The Giver of the Worn Garland KRISHNADEVARAYA'S AMUKTAMALYADA

by SRINIVAS REDDY

  The Lord was resting on Śeṣa’s skin, thin and white like a cloth made of flowers that fell from the Tree of the Immortal Gods. Viṣṇucitta and the others looked up at his divine beauty, and the crocodile earrings that hung near his temples seemed to reflect the golden honey that flowed from his lotus face, reminding everyone of that fateful day when He saved the Elephant King and absorbed that tormenting crocodile into his divine form.

  And as they gazed at him unblinking, the Lord appeared both black and white, but when they were forced to blink, He seemed like sparkling silver. They were drowned and blinded in the flood of His beauty, a form beyond all forms.

  His long eyes were streaked with fine red lines, like scattered petals from a red lotus flower. And his drooping black lashes were like the loving shade, and the cloak of darkness, that act as wives for the Sun and Moon.

  His lower lip stole redness from the flower called Flame of the Forest, blazing like Agni born from his mouth. And his nose, like a laughing sesame flower, extended out just a little, to greet his friend the Bearer of Scents.

  The Lord lay on his side and his long arms like iron maces extended down his back, stretching from his ornamented shoulder to his jewel inlaid wristbands and rings. Those long black arms appeared like Rāhu, the lunar eclipse. And seeing the white light that shone from the lotus at the Lord’s navel, Rāhu thought the full Moon was trying to escape his wrath by taking refuge with the Lord. But in fear for his own life, Rāhu bowed down beside the Lord and offered a bribe of gems and coins to Lakṣmi, the Moon’s sister who resides at the god’s golden feet.

  His birthmark Śrīvatsa was a spectacle for the eye and upon his chest was the incomparable Kaustubha Gem. The corona of light that it emitted was enough to fill the entire hall. And there the Lotus-Born Lakṣmi, whose body is pure as pure can be, resided in effulgent glory.

  The fragrance of his navel, finer than deer musk, attracted a line of bumble bees, shaped like the garland of delicate black tulasi leaves, hanging across his chest.

  His waist was thin and sleek like a lion, as if he had forgotten to transform part of his body when he changed from the demon-slaying Narasiṁha back into a man.

  The jewel encrusted golden belt around his giant hips appeared like the soft rays of the Jewel in the Sky, setting over the western mountains. His dark black thighs could be seen through the fine yellow silk that covered them, like two lapis pillars layered with topaz.

  His glowing victory anklet was like heaven’s golden enclosure, an ornament for his heel when he grew slowly, slowly through the sky as the God of Three Paces. And when that ring of golden light combined with heaven’s splendour, his ankles turned dark red like banyan berries, or the shell of a baby turtle, as if he was prophesizing his tortoise birth.

  His feet were marked with signs from his life—a plough, a thunderbolt, a vase, a lotus, a crocodile and goad. They could remove all the three troubles of life. His toes were soft like the interior of a red lotus, redder still from rubbing up against Lakṣmi’s kuṁkum-covered breasts. His toenails were like twinkling stars, radiating a moonlight halo that could dispel any darkness in the hearts of devotees.

  This is the Lord Nārāyaṇa, the Eternal God, the Primordial Progenitor and the Ultimate Man. Son of Vasudeva, Savior of Vibhīṣaṇa and Lord of The Senses. He is the God who removes the pains of his devotees, He is the One praised by Śiva, He is the Father of Love, and the Lover of Śrīraṅgam!

  Seeing God, Viṣṇucitta and his daughter along with the other worshippers, were drowned in waves of joy, fear and devotion. ‘Jaya! Jaya!’ they cried as they fell to the ground and bowed with every part their of bodies.

  Then Viṣṇucitta rose, joined his hands above his forehead and began to pray.

  VI.99

  Praise to You, most precious treasure in the Creator’s Abode!

  Praise to You, a treasury of merits in the long line of Ikṣvāku! Praise to You, beloved of Vibhīṣaṇa,

  brother to Kubera, Lord of Treasures!

