works you wrote in Sanskrit,
but is it impossible to compose poetry in Telugu?
Create a great poem in Telugu for my pleasure!
I.14
‘If you ask, “Which of your forms shall I remember?”
Listen, for I shall tell you.
Recount the story of my wedding in Śrīraṅgam
for I am a Telugu king and you are the King of Kannaḍa!
Long ago I grudgingly accepted a garland offered by a man.
Make up for this misdeed by describing
the pleasure of receiving a gift from your beloved.
Tell the story of my dear Āmuktamālyada, Giver of the Worn Garland.
I.15
‘If you ask, “Why Telugu?”
It is because this is Telugu country and I am a Telugu king.
Telugu is one of a kind.
After speaking with all the kings that serve you, didn’t you realize—
amongst all the regional languages, Telugu is the best!
I.16
‘If you ask, “To whom shall I dedicate this work?”
Offer it to your favorite Lord Vĕṅkaṭeśvara, for I am He.
Though we differ in name and appearance
we are one and the same.
I.17
‘If you compose this book
your future will grow brighter and brighter!’
And with these words he disappeared.
At dawn I awoke astonished and performed the proper rituals,
and with the utmost devotion I offered my salutations
to the central temple spire.
I.18
Early that morning I held court. I called together my generals
and vassals, but quickly dismissed them back to their camps.
Then I summoned together various wise men and scholars,
honoured them and related my most wondrous dream. They
were amazed and overjoyed. They said—
‘O lord! The fact that the God of gods came to you in a dream
foretells a series of auspicious events. Listen.
First, the appearance of the Lotus-Eyed God means that your
devotion will grow still stronger. The fact that he commanded
you to compose an epic poem promises that your knowledge of
literature will deepen still further.
And because Śrī appeared there beside him, your treasury will
grow even more abundant. And the hundred-petalled lotus in her
hand symbolizes that you will acquire the emblematic white
parasol of a mighty emperor.
The God’s words carry meaning as well—‘After speaking with
all the kings that serve you’ predicts that you will easily attract
many more vassals, and ‘If you compose this book your future
will grow brighter and brighter’ foretells that you will have
many more wives, and many more children, who will live long
and uphold the greatness of your glorious Turvasu lineage.
These auspicious omens are truly wonderful. Listen and heed the
words of the Lord.’
* * *
I.50
Here is my epic poem Āmuktamālyada, Giver of the Worn
Garland. The story begins like this …
CHAPTER I
ŚRĪ VILLIPUTTŪR
I.51
The town of Śrī Villiputtūr is the glittering jewelled bŏṭṭu
that adorns the face of the Pāṇḍya kingdom.
There, ornamental birds made of sapphire and emerald
decorate the eaves of golden mansions and almost start to sing,
as if echoing the chattering of cuckoos and parrots
who live in the town’s row of beautiful gardens.
I.52
The countless mansions are like Indra’s famed palace—
roofs gilded with golden tiles, and crimson towers
inlaid with lotus buds made of pink rubies
like a tall proud warrior on the eve of battle
decked in golden armour and capped with a shining helmet.
I.53
All along the lanes, mansion doors can be seen
in a long neat row, straight as a tautly pulled string.
The auspicious conch and discus, etched on either side of the doors
are reflected in the jewelled verandas, and the garlands of gems
that hang over the doorways become wedding crowns
in the imaginations of women from neighbouring villages
who visit Śrī Villiputtūr in hopes of finding a husband.
The front terrace steps are engraved with emerald elephants
like the Eight Guardian Elephants emerging from the primordial
ocean covered in blue-green algae. Above them, ornamental lions
sneak up on the elephants and swallow their heads,
leaving nothing behind but their dangling trunks.
Two of these elephants and a woman from the street
are mirrored in the golden waters in front of the mansion,
appearing like the goddess Lakṣmi
bathed by a pair of splashing elephants.
I.54–I.55
The breasts of the Pāṇḍya women are daubed with coral-coloured
kuṁkum, red as the tender fruit of the tall coconut trees
that line the diamond-paved lanes of the town.
There, beautiful mansion gateways
cleaned with dung and painted with muggulu
seem to be decorated with no effort at all.
The bejewelled mansions are studded with so many
precious stones that the sea has been plundered of its treasures,
so in hope of retaining a few last gems
the Ocean barters away his first wife, the river Gaṅga
and his sons, the wish-granting trees of heaven.
