The Naalayira-divya Prabandham is the sacred collection of 4000 hymns of the twelve alwars or the saint-Poets of the bhakti school of Sri Vaishnavism. The prabandham is divided into four parts —Mudhalaayiram, Thirumozhi, Thiruvaaimozhi and Iyarrpa. The different parts explain the purport of the Tirumantra or Ashtaakshara On? Namoh Narayana. Thiruppaavai of Goda Devi or Sri Aandaal, consisting of 30 verses, forms part of Mudhalaayiram, the first 1000 of the canonical text. Another composition of hers, Naachiyaar Thirumozhi, consisting of 143 verses, also finds a place in this part of the text. Sri Aandaal belongs to the mainstream of the Vaishnavite mystical tradition, which is concerned with the personality of God. Goda Devi represents what is termed as ‘bridal mysticism’: She looked upon herself as the bride and the Lord as the bridegroom. Though other alwars have assumed the Nayakl Maya through their intense devotion to God, Sri Aandaal became in actuality the bride of the Lord.
The message of the poem is that the path of salvation is open to all true devotees. Sri Krishna himself states in the Bhagavad Gita that by taking refuge in him, even ordinary people can attain the supreme state. Bhakti or ‘ceaseless remembrance’ is the direct path to Mukti or ‘release.’ Bhakti is the king of Vidyas and the most royal among secrets. Thiruppaavai is, in essence, the awakening of the Lord to do his duty in the Kali Yuga.
Sri Aandaal, the ever-smiling compassionate Mother, leads her children unerringly along the glorious path, straight to the Lord’s Feet. Sri Ramanuja used to recite the poem even as he went round for bhiksha so much that he was known as ‘Thiruppaavai Jeer.’ Sri Vedanta Desika has described it as Godopanishad.
It is no wonder that the early mornings in the month of Margazhi (Dee-Jan) still ring with the sweet sounds of Thiruppaavai. A thousand years ago, there lived an Aandaal; four hundred years ago, there lived an Aandaal; four hundred years ago a Meera lit the lamp ofdevotion in a million hearts. And it was said that long before, there was another like them … called Radha.
A Note on the Divya Prabandha
In Indian tradition, there is no dichotomy between science and religion. The vedic rishis or sages, in their search for eternal truths, were pure scientists. The findings of the rishis were metaphorically related as stories in the Puranas. The alwars, who later created the Tamil Marai or Dravida Veda (The Four Thousand Divya Prabandhams), the siddhas and the nayanmars followed this tradition.
The theories about the origins of the universe, floods at the ends of eras, the blue sky giving place to the darkness of space, described as the colour of God, the theory of evolution represented by the Dashaavataars… the speculations open to the modern mind are endless.
The parallel tantric or yogic beliefs of the progress of the vital energy or serpent power through the various stages of earth, water, fire and sky or universe with Lord Narayana being the highest stage) are also expounded in the prabandhams.
The Story of Aandaal
In the eighth century A.D., the Vaishnavite saint-poet, Perialwar, also nown as Vishnuchittar, lived in Srivilliputhur, a temple-town in the Pandya tieingdom in South Tamil Nadu.
There, he grew a flower garden (Nandavanam) to offer worship to the deity of the temple, Vatapatrasayee (fie who reclines on the lotus leaf). The childless Perialwar consoled himself by singing songs about Lord Krishna’s childhood. In his songs, he often spoke in the voice of Yasoda, Krishna’s foster-mother. But soon, he was to become a foster-parent himself.
One day, in the month of Aadi (July-August), he found a very beautiful baby girl under the shade of a tulsi (sacred basil) plant in his garden. Perialwar adopted the baby and brought her up. She was named Kothai or Goda, meaning `giver of cows’ and suggestively, ‘of light.’
From a very tender age, Kothai would listen enraptured to the stories of Sri Krishna and other incarnations of Lord Vishnu. Both father and daughter spent their whole existence immersed in devotion to Lord Vishnu.
