01 Periyazhvar Thiruppallaṇḍu & Thirumozhi (pāsurams 1- 473)

Praising the god

Let us praise the god and say, “Pallāṇḍu! Pallāṇḍu!” He, colored like a blue sapphire, conquered his enemies with his strong arms. We praise him forever, forever and forever and for many crores of years. Protect us as we are beneath your divine feet.
Let us praise the god and say, “Pallāṇḍu! Pallāṇḍu!” Let us live never apart from his devotees and him. Let us praise the beautiful Lakshmi seated on the right side of his strong chest. Let us praise the beautiful shining discus in his right hand. Let us praise the Panchajanyam conch that he blows on the battlefield.
Let us praise the god and say, “Pallāṇḍu! Pallāṇḍu!” O devotees, if you wish to serve him, come and carry sand and fragrance for his festivals. If you concern yourself only with food, we will not think of you as one of our devotees. We are from families that have not sinned for seven generations. He fought and destroyed the Rakshasas and their land Lanka. Let us praise him.
Let us praise him and say, “Pallāṇḍu! Pallāṇḍu!”. Come and join us to do service to him. If you realize always that your soul is he, there is nothing you need to think of to go to him. Praise, singing, “Namo, Nārāyaṇa!” in all towns and in all countries. O devotees, come and praise him with us.
O devotees, worship and praise Rishikesa, the king of the whole earth, who destroyed the Rakshasas and their large clan. Give up your old ways and join us and recite the thousand names of him. Bow to his feet and say, “Pallāṇḍu! Pallāṇḍu!”
Let us praise him and say, “Pallāṇḍu! Pallāṇḍu!” My father, his father and his grandfather, for seven generations they all worshipped him and served him who took the form of Narasimha on the evening of Sravaṇa Nakshatram day and destroyed Hiraṇyan, and let us praise him.
We brand our shoulders with the divine discus that shines like fire. For many generations we have served him at his temple who fought with Bāṇasuran with a thousand arms and a magical army, killing him with his discus making all his arms bleed. Let us praise that strong god and say, “Pallāṇḍu! Pallāṇḍu!”
O divine lord, you gave me prasadam with good ghee, betel leaves and nuts, ornaments for my neck, earrings for my ears and sandal paste to smear on my body. You gave me your grace so that I would become pure and wise and serve you. Let me praise you with the Garuḍa banner and say, “Pallāṇḍu! Pallāṇḍu!”
We, his devotees, wear the silk clothes he has worn, put on the thulasi garland like the ones that adorn him, eat the food that is left over after he eats, and do the service everywhere that he desires from us. On the days of the Sravaṇa festival, we praise him who rests on the snake bed and say, “Pallāṇḍu! Pallāṇḍu!”
From the morning of each day we serve him as his slaves and we will do the same in all our lives and in future generations praising him who will release us from birth and give us moksha. He was born on the auspicious Sravana day. He broke the bow of Kamsan in northern Madhura, and danced on Kalingan the five-headed snake . Let us praise and say, “Pallaṇḍu, Pallaṇḍu!”
Dearest god, I am an old devotee of yours, like Abhimānadungan, the king of beautiful Koṭṭiyur where there is no injustice. Devotees praise you who are pure in all ways with many names and say, “Namo Nārāyaṇa” with love. I will praise you and say, “Pallāṇḍu Pallāṇḍu”
Vishṇuchithan of Villiputhur praised the highest, the pure one with the bow Sarngam. If devotees recite these pāsurams and worship him saying, “Namo Nārāyaṇa” they will be with the highest lord, praising him always and saying, “Pallāṇḍu! Pallāṇḍu!”

Periyāzhvar’s Pillaithamil on Kaṇṇan : The birth of Kaṇṇan

Kaṇṇan, Kesavan, the lovely child, was born in Thirukkoṭṭiyur filled with beautiful palaces. When the cowherds sprinkled oil and turmeric powder mixed with fragrance on each other in front of Kaṇṇan’s house they made the front yards of the houses muddy.
When cowherds heard that the divine child was born, they ran, fell and shouted in joy. They searched for the baby and asked everyone, “Where is our dear one?” They beat the drums, sang, danced and joy spread everywhere in their village.
When the glorious child was born the cowherds entered with love into Yashoda’s house, saw him and praised him, saying, “See! Among all men there is no one equal to this child. He was born under the Thiruvoṇam star and will rule the world.”
The women of the cowherd village took the pots from the uṟi, rolled them in front of their houses and danced. The fragrant ghee, milk and yogurt spilled all over and they were crazy with joy and their thick soft hair became loose.
When the cowherds with pots, sharp mazhu weapons, staffs for grazing the cows and palm-leaf beds to lie on heard that the divine child was born, joined happily together and laughed with their jasmine-like teeth. They smeared oil on themselves and jumped into the water to bathe.
The cowherdess Yashoda massaged the baby’s hands and legs and gently poured fresh turmeric water on his body from the pot and bathed him. When she cleaned his lovely tongue, he opened his mouth and she saw all the seven worlds inside.
When the baby opened his mouth, the beautiful cowherd women saw the worlds inside, wondered and praised him, saying, “This is not a cowherd child. He is the supreme lord, This wonderful child is really the Māyan!”
The cowherds planted poles of victory in all directions on the twelfth day after the child was born and gave him a name of the god who lifted up the huge Govardhana mountain, and they carried him in their arms and rejoiced.
Yashoda said, “If I put him in the cradle, he will kick and tear the cloth. If I take him in my hands, he will hurt my waist. If I embrace him tightly, he will kick my stomach. I don’t have strength anymore to deal with him. I am tired, my friends!”
Vishṇuchithan, wearing a shining sacred thread, composed pāsurams that describe the birth of omnipresent Nārāyaṇan, Purushothaman of Thirukkoṭṭiyur, surrounded with flourishing paddy fields. If devotees recite these pāsurams all their sins will go away.

Padādi kesa paruvam. Beauty of Kaṇṇan from his feet to his head.