  Praise to You, O Lord of Śrīraṅgam,

  God of gods, who all other gods bow down to.

  VI.100

  Soul of the Universe and Lord of All Beings

  You are Infinite, Indivisible and Invisible!

  You are the foundation of the whole world

  and yet You exist without support.

  You are the composite universe of molecules

  and yet You are subtle as an atom.

  You are the Eternal. You are the Truth.

  VI.101

  O Nārāyaṇa!

  Resting on the Waters of Creation and

  Dwelling in the Hearts of Man.

  You are greater than the Aggregate Substances,

  beyond even Heaven and Earth!

  You are the Venerable, the Lofty, the Ultimate Man!

  O Nārāyaṇa! Praise to You who grants salvation.

  VI.102

  God beyond gods, You are Brahma, Viṣṇu and Śiva.

  For the entire universe, You are the force

  of creation, existence and dissolution!

  I worship only You Nārāyaṇa, the Great Light,

  the everlasting home of all beings.

  VI.103

  You are the Supreme Being, beyond both man and god.

  You are the Highest Soul, constantly meditated upon

  by assemblies of yogis in search of salvation.

  You pervade every part of the natural world

  and yet You cannot be classified by the Three Qualifying Colours.

  You are imperceptible to the power of the Collective Senses,

  existing as purity without a mark.

  You are the Source of the Primal Elements—

  Stainless, Pure and All-Pervading!

  From hours to minutes, to the blink of an eye

  You are the passage of the thread of time.

  O Viṣṇu, Nārāyaṇa, the Greatest God!

  I am led to service when I imagine You.

  * * *

  RAṆGANĀTHA

  VI.104

  This is how Viṣṇucitta praised the divine actions of the God Who is Adorned With the Kaustubha Gem, the God Worshipped by All Other Gods—the Ultimate Inner Image that is a Perfect Emanation of Self-Manifested Light.

  Waves of compassion poured from the Lord’s eyes, like questions that asked about everyone’s welfare. And then he saw the beautiful young Goda, Giver of the Worn Garland. He could hear the jingle of her bracelets, and he could see the part in hair, adorned with pearls and gems, as she bent down low to offer flowers at his lotus feet.

  He watched her intently and thought to himself—

  VI.105

  ‘Her eyes must be why

  Lakṣmi was jealous, and gave the Love God a flag of victory.

  Her trembling waist must be why

  April was brave enough to step foot on earth.

  Her full breasts must be why

  Rati gained fame, moving her hands across her vīṇa.

  Her beautiful face must be why

  Saraswati’s swan found a lotus nest.

  Her long braids must be why

  the peacock felt union after longing.

  Her red feet must be why

  thirsty bees follow at her footsteps.’

  VI.106

  Viṣṇu was eager, he couldn’t contain his desire,

  he whisked her off to his private chambers, and in her place

  he left an illusion, a woman in her image, created by him.

  Viṣṇucitta and the others didn’t even notice,

  they all remained there perfectly still.

  VI.107

  Priests arrived and offered holy water blessed by the Lord’s feet along with a sacred cloth reserved for special devotees. They lifted the illusionary Goda into a palanquin to carry her back to Śrī Villiputtūr, but when they pulled back the drape that covered the window, she was gone—

  VI.108

  ‘Save me!’ cried Viṣṇucitta.


  ‘My daughter has been carried away

  by this Lord of Śrīraṅgam, a man of ultimate power,

  a man who can put Brahma and other gods in their place.

  Is it fair for him to rob an innocent brahman like me?’

  He threw up his hands in despair,

  his arms weak and withered like stalks of straw

  as he fell into an ocean of sorrow.

  ‘Look sirs!’ he said to the assembly of men

  as he choked up with tears—

  VI.109

  ‘When he loves her so much,

  wouldn’t I make arrangements for a proper wedding?

  Shall I give him my body, my life?

  Everything that I have—children, home, cattle, wealth and more,

  they’re all for his devotees so they can perform pūjas.

  Oh, you all know this! Can’t you understand?