When other girls of her age started dreaming about marriage, Kothai discovered that she could never lead an ordinary life. She was firmly convinced that she was to become the bride of Lord Vishnu Himself.
Every day, Perialwar took a garland of flowers for Lord Vatapatrasayee to the temple. The saint would carefully collect the choicest blooms from his own garden and weave the garland with his own hands. For, he had dedicated himself to worship through flowers.
Secretly, Kothai used to adorn herself with the garlands and look into the mirror, wondering if she was worthy of her beloved Lord.
One day, her father came to know about this. He was horrified at what he considered as a sacrilege. He admonished his daughter and begged the Lord’s pardon for the ‘impurity’ of the garlands he had offered. It was too late to weave another garland and Perialwar could not fulfill his daily task.
That night, the Lord appeared to him in a dream and told him that though he had not brought the garland that Kothai had worn, He had accepted it with pleasure. The garlands were fragrant only because Kothai had touched them. “Hereafter, offer me only those that have been worn by Kothai,” said the Lord.
The next morning, Perialwar rushed to the temple bearing in his hands the garland worn by his little daughter. And every day, Lord Vatapatrasayee was garlanded by the flowers that had adorned Kothai. Henceforth, Kothai was called `sudikkodutha naachiyaar ‘, or ‘she who presented the garland worn by herself.’ She was also admiringly hailed as `Aandaal’ C She who conquered’ or, `She who became the Lord’s consort’).
Yet, Aandaal had to overcome many obstacles in her path towards her goal. Though her foster-father became more conscious of the depth of Aandaal’s bhakti, he did not consider it possible that his daughter was divine. He deemed it his duty as a father to seek a suitable bridegroom for his lovely girl who was growing up.
But Aandaal firmly declared, “No mortal shall I wed.” She would only be wife to the Supreme Purusha, Lord Vishnu. She asked her father to recite the various names under which Lord Vishnu dwelt in the sacred temples of the land. When the name of Ranganathar, the Lord of Sri Rangam was pronounced, Aandaal blushed with modesty. It was clear, then, whom she would wed.
Yet, the time had not come for Lord Ranganathar to claim his bride. Sri Aandaal could not bear the prolonged separation from her bridegroom. Suddenly, she thought of the penance that the Gopis had undertaken to attain Lord Krishna’s grace. The Bhagavatham had named it the Kathyaini Vrata. A similar practice called paavai nonbu seems to have been prevalent in the south. In the month of Margazhi, girls of marriageable age who wanted to obtain good husbands would take an early dip in the river, build a small paavai (female figure) on the river bank with sand and worship the image.
Sri Aandaal called together her friends in Srivilliputtur and undertook this penance. Sri Aandaal gave the nonbu a spiritual rather than a mundane perspective. It was a spiritual journey, an awakening of the desire for salvation and also a prayer to the Lord to do his duty in the era of Kali.
Srivilliputtur (which had, until Kothai’s advent been known simply as Villiputtur) seemed transformed into the village of the cowherds (aayarpaadi) and the worshipping maidens into Gopis. The temple was the mansion of Sri Krishna. The nonbu or penance which was observed on all the thirty days of Margazhi is the story behind the garland of thirty verses called Thiruppaavai.
At last, the long wait was over. Aandaal had hoped. She had persevered. Now, her hour of triumph approached. She had a prophetic dream of her wedding to the Lord. She has described in detail the elaborate rituals of the marriage ceremony in the poem Vaaranam Aayiram, which is a part of her other work, Naachiyaar Thirumozhi.
The Lord of Ranga appeared to Perialwar in a dream and ordered him to bring his daughter to Srirangam for the wedding. The Pandya king arranged a royal procession for the bride to Srirangam. Miracle upon miracle followed in quick succession. When the bridal party arrived at the ancient temple called the Vaikundham of the earth (Bhooloka Vaikundham), the temple authorities were there to receive them. Such was the Lord’s will!