Come and see the lotus feet of the innocent child who was given to Yashoda by Devaki, his mother whose hair is decorated with beautiful garlands and is as sweet as the nectar that came out of the milky ocean. Come and see how he holds and puts his lotus foot in his coral-red mouth and tastes it. Come and see.
Come and see the ten perfect toes of the sapphire-colored child that look like an ornament studded with pearls, jewels, diamonds and pure gold. O girls with shining foreheads, come and see his perfect toes. Come and see his toes.
Come and see the child’s ankles that are decorated with shining silver ornaments as he drinks milk from Yashoda’s breasts, embracing her and resting peacefully. O beautiful girls, come and see his ankles.
See the knees of the child who ate fragrant ghee from all the pots that Yashoda had filled doing hard work, and when Yashoda beat him with a rope he crawled away from her with fear. O girls with bud-like breasts, come and see this child’s knees.
After drinking the milk from the breasts of the cruel devil Putanā and killing her, he rested on his snake bed Adisesha. Come and see the thighs of him who split open the chest of the heroic Hiraṇyan. O girls with round breasts, come and see his thighs.
Come, see the mutham of our dear child who was born ten days after the star Astham from the womb of Devaki the beloved wife of Vasudevan, the lord of many elephants that drip ichor. O girls, you smile like blooming flowers, come see the mutham of the child Achudan.
O girls with shining foreheads, come and see the waist adorned with strings of coral and beautiful pearls of the highest god who killed the mighty-trunked rutting elephant Kuvalayābeeḍam, took its ivory tusks and ran away. See his waist, come and see.
O girls, adorned with shining ornament, come and see the lovely navel of the cowherd chief Nandan’s son strong as a white-tusked elephant. He plays mischievously with a group of children and gives them trouble. Come and see his navel.
The cowherdess Yashoda fed him sweet milk from her breasts and tricked him and tied him up with an old rope without worrying about him. O girls ornamented with shining bangles, come, see the stomach of the child that has the dark color of the roaring ocean. Come and see his stomach.
Come and see his chest ornamented with the shining Kaustubham ornament studded with large diamonds. He pulled the huge mortar between two marudam trees and made them fall when Yashoda, tied him to it. O girls adorned with precious ornaments, come and see his chest.
Come and see the arms of the small child who kicked and took the precious life of Sakaṭāsuran when he came in the form of a cart. When he was only four or five months old he killed Putanā who had teeth sharp as swords. O girls with curly hair, come and see his shoulders. Come and see.
He carries in his hands a conch and a discus smeared with oil. Come and see the hands of the dark blue-colored child raised by Yashoda with eyes darkened with kohl. O girls decorated with precious ornaments, come and see his hands.
Come and see the neck of the small cowherd child being raised by Yashoda whose lovely hair is adorned with flowers swarming with bees. See his neck that swallowed all the worlds and the sky. O beautiful girls, see his neck. Come and see his lovely neck.
The cowherd women with their mouths red as thoṇḍai fruits kiss his red mouth, drink its nectar, and embrace him, saying, “You are a lion and you have a mouth as sweet as a thoṇḍai fruit, come.” O girls adorned with lovely ornaments, come and see his mouth red as a thoṇḍai fruit. Come and see.
Come and see the tongue of the child, that Yashoda lovingly cleans with turmeric powder when she bathes him. Come and see his eyes, mouth, teeth and nose. O girls whose hair swarms with bees, come and see.
Come and see the eyes of the lord, born as the son of Vasudevan to destroy the mighty Asurans and remove the suffering of the gods in the heavens. O girls ornamented with beautiful bangles, come and see his eyes. Come and see.
He with eyebrows shining like jewels was born to save the world to Devaki, beautiful as Lakshmi. She gave birth to him even though she was too young to have a child. O girls with breasts decorated with ornaments, come and see his eyebrows. Come and see.
Come and see the beautiful emerald earrings of the lord who happily swallowed the earth, hills, oceans and all the seven worlds. O girls adorned with beautiful ornaments, see his lovely emerald earrings.
When small girls carrying a winnowing fan and a small pot wander holding a puvai bird on their wrists and make play houses, the dear child of Yashoda grabs the birds from their hands and runs away. Come see his forehead. O girls decorated with precious jewels, come and see his forehead.
Carrying a beautiful golden stick in his hands he runs behind baby calves as the lovely sound of his anklets spreads everywhere. O girls with round breasts, come and see his curly hair.
The poet Puduvaippaṭṭan of southern Puduvai composed pāsurams using the words of Yashoda with dark curly hair as she described the beauty of her child from his feet to his head. If devotees recite these twenty-one pāsurams they will go to Vaikuṇṭam and abide there.

Yashoda’s lullaby for Kaṇṇan

O lord! Nanmuhan made a beautiful golden cradle studded with rubies and diamonds and sent it to you with his love. Thālelo, you took the form of a dwarf and measured the world and the sky, thālelo.
O lord, you hold all lives within you. Kabali, Shiva the bull-rider sent you a golden ornament studded with precious diamonds for your waist and a beautiful garland that was tied together with pomegranate flowers for a waistband. Do not cry, do not cry. thālelo, you measured the world for Mahābali, thālelo.
O dear lord with the goddess Lakshmi on your handsome chest, the king of the gods Indra brought musical anklets for your lovely fragrant lotus feet, gave them to you and stood nearby, thālelo. Your eyes are as beautiful as lotuses, thālelo.
The gods in the sky came and gave a valampuri conch, musical kolusu for your divine feet, round bangles for your beautiful hands, a sacred thread for your chest and a waistband. You have lovely eyes and a body dark as a cloud. O lion-like son of Devaki, thālelo, thālelo.
The god Vaishravanan, Kuberan, generous to all without discriminating, thought that a beautiful aimbaḍaithali and a necklace would be suitable for your beautiful chest where Lakshmi stays. He brings them, stands away from you and worships you. Thālelo, your body is as beautiful as a blue sapphire, thālelo.
Varuṇan thought that a necklace made of shining pearls born in a roaring ocean, precious high quality coral, and bangles made of singing conches would be suitable for you and sent them to you. You are decorated with a shining crown, thālelo, and you have handsome arms, thālelo.
The divine Lakshmi seated on a lotus that drips honey sent you a garland of forest thulasi and a garland of karpaga flowers that bloomed in the fertile grove in the sky to tie around your forehead. O king, do not cry, do not cry, thālelo, you rest on Adishesha in Kuḍandai, thālelo.
O Achuda! The earth goddess sent a dress, a small golden sword with a handle, golden bangles, a diamond ornament for your forehead and a shining golden flower on a stalk for you. You drank the poisonous milk from the breast of Putanā, thālelo. O Narayaṇa! Do not cry, thālelo.
Durga, the goddess who rides on a heroic deer sent you fragrant powder to put on your body, turmeric for your bath, kohl for your beautiful large eyes and red kumkum to decorate your forehead. O dear child, do not cry, do not cry. Thālelo, you rest on a snake bed in Srirangam, thālelo.
The Paṭṭan of Puduvai composed lullaby songs that Yashoda sang for kohl-colored Kaṇṇan who drank milk from the breast of the cunning Putanā when she came to kill him. If devotees learn these pāsurams well and recite them their lives will be free of all difficulties.

Ambulipparuvam - Yashoda calls the moon to come and play with Kaṇṇan

As he crawls and plays in the sand making himself dirty, the chuṭṭi ornament on his forehead swings around and the golden kiṇgiṇi bells on his feet ring loudly. O young beautiful moon! If you have eyes on your face, come here and see the mischievous play of my son Govindan.
My small dear child, sweet as nectar, calls you with his small hands, pointing to you again and again. If you really want to play with the dark-colored one, do not hid in the clouds. O lovely moon, come running happily to play with him.
Even though you are surrounded by a shining wheel of light and you spread light everywhere, whatever you do, you cannot match the beauty of my son’s face. O lovely moon, come quickly. My clever son, the lord of the Venkaṭam hills is calling you. Don’t make him keep pointing at you and hurt his hands. O lovely moon, come running happily to play with him.
As I hold him on my waist, my son opens his flower-like eyes wide and calls you as he points to you with his sweet fingers. O bright moon, if you know what is good for you, don’t try to fool us. You aren’t someone who doesn’t know how precious a child is. Come and see him.
He calls you loudly with his prattling words that come from his beautiful nectar-filled mouth. You move and don’t stop even when the beautiful one, the god Sridharan who is in all, calls you again and again. Does that mean that your ears are stopped up and you cannot hear if someone calls you? Tell me, O wonderful shining moon.
Our dear lord with a club, a discus and a conch in his strong hands wants to rest and yawns. If he doesn’t rest, he can’t digest the milk that he drank. O lovely moon, you are merely wandering in the sky. Run and come quickly to him.
Don’t ignore him thinking he is just a little boy. He slept on a banyan leaf in the ancient time, and if he gets mad at you, he will jump on you and catch you. Don’t disrespect him. He is Thirumāl. O lovely moon, run and quickly come happily.
Don’t ignore him thinking that he is a small child. See, he is like a young lion. Go and ask the king Mahābali about the few words that Vāmaṇan spoke to him . If you make a mistake and think he isn’t strong, you will soon be needing his help. O full moon, Neḍumāl calls you to come to him soon.
He took a lot of butter from the pots with his small hands and swallowed as much as he wanted and his stomach is full and looks like a pot. If you don’t come when he calls you loudly, he will throw his discus at you— there is no doubt about it. O lovely moon, if you want to survive, run and come happily.
Vishṇuchithan, the poet from flourishing Villiputhur composed these Tamil pāsurams that describe how Yashoda whose large eyes were decorated with kohl called the moon to come to play with her son. If devotees recite all these pāsurams, they will have no trouble in their lives.