  Take this little child from me and I’m nothing!

  VI.110

  Śiva, Brahma and Indra are just like other worshippers,

  they’re powerless to call this an injustice!’

  ‘You’re out of control!’ yelled Viṣṇucitta at Viṣṇu.

  ‘Oh, it’s only fitting that you forget justice!

  All the worlds are yours, Mother Compassion stands by your side

  and worshippers surround you, but who’s left to be on my side?

  VI.111

  You have Lakṣmi, Nīla, and Bhūdevi.

  What can I say when you set your mind

  on pure, innocent Goda.

  What’s that smirk? Are you mocking an old man?

  Have you gone mad?

  Who can make right the crooked flow of rivers?’

  VI.112

  This is how Viṣṇucitta scorned the King of the World who relieves the suffering of his devotees. But now he was scared. He realized how foolishly he had insulted the Lord’s dignity.

  Then a little smile lit up across Raṅganātha’s face, adorned

  with the crocodile earrings that hung gently to his mirror-like cheeks.

  VI.113

  And the Lord said, ‘O wise sage,

  have you lost your mind from old age?

  Your daughter is safe at home.

  You’ve attacked me with abuses,

  right here in the open!

  Go and search your house, just one more time

  and accuse me then

  if you don’t see her sparkling eyes.

  Don’t have such extreme thoughts.

  Go and see for yourself.’

  VI.114

  ‘O, my father!’ moaned Viṣṇucitta.

  ‘What’s done is done. I can’t bear such misery.

  Speak from within and calm me with kindness.’

  ‘May you be victorious!’ cried Viṣṇucitta

  as he stopped the flow of tears

  and rushed back home.

  VI.115

  As the Ālvār approached his home

  his daughter ran out to greet him.

  He kissed her head and shed tears of joy.

  ‘My child! I see you!’ he cried

  as he caressed her hair with his hand like butter.

  * * *

  THE WEDDING

  VI.116

  The Lord of Śrīraṅgam sent Brahma and Sarasvati

  and Siva and Parvati, in the company of his general

  to ask for Goda’s hand in marriage.

  And when Viṣṇucitta saw them all coming,

  he was overwhelmed with excitement.

  VI.117

  With Viśvaksena at their head, the gods approached humbly and were treated to every hospitality. Once they were all seated, Viṣṇucitta asked about their coming. They replied, and his heart was filled with a rush of joy.

  VI.118

  ‘O Viśvaksena, Śiva and Brahma!

  By asking for my daughter on his behalf

  you’ve made me a proud man.

  A tradition was born

  when honourable Bhṛgu gave away his daughter Śrī

  who was born from the Ocean of Milk.

  If that was right, then there’s no injustice here.

  VI.119

  Please listen. Let us make this a proper union.

  Easy-going people might say he carried her off.

  If he agrees to come to our village,

  I’ll happily give away my daughter.

  VI.120

  His great lordship makes him the Ultimate Sovereign.

  That God Born in the Line of Śūra

  who has humble subjects at his feet

  will surely grant this simple favour for his future father-in-law.

  For it is he who creates the costumes that we wear,

  and though our roles may be great, his play is greater!’

  VI.121

  Then the gods left to petition the Lord of the World

  whose heart was soaked in a flood of compassion

  as he mounted his great vehicle the King of Birds.

  Then Brahma and all the other gods climbed onto their mounts, surrounded him, and set out singing songs of praise.

  VI.122

  Viśvaksena, Beloved of Sūtravati, stood before his troops

  aligned on the highway of stars.

  Celestial elders held decorative swords and thunderbolts,

  their blinding brilliance spreading in every direction

  like a hundred million shining suns.

  * * *

  VI.123

  The wedding party proceeded to Śrī Viliputtur. And on the way, they stopped at perfectly spaced guesthouses made out of jewels, built by Viśvakarma, master craftsman of the gods.