Getting out of her pearl palanquin, Sri Aandaal, resplendent in her jewels and her happiness, walked through the long corridors of the huge temple, illumining them with her radiance.
At last, the echo of her anklets came to a standstill. When she reached the sanctum sanctorum, she stepped inside and disappeared, to take her place in the heart of the Divinity inside. Bride and Bridegroom, Soul and Saviour, Devotee and Deity were one at last.
This is the legend of Sri Aandaal. When did it all begin? Was it when, as a baby, she was discovered under the shade of the tulsi plant, like Seetha Devi in the sacred yajna soil? Or was it a grand romance, planned long ago realm of the gods and enacted upon the earth, a part of the Divine play or Leda? Who can tell? We can only listen with awe and delight to the story of sudikkodutha sudarkodi.
The Day Dawns
Sri Aandaal calls to the young maidens to start on their spiritual journey. Srivilliputtur seems transformed into Vrindavan of the days of Krishna and the Gopis.
The maidens are to observe the paavai nonbu to attain the Lord’s grace. The maidens of the ‘Prosperous cowherd dwellings’ arc rich in spiritual, moral and material wealth. The Lord to whom they pray is Krishna, the son of Nanda and Yasoda. A forceful image of Krishna’s foster parents and the majesty and radiance of the ‘young lion’, Krishna, is brought before our eyes. Sri Aandaal says that Sri Krishna is none other than the Supreme Lord — Sri Narayana Himself, who is the abode of all creation. With the blessings of the world at large, which will also benefit from their nonbu, they will obtain a drum (salvation) from the Lord for the completion of the penance. The Lord is renowned for his kindness towards the simplest of his devotees.
The month chosen for the nonbu is Margazhi which falls in December-January and is considered particularly holy. Festivals like the Vaikundha Ekadasi, occur in this month – it is believed that a special gateway, symbolic of the entrance to Vaikundhain, is opened to the devout. It is the month when groups of hymn-singers gather to rejoice in bhakti. Scientifically, too, it has been proved that in this particular season, exposure to the early morning air is conducive to good health.
Margazhi is indeed the best of months. The Lord in the Bhagavad Gita identifies himself with it.
The day chosen for the vrata is the full moon day, symbolic of the clarity of mind, right thoughts and happiness as well as the Divine Mother herself. The `Itaasa leela’ – the dance of Krishna and the Gopis – takes place on full-moon days. Thus, the spiritual aspirations of souls are heightened on full-moon days.
Bathing in the river is an important part of the rituals. Water is a universal symbol of purification and spiritual initiation. Rivers are considered particularly sacred in India. Indeed, pilgrimages are called Teertha Yaatras or ‘journey to a sacred place where there is a well, pond, lake, river or sea, the waters of which are considered holy’.
Thus, Sri Aandaal begins the Thiruppaavai on a most appealing note.
1
In the month of Margazhi,
On the good full-moon day,
Let us bathe in the waters,
O virtuous ones!
Dear girls of the prosperous
Cowherd-dwellings!
Sharp-speared,
hard-tasked Nandagopa’s Son,
Firm-eyed Yasoda’s
Young Lion,
The Dark-finned Red-eyed One,
With face like the radiant moon,
Narayana, Himself,
Will grant us salvation.
With the world’s blessings,
Let us offer worship, O my Maidens!
2
Dwellers of the Earth!
Will you hear
What we undertake
For the Penance of the Maidens?
Singing the praises
Of the Lord
Who sleeps
On the Ocean of Milk,
We will not partake of ghee nor milk.
Bathing in the early morning,
We will not apply
Kohl to our eyes,
Nor plait our hair
With flowers;
Will shun disobedience,
Carry no tales,
But handing
Charitable aid
To mendicants
And beggars,
To our capacity,
We will think good thoughts
And find fulfillment,
O my Maidens!