Sengeeraip paruvam - Crawling Kaṇṇan.

You, the highest one, the creator of the world swallowed it into your beautiful stomach rest gently on a banyan leave that floats on the ocean whenever the world ends and begins again. You have a body dark as kohl, your eyes are long and beautiful like lotus flowers and your ears are decorated with precious shining emeralds. O dear one, crawl gently. Do not shake Lakshmi, the goddess of wealth who stays on your chest. You should think of her safety. Shake your head and crawl for me once. You are a bull and you fight for the cowherds. Crawl, crawl.
You wanted to prove what Hiraṇyan’s son Prahalādan said was true and took the form of a man-lion and split Hiraṇyan’s body with your sharp claws as the Asuran’s blood flowed out and spread everywhere. When Indra the king of gods was angry with you because you ate the food that the cowherds had kept for him and he made the dark clouds pour stones as rain and the winds blow wildly, you carried Govardhana mountain as an umbrella and protected the cows. Shake your head and crawl for me once. You are a bull and you fight for the cowherds. Crawl, crawl.
You, our chief, the meaning of all the four Vedas and the mother of Nānmuhan sitting on a beautiful lotus on your navel, grew tall, crossing all the earth, the world of the stars and anything above them for Mahābali, conquered the elephant Kuvalayābeeḍam and killed the seven bulls that came to fight with you. O dear one, shake your head and crawl for me once. You fought for the cowherds. Crawl, crawl.
You fought with Sakaṭāsuran and killed him as the gods in the sky rejoiced, drank the poison from the breasts of the cunning devil Putanā and killed her, threw Vathsāsuran when he came as a calf onto Kabithāsuran when he stood disguised as a wood-apple tree and killed both of them and, mighty as an elephant, you fought with the strong Asurans Thenahan, Muran and cruel Vennarahan in a terrible battle and killed all of them. O dear one, shake your head and crawl for me once. You are a bull and you fight for the cowherds. Crawl, crawl.
Mighty, you kicked with your legs and fought with your hands the two Asurans when they came as marudam trees and stole and swallowed yogurt and ghee kept by the beautiful cowherd women with long curly hair. You do not know how to smile with your pearl-like small teeth yet. You crawl and dance as your beautiful thick hair sways. O dear one, shake your head and crawl for me once. You are a bull and you fight for the cowherds. Crawl, crawl.
You are colored like a dark kāyām flower or a dark cloud. O my little child, you danced on the snake Kalingan in a deep pool in the forest, took away the tusks of the strong rutting elephant Kuvalayābeeḍam, and when the wresters sent by Kamsan came to fight with you looking for the right time, you fought with them and killed them and danced with your two feet. O dear cowherd! Shake your head and crawl for me once. You are a bull and you fight for the cowherds. Crawl, crawl.
You listened to the words of the strong cowherds, fought and controlled seven strong bulls and married the dark-haired Nappinnai, lovely as a peacock. You went on a bright shining chariot, searched for the lost children, found them and brought them back to their mother. O dear one, shake your head and crawl for me once. You are a bull and you fight for the cowherds. Crawl, crawl.
The cowherd women carry you on their waists, take you to their homes, do whatever they like to do with you and lovingly care for you. When the young girls see you, they become happy, and if learned people praise you, you give them your grace. You, the lord who give me your grace and remove my sorrows, stay in the eternal Thirukkurunguḍi, Thiruveḷḷaṛai and Solaimalai surrounded with forts and you are the nectar that stays in Kaṇṇapuram. O dear one, shake your head and crawl. You are the lord of all the seven worlds. Crawl, crawl.
When you crawl, the fragrance of milk, ghee, yogurt, pure sandalwood, shenbaga flowers, lotuses and good camphor spreads everywhere. The tiny teeth in your lovely coral-red mouth shine like beautiful small silver stars. The nectar that is as sweet as a fruit drips slowly from your mouth and runs through the lovely aimbaḍaithāli on your blue chest. You are the perfect meaning of the four Vedas. Shake your head and crawl. You are the lord of all the seven worlds. Crawl, crawl.
The tiny soft petal-like toes of your red lotus feet are adorned with silver rings, your anklets, with kiṇkiṇis, your waist, with a golden chain mingled with beautiful pomegranate flowers, your arms, with rings and bracelets, your ears, with emerald ear rings and vāḷi ornaments, and your splendid chest with an auspicious aimpaḍaithali. You are the king of our tribe and the lord of all the seven worlds. Crawl, crawl.
Beautiful Yashoda, her walk like a swan’s, praised her divine child, saying, “O chief of cowherds, you took the forms of a swan, a fish, a man-lion, a dwarf and a turtle. You remove my sorrows. Shake your head and crawl. You are the lord of all the seven worlds. Crawl, crawl.” The famous Paṭṭan of Puduvai composed ten Tamil pāsurams that describe how Yashoda tells of her son crawling. If devotees recite these ten Tamil pāsurams they will become famous in all the eight directions and be happy. Clapping hands - Yashoda asks Kaṇṇan to clap his hands
As the ruby kiṇgiṇis on your feet jingle, the precious golden chain on your waist sways and the pearl-like teeth in your coral mouth shine, you clap the hands that took the land from the king Mahābali O little one with dark curly hair, clap your hands.
The bells tied on the golden chain on your waist, and the kingini bells decorated with rubies that are tied on your waist jingle as the chuṭṭi ornament on your forehead swings. O magical one, come down from my lap and go sit on the lap of the chief of cowherds Nandagopan, your father, and clap your hands. Clap your hands.
O my sapphire-colored child adorned with shining golden earrings with many diamonds, pearls and precious corals, smiling with your jewel-like mouth that makes your face lovely, come to your mother’s lap and clap your hands. You carry the discus in your beautiful hand, clap your hands.
Your father, the chief of the cowherds, called the moon, saying, “O bright moon! You crawl in the sky! Come to our porch, shine with your white rays and play with my child.” Clap your hands so that your father, the chief of the cowherds, will praise you and be happy, You rest on the water in Thirukuḍandai, clap your hands.
You filled your hands with mud and dirt from the cowherd village and threw them at me. You entered our house when I was not there and stole yogurt and butter from large pots. You are like a loose calf that is not tied up. Clap your hands, O Padmanabha, clap your hands.
When a hundred Kauravas did not listen to their father’s advice and came to fight with the Paṇḍavas, you became the charioteer for Arjuna in the battle and killed the Kauravas who wanted to rule the land. Clap your hands that drove the chariot, O lion-like son of Devaki, clap your hands.
When Varuṇan hid and shot his arrows to stop you from building a bridge to Lanka, as Rāma, you shot arrows to calm the waves of the ocean and the ocean allowed you to go to Lanka. Clap with the hands that carry the bow Sarnga that shot those arrows. Clap your hands.
When you came as Rāma to the earth, the monkeys, your helpers, built a strong bridge on the roaring ocean and you went to Lanka, shot your arrows on the battlefield and killed the Rakshasas, the rulers of Lanka surrounded with wide oceans. Clap your hands that shot those arrows, you with a discus in your hands, clap your hands.
You came out of a tall pillar in the form of a huge man-lion when Hiraṇyan broke it and you split open his strong chest with your shining claws. You drank the milk from the breasts of the female devil Putanā and killed her. Clap your hands.
When the gods churned the deep milky ocean, you joined them and helped them using the mountain Mandara as a churning stick and the snake Vasuki as the strong rope. Clap with the hands that churned the milky ocean, you who are as beautiful as dark clouds, clap your hands.
Vishnu Paṭṭan of Villiputhur that is surrounded by blooming groves that spread fragrance all day composed with love ten Tamil pāsurams praising Kaṇṇan, the king of the cowherds, born to protect the cowherds. If devotees recite these ten pāsurams about Kaṇṇan clapping his hands, their karma will disappear.

