Arunagiri Malai

Arunagiri Malai

Page 3

Who could exist upon the earth,

Lord of Arunachala,

If you alone did not exist?

Without being born, you are.

Could then anyone die

Once they have taken birth in this world?

See, my heart,

When troubles come,

Arunachala's Lord will rush to the attack,

Protecting his devotees against them,

Just as the hand will instinctively grasp

A garment that is about to become untied.

In this there is no room for doubt.

Upon Mount Arunachala

Where lotus-filled tanks

And paddy fields,

All put forth a crop of pearls,

Lord Sankara, adorned with Uma's form,

You burn up the blossoms of doubt!

How then could it be, that in anger,

You consumed the god of love in flames?

Tell me, how could it be?

Once at our shrine of Kanchipuram,

Accepting my surrender,

The Lord of Arunachala,

He who shares his form with Mother Uma

Placed his foot upon my head

As men looked on,

And made me his own -

Yet still I cannot believe

How this could have been.(28)

As the bellows blow

Iron will soften and run like water,

But even though the minds of the great,

Those who delight in the one, Arunachala's Lord,

Will melt and dissolve,

Such a thing will be very hard indeed

For those of feeble mind

Who have not cut away the bonds of family and clan.

If we hold in our thoughts

The two feet of our father, Lord Arunagiri,

And meditate upon them,

We will obtain liberation,

We will abolish the deep suffering of birth,

We will reach the further shore.

I trusted in the words

That our Teacher and Master,

Lord Arunagiri, spoke to us,

Caring little

For our actions' powerful bonds,

Nor reaping the fruits

Of those good and evil deeds,

We shall dwell, my heart,

In the state of bliss.

I have seen and I have understood

And now I see no more of actions' fruit;

Henceforth my suffering is at an end,

For in the sacred hall of Aruna's Lord

Whom in ancient times Mal and Vishnu sought in vain,

I have seen him sway to the rhythm of his holy dance.

Lord Arunachala whom the moon adorns,

For one such as I

Who has forgotten you

And cherished this lustful body,

I see no means of escape from bondage,

No place where I might take refuge

Unless it is in you.

You who dispel my weakness, Lord of Arunachala,

Will you not grant me one request,

To save this wretch from destruction?

Will you grant that this mind of mine

That is just like a swing,

Rushing one way then the other,

Shall no more pass through the portals of birth?

Lord of Arunachala! I was born,

As my mother bears witness,

And I shall die.

But what can you know of these,

You who were never born?

Tell me!

For the ignorant who have not learned

To merge their thoughts

With the lotus foot of Arunachala's Lord,

What good will it do

To multiply their austerities?

And what difference will it make

If they meditate upon holy books,

Or if they do not?

First One, Arunachala's Lord,

When will the day come

That you place your foot of burnished gold

Upon my sinner's head?

Listen to me, great king!

The heart of one who has no thought of self

Is no different from that of one

Who joyfully fixes his thoughts upon you.

You have heard how all men extol you,

Saying that you will grant liberation

To those who meditate upon you.

I am one who has sung your praises,

Eternal Lord of Arunagiri;

May you grant me this very day

Your golden foot.

If they are forgetful of him,

weighed down by a mountain of troubles,

how shall men comprehend

the words of the fiery Mountain Lord

who appeared as a column of flame,

striking fear into the hearts of Mal and Brahma

as they boasted arrogantly, 'I am the Supreme'?

Lord of Arunachala,

On whom should I, your devotee,

Fix my thoughts

When deep sorrows beset me?

At what nurturing breast might I seek refuge?

Whom should I think upon

With melting heart?

When will the day come, my heart

That you fix yourself at the foot

Of southern Arunachala's Lord

And remain there

Beyond reproach and free of desire,

Like those who have escaped from bondage,

With no desire for gold and jewels,

Free of the troubles of the world.

Not knowing the ways of him

Who drank the ocean's poison,

Having no thought in my mind

Of the lotus feet of Arunachala's Lord,

I was born, alas, into the world

And remain there

Bewildered and exhausted.

Let him pinch his nostrils,

Let him sprinkle the threefold holy waters,(29)

Let him speak out in ringing tones -

When we consider the matter,

Can there be any profit in all this

For a sinner who does not fix his thoughts

Upon Arunachala's Lord?

If I do not trust in the twin feet

Of my father, Arunachala's Lord,

If my thoughts do not turn,

Time and time again, towards him,

What good will it do me to dress in rags?

What benefit shall I derive

From immersing myself in holy waters?

Supreme Lord, all of creation,

Moveable and immoveable, wanders in vain,

Offering no obeisance to you. Arunachala's King,

I have been born,

And may this be my final birth.

Take pity on me

That I may never take birth again.

Could it have been the reward

For chanting the sacred five syllables

And giving faithful service to my Guru

Over many, many lifetimes?

For now I have seen the golden foot

Of our refuge, Arunachala's Lord,

He who does not reveal his foot to all.

The liberation that arises in those devotees

Whose every thought is beyond reproach

And who devote themselves to the Lord of Arunachala,

He who is totally devoid of material form -

Could it ever be vouchsafed to those fools

Who are unable to cut off their attachment

To the three great desires?

Speak!

Did Brahma possess the great distinction

Of never entering the door of the womb?

Or Vishnu, who took on form

And grew to a great height?

Or any of the other gods

Whose sanctity is so great?

Other than my father and Lord of Arunachala

Is anyone so great that death cannot touch him?

Supreme Lord of Arunachala,

The teaching you impart is rare indeed,

Showing us how we may be spared

From entering a mother's womb.

In comparison,

All the teachings of other good men

Appear quite commonplace.

Fiery-eyed One

You whose breast is adorned

With a great garland of kondrai flowers!

Great Teacher!

You who flourish in your fair abode

Upon noble southern Arunachala!

Who is there who could tell your measure,

If you did not, in joy,

Proffer your golden foot And hold us in your sway?

No more shall I endure this illusory body

That is the dwelling place

Of three hundred and sixty maladies.

Lord of Arunachala,

You whose matted locks are adorned

With the waning moon and the River Ganga,

You have abolished birth henceforth

For myself, your devotee.

When will the day come that I am delivered

From the torments of 'I' and 'mine'?

You whose glory is everlasting,

Arunachala's King, our mountain refuge

Who stands before us as the essence

Of all that thought can encompass!

When will the day come that I slough off

The bondage of this physical form?

Lord of Arunachala,

The true and all-pervading supreme!

Before I breathe my last

May my eyes look upon you

As you come close to me,

And show me your golden foot,

Freeing this wretch from delusion

Through your love.

Father Arunachala whom rice fields surround!

May I never leave your presence

And be separated from you.

Free from death

May I magnify your glory

In sweet Tamil hymns.

This much you must grant me.

100

Those steadfast men who think upon

The Lord of Arunagiri's Mount,

He who shares his form with mother Uma,

In whom all virtue flourishes,

Will not be born into the world,

Or if they are born,

Though they forget their true nature,

They will not feel the deadly effects

Of good and evil deeds.

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(28) According to one version of Guhai Namasivaya's life, he had a vision of Siva in the shrine at Kanchipuram, a major Saiva temple to the south-west of Madras.

(29) This is an oblique reference to some of the many purificatory rites that some Hindus perform.