3
When we chant the name
Of Him who measured the world
With His outstretched foot,
Do service to our Maiden-deity
And bathe in the river,
All the land will be blessed
With timely rains in plenty,
And fish will frolic
Amidst the full-grown paddy stalks,
While spotted beetles drowse
In the water-lilies.
Great cows will gift
Pot after pot of milk
To tireless cowherds,
And lasting prosperity
Will abound,
O my Maidens!
4
Lord of the rains, mighty as the ocean,
Hide not your munificence,
But dip deep into the sea
And with thunderclaps,
Ascend the sky,
Dark as the form
Of the Ruler of Time,
Let lightning-shafts shine
Like the Discus
In the lissome hand
Of our mighty-shouldered
Padmanabha,
And Vibrate
Like His conch-blast!
As arrows unceasing fly
From His Bow Saranga,
Come with rain
This world to revive
And for us to bathe
And rejoice
In the month of Margazhi,
O my Maidens!
5
If we stand cleansed
And worship Him
With fragrant flowers,
The Mystic one,
The son of immortal
Mathura of the North,
Dweller of the banks
Of the pure wide Yamuna,
The lamp of the cowhead clan.
Damodara, light and meaning
Of His mother’s womb,
With His thought in our hearts,
Our past sins
And those lying in wait,
Will they not be destroyed
As dust in fire! Speak, O
my Maidens!
6
Lo! The birds chatter
And the white temple conch
Of the Lord of the Birds
Sounds its might!
Hear, child, and arise!
The One who
Suckled the life of the fiend,
And kicked the scheming cart-demon
To destruction,
He who reclines in sleep
On the water-bound snake,
Is the Cause, the Seed,
Which, placing in their hearts,
The Saints and Seers,
Raise the calm, great chant of ‘Hari!
Let it reverberate in yours
And bring joy,
O my Maidens!
7
With shrill voices
The Barathwaja birds
Gather all around
And screech.
Cans’t thou hear them,
Bemused maid?
Or, with jangling chains
And rapid hands
The herdswomen
Of the scented hair
Turn their churns
And the buttermilk swishes?
Chief among girls!
Can you listen
To our song
Of Lord Narayana Kesava
And lie still in bed?
Lovely princess!
Open your doors!
O my Maidens!
8
The horizon has lightened
And the buffaloes let loose
Have scattered to graze.
Behold! The other lasses who
Are ready to leave
Have stopped.
We call you
To assist us.
Beloved image! Arise!
If we seek and worship
The Lord of Lords,
Who tore open the mouth
Of the horse-shaped demon
And slew the wrestler
By Kamsa sent,
He will listen with compassion
And grant us grace,
O my Maidens!
9
On the gem-studded balcony,
Surrounded by long-stemmed lamps,
With incense burning,
You, who lie on the soft mattress,
Eyes closed in steep,
My uncle’s daughter!
Open your jewelled doors!
Aunt! Won’t you wake her up?
Is your daughter dumb,
Perhaps deaf, or lost her senses?
Why this great sleep? Is she under a spell?
Supreme Enchanter! Lakshmi’s Lord!
And such-like names
Have we invoked,
O my Maidens!
10
She who aspires to heaven
Through this penance,
Young lady!
Do they reply not, even,
Who open not their gates?
Narayana, with the fragrant garlands,
By us is praised
And grants us salvation,
By that virtuous
One Long ago,
Fell Kumbakarna
Into Death’s jaws.
Did he, vanquished,
Yield to you his slumber?
Great sleeper! Most rare jewel!
Come, bestir yourself
And your doors unbolt,
O my Maidens!
11
The milkers
Of great herds of cows
With young calves,
Who defeat their Enemies’ might in war,
The faultless cowherd clan’s
Own golden creeper!
Eyed like the hood
Of the ant-hill’s cobra,
Graceful peacock of the grove!
Awake now!
All our neighbourhood friends
Having entered your portals
Are singing the name
Of the cloud-hued One!
What reason, then,
O daughter of wealth,
For this still sleep and silence And thus long,
O my Maidens!