Toddling. – Kaṇṇan as a toddler.

Like an elephant with chains on his feet dripping with ichor that walks slowly as his chain makes the noise “chalar, pilar,” and the golden bells hanging on both side of him ring won’t my child with the Sārnga bow walk as the bells of the kiṇgiṇis on his feet ring loudly? Won’t he toddle with his lovely feet?
Won’t the sapphire-colored Kaṇṇan, the child of Vasudeva, ornamented with a chain made of shell on his waist and a turtle-shaped pendant toddle as the small white teeth in his coral mouth shine like the crescent moon in the red sky? Won’t he toddle?
He, Rishikesa, the bright one, wears a chain that shines like lightning, his hair is decorated with an arasilai ornament that shines like the white moon, he wears a silk dress and his dark cloud-like neck is adorned with the bright golden karai ornament that shines like lightning. He looks beautiful. Won’t he toddle?
When the dark cloud-colored lord with Lakshmi on his chest laughs with the sound “gaṇa, gaṇa,” it sounds like sugarcane juice pouring through the hole of a pot. He delights his parents as he comes and kisses them with his sweet nectar-like mouth. Won’t he toddle on his enemies’ heads and conquer them?
As the little Kaṇṇan runs swiftly behind his elder brother Baladeva who is praised by the whole world, he looks like a dark baby mountain running swiftly behind a large silver mountain. Won’t the little child running behind his good brother toddle?
He has on his right foot the sign of a conch and on his left foot the sign of a wheel and when he walks with his two feet, he makes the marks of the wheel and conch on the ground. He toddles and gives me a flood of the joy again and again. Won’t the dark ocean-colored one, the father of Kama, toddle?
He walks as the saliva from his red lotus mouth continually drips slowly like small cool drops of dew. The bells that decorate his dress ring “gaṇa gaṇa” like the bells tied on the neck of a strong bull. Won’t he with his Sarngam bow toddle on his soft feet?
When Vasudevan, the sapphire-colored lord came to the world in the form of a child, people had never seen such a marvelous child before. He toddles as his shining chain made of shells that decorates his waist sways like a white waterfall dropping on a black hill. Won’t he toddle?
Thrivikraman plays throwing mud on himself like a dark elephant calf playing in the sand and throwing white dirt on his body. Won’t he toddle on the cool soft flower-covered earth without hurting his small feet that are like freshly blooming lotuses as his body sweats with small drops of water? Won’t he toddle?
When Kesavan with beautiful eyes that shine on his moon-like face toddles, his chuṭṭi ornament glitters and swings like the shadow of the moon in rippling water. The small drops of saliva dripping from his mouth give boons to his devotees even more than the water of the Ganges that showers drops from its rolling waves. Won’t he toddle?
The famous poet Vishṇuchithan of the Veyar clan described how the dark-colored lord born in the cowherd tribe toddled giving joy to his mother and making his enemies tremble. If devotees recite these pāsurams of Vishṇuchithan they will get children who worship the feet of the dark jewel-like Māyan .

Yashoda embraces Kaṇṇan. Acho - Acho, what a wonderful thing it is? How sweet it is.

O dear one, you run fast and come in front of me like a cloud filled with lightning as the golden kiṇginis that adorn your feet make the sound “chalan, chalan.” Come and stay on my waist, acho! acho! O dear one, come and embrace me, acho, acho.
As your dark hair falls on your coral mouth it looks as if bees were coming to drink nectar on a red lotus. Come and embrace me with your beautiful hands that carry a conch, bow, sword, club and discus. Come and stay on my waist, acho! acho! Come and embrace me tightly, acho, acho.
O dear one, you went as a messenger for the Paṇḍavas and fought for them in the Bharatha war, entered the pond where the snake Kalingan lived, killing him and giving your grace to the cowherds. You have the dark color of kohl, acho, acho. O dear child of the cowherds, come and embrace me, acho, acho.
When you asked a hunch-backed woman, a servant of king Kamsan, to give you the fragrant sandal paste that she was carrying for the king, she took it and smeared it on your body without being afraid of the king and you straightened her back. Come and embrace me, acho! acho! O dear one, come and embrace me, acho, acho.
You carry a discus in your hands. When you went to Duryodhana’s assembly, he, surrounded with heroic ankleted kings, shining like a sun, saw you and stood up but then sat again and looked at you angrily. You looked at Duryodhana with fiery eyes and destroyed his evil thoughts, acho, acho. Come and embrace me, acho, acho.
You with big and dark eyes and a body as dark as a cloud became the charioteer for Arjuna adorned with beautiful garlands, fought in the battle with the Paṇḍavas and removed the troubles of the earth. Come and embrace me tightly, acho, acho, O bull that fights for the cowherds, acho, acho.
When the rishi Sukrachariyar said it was not good to give the boons that the dwarf asked and wished to stop the sacrifice of the famous king Mahābali, you were angry at the rishi and injured his eyes with a stick. You carry a discus in your right hand, acho, acho, and a conch in your left hand, acho, acho.
You became angry when Namusi the son of Mahābali said, “What is this magic? When you asked for land from my father, you were a dwarf but now you have become so tall that you measure the earth and the sky. My father didn’t know your tricks. You should have taken your real form when you asked for land and measured the earth,” You lifted up Namusi and threw him down to the earth from the sky. O you with a shining crown, embrace me, acho, acho you are the god of Thiruvenkaṭam hills, acho, acho.
When Nānmuhan’s head was stuck to Shiva’s palm because of a curse, Shiva, with matted hair, came and begged you, saying, “Even all the deep oceans, the mountains and the seven worlds cannot fill this Nānmuhan’s skull that has stuck to my hand. O dark cloud-colored lord, help me!” and you filled Nānmuhan’s head with your blood. Embrace me, acho, acho, you with the mark of Srivatsam on your chest, acho, acho.
Once when thick darkness covered the world and all the four omnipresent Vedas disappeared, you became a swan and removed the darkness of the earth. Embrace me, acho, acho. You taught the divine Vedas to the rishis, acho, acho.

.107. Saying, “Come, acho, acho!” Yashoda called her son, the lord Nārāyanan. If his devotees call him, he comes in front of them. Vishṇuchithan, the chief of Puduvai city, filled with beautiful palaces and porches, composed pāsurams with Yasoda’s words. If devotees recite these pāsurams every day they will go to heaven and rule the sky.

Puṛam pulhal - Kaṇṇan embracing Yashoda.