I.56
In the gardens of Śrī Villiputtūr
Drāviḍa women bathe in oval ponds filled with red water lilies,
and after smearing themselves with holy turmeric
they tenderly collect lotuses for their morning pūja.
Walking along garden paths with flowers in their hands
and water jugs swaying at their hips, their silver anklets
glitter and jingle
as they happily return home singing songs of devotion.
I.57
Silver fish glimmer in the pure clear water
of sapphire-ringed roadside wells,
as noisy groups of kingfisher birds swoop down
from tall tree branches to catch their prey.
Up and down they go
like the bouncing balls
of playful Drāviḍa girls.
I.58
Lotus-Eyed Lakṣmi and Nārāyaṇa each have a temple chariot
engraved with beautiful scenes of lovemaking—
where couples play in valley caves, nestled between
the mountains called Meru and Mandara.
Though these mighty mountains give the gods
their home and life-giving nectar,
they ask the tall buildings of Śrī Villiputtūr to judge
who’s better, for these lofty mansions provide
both food and shelter for the needy.
I.59
Groups of temple courtesans play games on their verandas
and as they shake the dice with one hand, their braids come undone
so when they lift up the other hand to fix their hair
their tight silken blouses and perfect breasts are revealed
like the soft round pillows of the God of Love.
And as they throw the dice, the mere jingle of their bracelets
is enough to stir the hearts of solitary sages.
When Kāma with his safflower arrows crosses their path
they don’t even raise their faces to look at him,
for they treat him like any other petty lover.
But when priests walk by,
they stop their games, stand up, and reverently offer their salutations.
So jealous are men that even proud Indra desires
to serve Lord Viṣṇu
so that he too can garner such loving attention.
Whenever they hear conches from Viṣṇu’s temple,
signalling the time for prasādam,
they quickly turn their heads, and that darting glimmer
from the corner of their eyes
pierces the hearts of the townsmen.
I.60
With a single grain of unhusked rice
they clean their pān-stained teeth
until they shine like moonlight.
And with a fine piece of white cloth
they daub their freshly bathed bodies
with yellow turmeric, so gently, the cloth remains unstained.
With their cīras already on,
they slip their hands underneath their blouses
and caress themselves with perfumed paste.
And if a necklace happens to break in the passion of lovemaking
they pay no heed to the precious pearls
that lie scattered across the floor.
These lotus-faced courtesans learned in language and poetry
can quickly assess the status of any man that approaches them,
<
br /> but even if an old lover is put out, they always treat him well.
The king himself wanders their quarter as if it is his outside harem.
I.61
The ladies of Śrī Villiputtūr throw away tarnished gold jewellery
for fine pearl necklaces and gem-studded bracelets.
They detest greasy civet fragrance
and only use the finest antelope musk to scent their bodies.
They refuse fresh flowers
and only perfume their hair with sweet sandalwood smoke.
And they push aside thick heavy clothes for sāris made of silk.
I.62
At dawn, courtesans stand under rooftop eaves
and pull their black hair between their breasts to untie their braids,
and as they flick away last night’s withered flowers
with their long trim nails, honeybees emerge and buzz away.
Lustful men see this scene and fantasize
that the courtesans are playing a double-gourd vīṇa,
a sweet tune rising as they quickly move their hands
across the ivory frets.
I.63
With their girlfriends’ spiteful comments in their ears
courtesans reject the desires of poor, old and ugly men.
They even turn down the wealthiest man,
for these women, with ears like the letter śrī, are already rich.
I.64
After Drāviḍa housewives prepare their bath
by rubbing sticks of turmeric in the waters of their bathing ponds,
white-winged swans fall asleep near the jewel-encrusted steps
and stain their feathers a deep rich yellow,
so bright, that when they waddle through the town
people see the golden swans of heaven
descended from the celestial river.
I.65
In the waterways of rich paddy fields
ducks tuck their heads into their thick white plumage and fall asleep.
The watchmen think, ‘These must be the clothes, squeezed dry
and left behind by the brahmans who bathed here in the morning!’
And as they dive into the water to fetch and return the clothes,
the ducks scatter, while the girls, huddled and watching from the fields
start to laugh.
I.66
Mango trees and date palms burst with fruit blossoms
and beautiful flowers of jasmine, chrysanthemum,
safflower and oleander are in their full bloom
but the prized Rājanam rice is flowerless,
The Giver of the Worn Garland KRISHNADEVARAYA'S AMUKTAMALYADA Page 4