12
The buffaloes call to their calves
And in their young one’s thought
Make the whole house slushy
With milk from their udders.
O sister of the one
Who possesses such wealth!
With heads bedewed stand we
Grasping your door-posts,
Singing of the One
Who to anger provoked,
Slew the King of Lanka,
Of the sweet Lord Rama,
And yet you remain silent.
Wake up now, at least!
What means this great sleep?
All the neighbours
Are up and alert,
O my Maidens!
13
Singing the fame
Of the One who tore open
The mouth of the bird-demon,
Who weeded out
The wicked Ravana,
All the girls have reached
The sacred enclosure.
Thursday sleeps as Friday arises
And the birdsong has begun.
O flower-eyed one!
Bathe you not in the fresh cold water
But lie you still in bed, damsel?
On this auspicious day,
Leave your secret rejoicing,
And join us,
O my Maidens!
14
In your backyard pond
The rose-hued flowers smile open
And the lilies fold close;
The austere monks
In their brick-dust-red robes
Move towards their sacred temple
To sound the conches.
You, who promised to-wake us up,
Young maiden, unabashed,
Glib-tongued one!
Get up!
He who bears discus and conch
In His majestic arms,
The Lotus-eyed one,
Sing unto Him,
O my Maidens!
15
“Hey there, young birds, sleep you still?”
“Shout not harshly, girls, I’ll be there this instant.”
“Firm indeed are your phrases, We know them of old!”
“The firm ones are you!”
But so be it, I argue not
“Come hither swiftly, What delays you alone?”
“Has everyone arrived?”
“Yes, come and count yourself.
Let us sing of Him
Who slew the mighty
And overthrew the wicked,
Of the valiant one,
The Enchanter,
O my Maidens!
16
Sentinel at the temple-gates
Of our Lord Nandagopa!
Guardian of the garlanded arch
Over which the pennant flies!
Unlock the belled doors!
To us the cowherd girls
The mystic, sapphire-hued
One Yesterday had given his word.
Pure, we have come
To sing Him awake.
Mouth not words of refusal, now,
We beg,
But swing open
Those two doors
In friendship embraced,
O my Maidens!
17
Shelter, water, sustenance,
Doer of right,
My Lord Nandagopala, arise!
Flame of the cowherds,
Light of their clan,
My Lady Yasoda-awake!
He who pierced the sky
And measured this world,
Our own King-awake and rise!
Dear Baladeva of the golden thongs,
Are you and your young brother
Asleep still?
O my Maidens!
18
Daughter-in-law of the fearless
Nandagopa,
Strong as an elephant enraged,
O Nappinnai, of the sweet-scented hair,
Open your doors!
The fowls all around call
And on the flower creeper
The koels many times have cooed.
Shapely-fingered one!
As we sing your husband’s name,
With bangles tinkling
Round your lotus wrists,
Come and open your gates
And grant us happiness,
O my Maidens!
19
With long-stemmed lamps alight
Around the ivory-legged bed,
On the soft mattress
You lie clasping
Nappinnai of the flower-bedecked hair
In your broad shoulder’s embrace!
Do pronounce a word!
She of the kohl-lined eyes!
Never will you chase away His sleep,
Nor for an instant
Bear His parting!
In truth, it becomes not your Self,
O my Maidens!
20
He who precedes
The thirty-fold Gods
To prevent their subjugation,
Providence! Do awake!
Perfection! Omnipotent!
Who scorches the evil
In the fire of fear.
Taintless One!
Awake!
O golden, soft-bossomed Nappinnai!
With red-hued lips and tiny waist!
Goddess of Beauty!
Awake from sleep!
Grant us will and light
And your Husband’s presence
To bathe us in coolness,
This moment,
O my Maidens!
21
Son of Nanda
Owner of abundant
Great cows, who in their charity,
Unfailing make their milking-vessels
Bubble and flow over!
Awake!