My little child comes and embraces me from behind as his ornaments make the sound “choṭṭu, choṭṭu,” sounding like pearl-like drops falling from the tops of shining diamond-like buds in a garden. Govindan comes and embraces me.
My dear child Kaṇṇan, his feet adorned with kingiṇi bells, his hands with coral bracelets and his neck with a chain dances, walks, comes beautifully and embraces me from behind. My lovely child, embraces me from behind.
The highest lord was born to destroy the clan of the evil king Duryodhana who kept his abundant wealth and lands for himself without sharing them with his Pāṇḍava relatives. He comes and embraces me from behind, the bull among the cowherds embraces me from behind.
When Arjuna worshiped Kaṇṇan, the king of the gods, and asked for help saying, “O lord with the sword Nāndagam, you are the best among men and my refuge," you drove Arjuna’s strong jeweled chariot, terrified the enemy kings of the Pandavas and defeated them. He, the king of gods embraces me from behind.
He took the form of Vāmanan, carried a brass pot and an umbrella, sang songs under flourishing groves, played, and went to king Mahābali. When he received a boon from Mahābali, he took over the earth and the sky as his devotees praised him, saying, “Pallāṇḍu!” He comes and embraces me from behind, that short Vāmanan embraces me from behind.
He took the form of a handsome dwarf bachelor, and, carrying an umbrella, went to king Māhabali’s sacrifice, asked for a boon, and measured the world, taking the earth, the sky and all lands as all the kings looked on. He comes and embraces me from behind.
Our lord as a sweet child turned over the wide-mouthed mortar, climbed on it and stole the sweet milk and butter from the pot, swallowed all of it and filled his divine stomach. He comes and embraces me from behind. The lord with the discus, embraces me from behind.
The lord climbed on a sand hillock, played his flute and danced a village dance as the old cowherds of the village looked on happily and was worshiped by the rishis and praised by the gods. He comes and embraces me from behind. My sweet child comes and embraces me from behind.
The lord promised his beloved wife that he would bring the Kalpaka plant from Indra’s world, went there and brought it and planted it in her front yard where the moon shines. He embraces me from behind, the god of gods embraces me from behind.
Yashoda, the cowherdess with round bamboo-like arms, described how the lord with a discus embraced her from behind when he was a child. Vishṇuchithan put Yasoda’s words into pāsurams. If devotees recite these ten Tamil pāsurams they will get good children and live happily.

Appuchi Kāṭṭal - When Kaṇṇan threatens the cowherd girls as if he were a goblin, they complain about his mishievousness to Yashoda..

The lord with a conch in his left hand that sounds in victory and plays delightful music on his flute went as a messenger to the Kauravas for the Paṇḍavas when they had lost everything to the dishonest gambling of Sakuni and, unable to keep even ten cities, had to fight the Bharatha war to get their land back. He comes as a goblin and frightens us. That dear one comes as a goblin and frightens us.
The lord with beautiful eyes who gives his grace to all his devotees, stood with Arjuna on a strong chariot in the Bharatha war and helped Arjuna bend?? his bow to destroy many kings with arms strong as mountains along with warriors and his hundred Kaurava foes. He comes as a goblin and frightens us, that dear mischievous one comes as a goblin and frightens us.
Our lord, the clever one, the cowherd, plays beautiful music on his flute, climbed on a Kaḍamba tree, jumped from it into the foaming water and danced on the head of the evil Kalingan as the bells on his anklets sounded. He comes as a goblin and frightens us, That dear one comes as a goblin and frightens us.
The lord Kaṇṇan was born in the night, raised in a poor cowherd village killed the evil king Kamsan, and took away the suffering of the cowherds. He stole our pretty silk dresses. He comes mischievously as a goblin and frightens us, that dear one comes and frightens us.
He killed Sakaṭāsuran when the Asuran came as a cart yoked to bulls. The dear child was pulled with a rope used to churn yogurt and tied on mortar by Nandan’s wife Yashoda. He comes as a goblin and frightens us, that dear one comes as a goblin and frightens us.
The dear child of Devaki with young soft breasts like cheppu stole and swallowed ghee, milk and yogurt that we, the cowherd women kept. He comes as a goblin and frightens us, that dear one comes as a goblin and frightens us.
Did Yashoda adopt this child or did she give birth to him? She loves him no matter what. That dark-haired child, decorated with bunches of flowers, dear Gopalan, the young lion-like son of Yashoda, comes as a goblin and frightens us, that dear one comes as a goblin and frightens us.
As Rāma our lord obeyed his stepmother after she heard the words of cruel Manthara, gave away his precious elephants, horses and his earthly kingdom to his brother Bharathan and went to the terrible forest. That dear one with lovely eyes comes as a goblin and frightens us, he comes as a goblin and frightens us.
The majestic lord came riding his eagle and saved the elephant Gajendra when. caught by a terrible crocodile, he cried out, “O my Kaṇṇā, my Kaṇṇā!” He, the protector of his devotees, comes as a goblin and frightens us, that dear one comes as a goblin and frightens us.
Vishṇuchithan composed ten pāsurams describing how as Rāma our god destroyed the strong Rakshasas of Lanka with his bow and how he came as a goblin and frightened the cowherd women in the cowherd village. If good devotees recite the ten beautiful “appuchi kāṭṭal” pāsurams, they will go to Vaikuṇṭam and stay there forever.

Yashoda calling Kaṇṇan to come and drink milk

You are a bull among the cowherd and you rest on the snake bed Get up to drink your milk. You have not eaten in the night and slept and even today you have not got up until afternoon. You stomach looks empty. My beautiful breasts are filled with milk. Come and drink milk happily with your divine mouth as you kick me with your feet.
Since you were born, I have not seen the ghee, the boiled milk, thick yogurt and fragrant butter that I kept. You have done whatever you like with them. Don’t get upset, I won’t punish you. Smiling with your pearl-like teeth, come and drink milk from my breast.
If their children cry and go to their mothers because you hit them while you played with them, their mothers get upset and they come and complain about you. You aren’t worried and ignore them. Your father doesn’t care about their complaints and I don’t have the heart to shout at you. O lovely son of Nandagopan, come and drink the milk that comes from my breast.
I was afraid that your feet, soft as cotton might have been hurt when you kicked Sakaṭāsuran when he came as an illusory cart sent by Kamsan. O king of the gods, you, the protector of the cowherds, destroyed Kamsan with your cunning deeds. Come and drink the milk from my breast.
If Kamsan, intending only evil, gets angry at you, finds the right time, and comes and attacks you with his magic when you are tired and hurts you, I will not live without you. O Vasudeva, you know it is good to listen to mother’s advice. I tell you strongly, don’t go. You are the bright light of cowherd village. Come, sit and drink milk from my breast.

133.You stay in Villipputhur happily where the bees that buzz sweetly swarm around the long hair of women with waists as thin as lightning. The people see you and praise your mother, saying, “What tapas did his mother do to give birth to this son?” O Rishikesha, come and drink the milk from my breasts.

Women, wishing to give birth to a child like you, see you and do not leave you. Wearing flowers in their hair that swarm with bees, they look at you passionately and want to kiss you and drink the nectar from your mouth. They stand near you wondering how to take you to their homes. O Govinda, come and drink the milk from my breasts.
You burned the bodies of the two mountain-like wrestlers when they came to oppose you. Come, climb on my lap, rest your chest where Lakshmi stays on my body and drink the milk from one of my breasts as you rub my other breast with your fingers. Come and drink milk eagerly from one breast and then the other.
As you play in the front yard your red lotus-like face sweats and the drops of that sweat look like precious pearls that fall on a beautiful lotus blossom. Don’t make your body dirty with the mud you are playing in. You, the king of the gods, gave nectar to the gods and pleased them. Come and drink the milk from my breasts.
I thought that you are Padmanabhan as you come running, your kingiṇi ornaments sounding like music. You dance and dance swaying as you come. Don’t run away dancing and dancing for the music, that your kiṇgiṇi makes. O, best among men, come and drink milk from my breasts.
Yashoda with a band around her breasts called her child saying, “Madhava, come and drink milk!” The famous Vishṇucithan of Villiputhur where the kuvaḷai flowers spread their fragrance as they bloom in the ponds composed pāsurams about how the cowherdess Yashoda called her son. If devotees recite these pāsurams their hearts will think only of the lovely-eyed Thirumāl.