  The handsome groom was in front, accompanied by heavenly nymphs bathed in turmeric and adorned with precious ornaments. He was flanked by ancient seers chanting prayers, and a celestial orchestra conducted by Nārada. Water Bearers created a faint drizzle, white like titanium, and streamed down an ablution of nectar, revealing the Kaustubha Gem like a ruby pendant in his pearl necklace.

  Viṣṇu’s neck was white like a conch shell and he was adorned with two golden epaulets and a wedding bracelet. He was a living ornament, decked with two crocodile earrings and a ceremonial crown.

  He was smeared with holy paste and anointed with perfumed oil. He was draped in robes of golden yellow and across his chest hung a garland made of tulasi leaves and flowers from the Trees of Heaven. This is how the bridegroom looked, just before he stepped foot in the door.

  Viṣṇucitta was joyous, and he humbly welcomed the Lord into his home.

  * * *

  VI.124

  Pārvati and Sarasvati led the ten million women of heaven

  in singing happy songs

  about the splendour of Sīta and Rāma’s wedding.

  VI.125

  Affectionately, Ekāvaḷi and Sragviṇi fanned her

  from both sides with yaktail fans.

  Earlier, the wives of the Seven Sages

  gently smeared her with turmeric paste

  and blessed her as they made her into a bride.

  VI.126

  The marriage rites were conducted according to tradition.

  Goda was bathed in rose water, poured out

  from golden pots decorated with jewels.

  Her body was caressed with perfume

  and her head was massaged with fragrant oil

  that scented her flowing curls.

  And like this, the Queen of the World

  turned from woman to goddess.

  VI.127

  Goda was glowing in her thin wet cīra.

  She was seated on a platform made out of gems

  as incense smoke dried her long black hair.

  Then She with Eyes Like a Doe

  lovingly gathered her hair to tie a braid.

  VI.128

  One friend spread lac water

  across her feet and pretty white nails.

  Another clasped a silver anklet around her le
g

  and decorated her toes with rings.

  One lovingly dressed her in a cīra of white silk,

  painted with a border of gold.

  And another tied an ornamented belt

  around her vine-like waist.

  One adorned her arms with armlets, and her neck with necklaces

  and pearls that sparkled like stars.

  And another tied a wedding band around her wrist,

  while the others slipped rings on her fingers.

  They fastened earrings to her ears, and a nosering to her nose

  and placed a gem at her brow

  that fell gently from the part in her hair.

  VI.129

  And yet another friend applied lines of kāṭuka

  around her bright white eyes.

  She perfumed her body with deer musk

  and placed a chaplet of red lilies in her hair

  which was tied up, to one side, in a bun.

  * * *

  VI.130

  This is how Goda was adorned, just before Ādiśeṣa, the Bed of Snakes, announced that the auspicious moment was drawing close. The constellations aligned themselves like tassels in her braids and the sphere of the Sun shone like twelve holy flames, while the Moon, enemy of the flower with a hundred petals, offered up shade like a cooling parasol. The Lord of Rivers arrived carrying gifts, sprinkling petals from red water lilies that he gathered as he passed through the marketplace.

  Like the coming of Nature herself, the groom’s party made up of the gods and their wives arrived bearing gifts. The God of Fire lit fragrant sandalwood incense while the God of Rain raised a processional canopy.

  Groups of bards recited ancient verses and told tales from royal chronicles while Nārada and Sananda, along with the other mind-born sons of Brahma, played festive music that touched the heart. The great bird Garuḍa carried Viṣṇu like a wild elephant fitted with a golden howdah studded with gems. And as the supernatural procession of gods and goddesses passed before Viṣṇucitta, he welcomed them all.

  Viṣṇu stretched out his hand and placed it on Viśvaksena’s shoulder as he got down from his vehicle. Then Viṣṇucitta, that most devout of devotees became so filled with excitement that he offered the most gracious of greetings in utter excess.

  Viṣṇu stepped foot in the doorway and was led inside by bright-eyed women who washed his feet in giant platters. Saints rushed in, falling on top of each other, yelling ‘Me first, me first!’ as they flooded in to drink that holy water, scooping up every drop until the Earth was left dry.