Vigilant Saviour!
Great One!
Flame who stands manifest
In this world! Awake!
Enemies who lose their strength
To You come unconsoled
To surrender at
Your feet.
Come we likewise, with praises!
Sing His Glory
O my Maidens!
22
As the rulers of all the wide world
Gather in humility before your rooms,
Stand we with bowed heads.
As the lotus flower in half-bloom,
Like the belled ornament at Your feet,
May your lovely eyes
Open slowly upon us
Like the Moon and Sun
Together rising!
If, with those two eyes
You gaze on us,
All our past sins Will be destroyed,
O my Maidens!
23
As the lordly lion
Sheltered in the mountain-cave
The rains ceasing,
Wakes into awareness,
With sparks in his eyes,
Spreads his mane
And shakes off sleep,
Rises stretching
And with a roar emerges-
Thus come out,
Flower-blue One
From Your Temple
And here seated
On this sculpted throne,
Enquire into our mission
And grant us grace,
O My Maidens!
24
Eons back you measured the worlds-
Praise be to your Feet!
Thence went you Lanka to defeat,
Praise be to your Feat!
Broke the demon as cart disguised,
Praise be to your Fame!
Threw the evil calf as a staff-
Praise to your Anklets!
Lifted the hill as a sheltering umbrella-
Praise be your Grace!
Praise to your Lance
Victorious over enemies!
We who praise your Deeds
Ever as our salvation,
Come today to your
Mercy. Accept us!
O my Maidens!
25
Born to one and on the same night
Secreted to another’s place you grew,
Proving false Kamsa’s desire
Stood you, great Lord, as burning fire
In his belly.
We come to ask,
Your Self as alms!
If you grant us salvation,
We will sing
To your Lady’s content,
Of Your Wealth and Valour
And She, enraptured,
Will your parting forget,
O my Maidens!
26
O Thirumal! Gem-Blue One!
If you permit, we will relate
The rules our elders set
For those who undertake
The Sacred Margazhi bath-
Like Your Panchajanyam,
Milky-White,
Which makes the world tremble
With its call,
Conches we require,
Huge drums,
Singers of hymns,
Crafted lamps,
Pennants, streamers…
O Baby afloat on the Banyan leaf,
Grant us these,
O my Maidens!
27
O glorious Govinda!
Victorious over the hostile,
We sing of you and are redeemed-
Yet our prize still awaits.
Let us bedeck ourselves
With ornaments
In our hair and shoulders,
Bracelets, anklets, earrings,
And with such-like arrayed,
Dress in festive garments
And on milk-rice
Rich with ghee
That flows down our elbows
Feast together In your company’s cheer,
O my Maidens!
28
We will eat out in the woods
Driving our cattle before us.
Our ignorant cowherd clan to be so blessed
As to have you born amidst us!
O faultless one! O Govinda!
This, our relationship to you,
Will never fade. If we foolish children
Out of love
Address you with familiarity,
Do not arise in anger, Lord,
But grant us salvation.
29
The Maidens’ Pledge
At the very break of day
We come to worship you
O listen as we sing always
The glory of your golden-lotus feet!
If you who are born into our cowherd-clan
Do desist from making us your
Servitors
And thus granting this instant our salvation,
See then, O Govinda!
For ever and through the seven-fold births,
Yours we pledge to be.
To you alone our bondage
All other desires transform,
O my Maidens!
30
To Him who churned the Ocean
Madhava-Keshava,
The radiant cowherd maidens prayed
And were granted salvation.
This, in beautiful Srivilliputhur,
She who wears garlands
Of fresh lotus blooms,
Bhattarpiran’s own Kothai narrates.
Those who unerringly recite
These thirty verses of chaste Tamil
entwined,
Will be for ever blessed
By the Lord of majestic shoulders
Like mountains ranged,
Of stately eyes and beauteous mien,
Supreme Thirumal
And in His Divine Grace
Live happily ever,
O my Maidens!