Yashoda calls Kaṇṇan to come to pierce his ears.

You, with your beautiful blue ocean-colored body, wander around everywhere alone. Your proud father has not returned home from his work. Kamsan, the strong, brave fighter is cruel and there is no one to save you from him. You, the crazy one, drank milk from the breast of the devil Putanā.. You are the best among men, O Kesava! All the cowherd women have come here to see the ceremony of having your ears pierced and I have prepared betel leaves and nuts to give them.
O Nārāyaṇā, you are never away from the hearts of devotees if they approach and worship you. Come to me wearing the beautiful coral chain on your waist as the kiṇgiṇi ornaments on your lotus feet sing. I will put threads through the holes in your ears without hurting you and I will decorate your ears with earrings. See these golden earrings lovely to look at.
I bought and kept for you emerald earrings, shaped like fish that live in the ocean, so expensive that even the whole earth would be not enough to buy them. I will put threads through your ears without hurting you. I will give you all the things that you want. O radiant one, born in the cowherd clan to save the cowherds, you attract the minds of the young cowherd women by your magic. O Madhava, come.
O Govinda, the cowherd children wear earrings studded with beautiful diamonds that hang down from their ears— see, they are good children. O Govinda, why don’t you listen to me? If you wear these lovely earrings I will give you sweet jackfruit to eat and the milk from my beautiful breasts. Listen to me, my dear one. I plead with you—come here.
O dear child, even when I beg you and say I worship you, you don’t listen to me. How can I think you are a good child when you join the curly-haired girls, dance the kuravai dance with them and come back late? O dear child, if you will let me put the thread in your ears I will give you large appams even though you are naughty. You are the lord of the sky, your hair is as dark as a cloud and the girls with round arms like bamboo love you. Come here.
You cried so loud that even the sky-dwellers could hear you. When I looked into your mouth, I saw the whole earth inside and I was frightened as I thought that you are the Madhusudanan. See, even your ears know that there will not be any wound. Just bear with me, my dear child! You, our protector, are lovely like a dark cloud and have the color of the ocean. Come and drink the milk from my breasts.
You said, “I don’t want your milk” and ran away with the earrings. When the rain of stones fell, you carried Govardhana mountain happily and protected the herd of cows. O Thirivikrama, you broke the bow of Shiva and you are the chief of the beautiful cowherd village. I didn’t put the thread on your ears when you were a baby because I was worried your head wouldn’t stay still. Wasn’t that my mistake?

146 O dear child! you complained and said, “See, mother, you shouldn’t say it is my fault. When I ate mud, you caught me and hit me. Didn’t you show your friends my mouth and tell them I had eaten mud?” O dear one, aren’t you Vāmanan with an eagle, the enemy of the evil snake, on your flag? If I do not put threads in, the holes on your ears will close. O beloved lord who remove the troubles of your devotees, I’m telling you the truth, I won’t hurt you. Come and let me put in the thread.

O Sridhara, you complain saying, “Mother, you believed what others said and punished me. Isn’t it true you thought I had stolen the butter? And didn’t you pull me and tie me to the mortar? Everyone saw me tied to the mortar and made fun of me.” O, dear child, listen. If you keep complaining about what happened, laughing and wasting time, the holes in your ears will close. Come, I will put the thread in your ears before the beautiful women standing here laugh at you.
O dear child, you said, “Mother, what would it matter to you and these lovely women if my ears swell up and hurt?” I didn’t put the thread in your ears when you were young because I was worried it might hurt you. It is my fault. Don’t you see how all the children wandering around the cowherd village have had threads put in their ears? O Rishikesha, you killed Arishṭasuran and Vasthasuran by throwing a young calf at them.
You, a lovely child, stay sweetly in the thoughts of the beautiful girls with hair decorated with fragrant flowers who always look at you with love. You are our sweet nectar. I will give you fruits to eat. I will put the thread in your ears without hurting you, O Padmanabha, who kicked Sakaṭāsuran when he came as a cart and killed him. Come here.
O dear child, you told me, “If you pull my hand and say, ‘Come!’ and put the thread in my ears, will it hurt you? My ears will hurt. I won’t let you do that.” O Damodara, you are the best among men. See these berries I brought for you. You killed the vicious Putanā by drinking milk from her breasts and destroyed Sakaṭāsuran when he came in the form of a cart. Come here.
The lovely Yashoda, wishing to put a thread in Kaṇṇan’s ears, brought emerald earrings and called her child. The chief of Puduvai, praised by all the world, composed twelve pāsurams with Yashoda’s words. If devotees recite these twelve divine anthādi pāsurams they will be devotees of Achudan, the lord.

Yashoda calls Kaṇṇan to come and take a bath

I won’t allow you to go to rest in the bed with your dirty body that smells with the butter you stole and the mud you’ve been playing in. I’ve been waiting for a long time with oil and lemon juice to give you a bath. O dear lord, you are hard for anyone to reach. O Naraṇa, come to bathe.
Look, you, our beloved, want to catch small ants and put them in the ears of calves, but if you scare them and they run away how can you get butter from cow’s milk and eat it as you do now? O lord, You made the mara trees fall. Today is Thiruvoṇam, your birthday. Don’t run away. Come to bathe.
All the cowherd women called me and told me not to feed you milk because you drank the poisonous milk from the breasts of the devil Putanā, but my mind won’t let me not feed you, so I will. I’ve boiled water with gooseberry and filled a large pot with it. You have the color of a sapphire and are praised by all— come to bathe in the water mixed with turmeric.
Kamsan sent Sakaṭāsuran to kill you and when he came in the form of a cart you kicked and killed him. You drank the milk from the breast of the evil Putanā and killed her . You are a good child. I brought kohl for your eyes, turmeric, a senkazhuneer flower garland and fragrant sandal paste for your bath. O beautiful child, come to bathe.
I have excellent appams and other snacks made of brown sugar and milk for you. O dear child, come here if you want to eat them. If you don’t bathe, the young girls with breasts like ceppus will talk about you behind your back and laugh. You should have a good bath. O beloved lord, come here.
You roll the pots and spill the ghee from them. You pinch sleeping babies and wake them up and you open your eyes wide and scare them by making faces. O beloved lord , I will give you fruits to eat. O beautiful one with the lovely color of the sounding ocean that has roaring waves, come to bathe in the fragrant turmeric water.
From the time you were born, I have not seen the good milk that I have gotten, the churned yogurt and the butter that I put on the uri. O beloved child, I’ll be careful not to speak of these things in front of others because they may gossip," I’m your stepmother and am treating you badly." Come and bathe in the fragrant turmeric water.
You tied palm leaves to the tails of calves, and you shook fruits from the trees and threw them at the Asuran and killed him. You caught the tail of the snake Kalingan and danced on his heads. O best among men! I am not as strong as you are. Today is your auspicious birthday. You should take a good bath, O Nāraṇa. Don’t run away, come here.
I may be happy to see your golden body smeared with dirt because you went into the shed where the cows are tied, played with them and made yourself dirty, but others will blame me when they see you. You are shameless! If Nappinnai sees you, she will laugh. O my diamond, my jewel, come and bathe in the fragrant turmeric water.
Vishṇuchithan the chief of old Puduvai, praised by all the worlds, composed pāsurams describing how Yashoda called Kaṇṇan to come bathe in fragrant turmeric water. If devotees learn these excellent Tamil pāsurams they will not experience the results of any bad karma.

Calling a Crow - Yashoda calls a crow to come to help her to comb Kaṇṇan’s hair.

He is the beloved of Nappinnai. and he rests on the ocean in Thirupperur, the ancient, unique seed of all the gods. O crow, come and help me comb the hair of the king, the protector of me and my whole clan. O crow, come and help me comb Mādhavan’s hair.
O crow, he has a pure body colored like a blue sapphire. Come and help me comb and groom his hair. He drank milk from the breasts of the evil Putanā, he destroyed the magical Sakaṭāsuran when he came as a cart and he killed the two Asurans disguised as marudam trees. His body is blue like the kaya flower. O crow, come and help me comb his hair.
O crow, come and help me comb the hair of the god of gods, the chief of the cowherds. He swallowed the butter that I had kept in a large pot on the uri and ran away quickly and pretended to rest. O crow, he has the color of the dark cloud. Come and help me comb the hair of Kaṇṇan. Come and help me comb his hair.
He split open the beak of the thief Baṇāsuran when the Asuran came in the form of a heron, hid and flew along the valley. O crow, come and help me comb the hair of the enemy of Bāṇasuran who drank milk from the breasts of the devil Putanā. O crow, come and help me comb the hair of the lord.
O crow, as he grazed the cattle he threw Vathsāsuran when he came as a calf onto the vilam tree, shaking down its fruits and killed him. Don’t fly around everywhere and wander, crowing sweetly and praising the name of the highest. O crow, come every day and help me comb his hair. O crow, come and help me comb the hair of the lord with a discus in his hand.
O crow, come and help me comb and groom his hair. In the blink of an eye, he destroyed with his discus the Asurans when they afflicted the innocent people of the eastern land. O crow, come and help me comb his hair and make it beautiful. O crow, come and help me comb Govindan’s hair.
O crow, don’t fly around wishing to eat the food people give in the ceremony for their ancestors and the watery rice people give for the peys. O crow, come and help me comb the hair, dark as a bee, of the beautiful child, the god of the gods in the sky. O crow, come and help me comb the hair of Māyavan.
O crow, he created the four-headed Nānmuhan on a beautiful lotus on his navel. Come and help me comb his hair. Come help me untangle his thick hair with oil and make it beautiful with a white comb made of ivory. O crow, come and help me comb Damodaran’s hair.
O crow, he measured the whole world and puzzled the queens of king Mahābali when they saw it. Come, stand behind me and help me comb his hair. I am putting him on a soft bed to comb his golden hair. O crow, come and help me comb the hair of the my child with a thousand names.
Paṭṭan, the chief of Villiputhur surrounded by walls that touch the sky, composed these pāsurams that describe how the cowherdess Yashoda called the crow and said, “Come, O crow, help me comb the dark cloud-colored hair of my child that swarms with bees. We don’t want anyone to see his hair uncombed and blame me.” If devotees praise him and sing these pāsurams they will not have any bad karma.

Yashoda asks a crow to bring a grazing stick for Kaṇṇan,

O crow, on his round neck he wears a chain with a turtle pendent and his head is adorned with peacock feathers. Bring a grazing stick for him. He cuts sticks from the fences, makes arrows and plays with the boys with them. Bring a grazing stick for him as he goes behind the cattle, bring a grazing stick for the one colored like the blue ocean.
O crow, bring a suitable, well-formed round grazing stick for my son with a conch in his strong hands as he wanders and plays in the Kongu country, Kuḍandai, Koṭṭiyur and Thirupperur. Bring a grazing stick painted red.
O crow, he killed Kamsan when he came angrily to fight with him and he split open the mouth of the Asuran when he came as a heron to fight with him. Bring a suitable grazing stick for my son running and grazing small calves as his curly hair blows around. Bring a grazing stick for the god of gods.
O crow, our lord went as a messenger to Duryodhana and was victorious in the Bharatha war over the Paṇḍava’s enemy the king of the Kauravas when he promised that he would never be friends with the Paṇḍavas or give them any land. Bring a grazing stick for him to graze the calves, bring a grazing stick for the child, the lord colored like the blue ocean.
O crow, Kaṇṇan went as a messenger to Duryodhana and asked him to give the Paṇḍavas’ land back to them, but Duryodhana refused to give them even one town. Kaṇṇan angrily started the Bharatha war, drove Arjuna’s chariot in the battle and got victory for the Paṇḍavas. O crow, bring a grazing stick for the god of gods the conquerer of the Kauravas.
O crow, he rests on the banyan leaf as a baby at the end of the world. He granted his grace to Arjuna in the Bharatha war and he rests on Adishesha on the blue ocean for endless time. O crow, bring a grazing stick for the beautiful lord of Kuḍandai.
O crow, when he, as Rāma, stayed on golden Chithrakuḍam mountain, he put out one eye of Jayanthan when he came in the form of a crow and wounded Sitā. Bring a grazing stick quickly for my thick-haired son before he gets angry and destroys the other eye of the crows. Bring a grazing stick to this dear child, the shining sapphire-colored lord.
O crow, bring a grazing stick for him. Bending his matchless bow he killed the ten-headed Ravaṇan, the king of Lanka, adorned with shining diamond crowns, for the sake of Sitā with a waist as thin as lightning. Bring a grazing stick for him, adorned with a shining crown. Bring the grazing stick for the lord who made a bridge over the ocean to go to Lanka.
O crow, he cut off the heads and arms of Ravaṇan, the king of Lanka in the south, and gave the country to Vibhishaṇa with shining ornaments, saying, “You will rule this country as long as my name abides in the world.” Bring a grazing stick for the beautiful one , who shines like lightning and stays in the Thiruvenkaṭam hills. Bring a grazing stick for him

181.The Paṭṭan of Villiputhur composed pāsurams using the words of Yashoda as she asked the crow to bring a grazing stick to her beloved child. If devotees recite these ten Tamil pāsurams they will get good children and live happily in the world.

Yashoda wants to adron Kanṇṇan’s hair with flower.

You go to graze the cattle. Don’t you know that you are the finest remedy for all problems? You wander around the forest and your divine dark body becomes dull. You steal milk from the pots of others and people who don’t like you see it and laugh at you. O dear child, you are sweeter than honey. Come, I will decorate your hair with shenbaga flowers.
If we see dark clouds, our eyes feel as if they had seen your beautiful body. You are the beloved of Lakshmi, the goddess of wealth, and you rest on the Kaveri river in Srirangam. You were born to create all the seven worlds. Come to me and I will decorate your hair with jasmine flowers that spread their fragrance everywhere.
You stay in the tall Thiruvenkaṭam hills. You, young one, climb up to the patios of the palaces, enter the homes where the girls stay and tear their bras and silk blouses. Is that all? You grab the border of their saris and tear them, giving them trouble every day. Come to me and I will decorate your hair with padiri flowers and green thulasi leaves.
Don’t stand on the street and bother the young cowherd girls. O dear child, you have the color of the dark cloud. You are like a small calf with beautiful eyebrows, glistening dark hair and a shining forehead. The fragrance of your thulasi garland spreads everywhere. Come happily and I will I decorate your hair with this thulasi garland.
You split open the beak of Bāṇasuran when he came in the form of a heron, broke the tusk of the elephant, Kuvalayabeeḍam, cut off the nose of the cunning Surpanakha, and cut down the heads of the king Ravaṇan, yet I, your devotee, wasn’t afraid of you when I hit you because you took gobs of butter and swallowed them. Come and I will decorate your hair with a garland of sengazhuneer flowers that bloomed in clear water.
O, best among men! What do you gain fighting with bulls to marry Nappinnai? You knew the evil deeds of Kamsan and killed him with your ploys, and you fought with the wrestlers and defeated them. You harassed the cowherd girls on the streets. You are precious as gold! Come and I will decorate your hair with punnai flowers.
You are our king! You throw pots into the sky and dance the kuḍakkuthu with them. O my son, you bewitch beautiful girls, with faces as lovely as the moon. You split open the chest of Hiraṇyan into two pieces with your claws. O beloved lord of Kuḍandai, come and I will decorate your hair with kurukkathi flowers.
You made friends with the Asura Thirumālihan and cut off his head with your discus. O lord, you know the future of all and you rest on the Kāviri river in beautiful Srirangam. Don’t cheat me. Come and I will decorate your hair with iruvaṭchi flowers.
Although in heaven you stay in the assembly of gods, you live in the hearts of your devotees on the earth. You, the beloved of Lakshmi, swallowed all the seven worlds and rest on the banyan leaf. Come and I will decorate your hair with iruvaṭchi flowers blooming with big buds, and I will see you and be happy.
The Paṭṭarpiran, the chief of Villipputhur composed pāsurams with music telling how the cowherdess Yashoda happily called her son, the king of the earth, to come so that she could decorate his hair with eight kinds of flowers that she brought that day.

Yashoda wants to put a “kāppu” on Kaṇṇan to protect him from evil eyes.

Indra, Nānmuhan, Shiva and all other gods brought beautiful divine flowers, stood away from you and looked at you happily . You abide in Veḷḷaṛai where the moon shines above the palaces and the dancers sing your praise while they dance. Come, beautiful child, it is evening and I will put a kāppu on you to save you from evil eyes. .
The calves you grazed haven’t come home and their mothers cry out and call them. I am tired of calling you, heartless one! Don’t stay on the streets, it is getting dark. You are the god of Thiruveḷḷaṛai surrounded by walls. Listen! I’m saying this for your own good. Come and I will put kāppu on you to save you from evil eyes.
When you knocked over the play houses and messed up the play food of the girls with soft breasts that are formed like ceppus, I scolded you and now you have run away and haven’t come back to eat. You, the ruler of the world, stay in Thiruveḷḷaṛai where rishis live and the gods praise you three times a day. I won’t do anything to hurt you. O beloved child, come and I will put kāppu on you to save you from evil eyes.

195.You bother everyone you see. Countless children come again and again and they complain that you threw sand into their eyes and kicked them. O Kaṇṇan, you, the generous one, are the ocean-colored lord of Thiruveḷḷaṛai. Come and I will put kāppu on you to save you from evil eyes.

Even if thousands of children from this village do naughty things, people will say you did them. O beloved one, come. You stay in Thiruveḷḷaṛai where good people live and you are the light of wisdom. I will praise your beautiful body. Come and I will put kāppu on you to save you from evil eyes.
I heard that Kamsan is angry at you and is sending Putanā, the dark red-haired devil, to cheat and kill you. You stay in the beautiful Thiruveḷḷaṛai that is surrounded by walls and filled with diamond-studded palaces over which the clouds scud. I am afraid you will be hurt even if you stay there. O beautiful child, come and I will put kāppu on you so that evil eyes will not harm you.
O beloved, my prince, you stay in flourishing Thiruveḷḷaṛai. I know that you kicked and killed the evil Sakaṭāsuran when he came disguised as a cart. You destroyed the two Asurans when they came in the form of marudu trees. I know you killed the devil Putanā, drinking milk from her breasts, but I don’t know what else you might have done after that. It is time for you to go to bed, O highest lord, come and I will put kāppu on you so that evil eyes will not harm you.
You are the god of Thiruveḷḷaṛai surrounded with precious golden walls. You gave me the highest joy. Even the gods do not know who you are. You, a king, killed the elephant Kuvalayabeeḍam and you were Yama for cruel Kamsan, You have been raised as a precious child. See, there is a beggar, a Kambakkabāli wearing a garland of skulls. Run, come quickly and I will put kāppu on you so that evil eyes will not harm you.
You stay in prosperous Thiruveḷḷaṛai and the Vediyars, skilled in the Vedas, recite the Rg Veda, come holding conches with water and stand near you. O dear child, don’t be proud! You stand in the middle of the street and refuse to listen to my words. I, your mother, only want to put divine kāppu on you. It is evening. I will light the lamp so I can see you when you return. Come and I will put kāppu on you so that evil eyes will not harm you.
Yashoda, the best among women, called her son to put kāppu on him, the lord of auspicious Thiruveḷḷaṛai with Lakshmi the goddess of wealth. Vishṇuchithan who knows the benefit of learning the Vedas made Yashoda’s words into pāsurams. If devotees recite even one part of these pāsurams their bad karma will disappear.

The complaining cowherd girls!

The cowherd girls complain saying, “When he gulps down the butter in our house and throws the pots on the stones we hear the noise of them breaking. We can’t stop his naughty deeds. You should take care of your son. The things he does hurt us as if someone were pouring sour juice into wounds. You should tell your son not to act like that. You gave birth to a son whose actions are very naughty. You are the mother of the chief of the whole world, O lovely Yashoda. Call your son!”
Yashoda talks to Kaṇṇan and her neighbors. “You are my dear child! As the dwarf Vamanan, you went to the king Mahābali. Come, come, come here! You are the best of the Kahusta dynasty, with dark hair, a beautiful face and a lovely mouth. Come here. And you, lovely neighbors, you know he is my beloved child, know how precious he is to me. Listen, son with a body dark as kohl, it hurts me when I hear the neighbors complain about you. I can’t bear it. Don’t you feel sorry for me? Come to me.”
The cowherd women complain to Yashoda and say, “Your wonderful son doesn’t hesitate to do naughty things. He thinks it is just fine to do them. He swallowed all the melted ghee in our pots and broke them and now he stands here as if he has done nothing wrong. Is it right to do bad things like this to your neighbors? Yashoda, call him to come to you. He doesn’t allow us to live! No doubt, he is indeed Madhusudanan.”
Yashoda asks Kaṇṇan to come to her and says, “O you with the dark color of a cloud, come, god of Srirangam, come, divine Naraṇan of Thirupperur surrounded by the ocean with clear waves, come.” He came running into the house and said, “I’ve only come to eat.” Yashoda could not get angry at him. She approached him and embraced him. This is the loving trick that Yashoda’s dear child has learned.
A cowherdess complains, “I milked the cow and put the milk on the stove, but I found out I didn’t have any fire to light it. I asked my daughter to stay there and went to borrow some fire from a neighbor. As I stood there and chatted with the neighbor for a while, the dear lord of Sāḷakkirāmam turned over the pot, drank the milk and ran away. O beautiful Yashoda with a voice as sweet as the juice from a sugarcane press, call your son.”
Yashoda calls Kaṇṇan to come to her. “ O my son, you should come to me. You should come to me now. Don’t say you won’t come. Come to me. The neighbors keep complaining about you and it’s hard for me to hear so many complaints. You are a happy little one! You carried Govardhana mountain and danced the Kuḍakkuthu dance. You are the meaning of the Vedas and my god of Venkaṭa hills. Come here.”
A cowherd girl complains, “I made twelve types of sweets with good rice, small lentils, sugar, fragrant ghee and milk for the festival of Thiruvoṇam. I know what he does— he already ate my food once before. He said he wanted more and gobbled everything up and stood as if he hadn’t done anything wrong. O lovely Yashoda, call your son and ask him to come to you. I only have a little bit of food left over.”
Yashoda calls Kaṇṇan to come to her. “O Kesava, come here. Don’t say no. Come to me. Don’t go to unfriendly people’s houses and play there.Come to me. Don’t stay where common people say bad things about you and servants live. Obeying your mother’s words is your duty. Damodara, come here.”
A cowherd girl complains, “ I kept sweet laḍḍus, seeḍais and sesame sweet balls in a pot and went outside. I thought no one would come into my house and take anything, but your son entered my house and ate all the sweets without leaving any at all. He even looked into the pot hanging on the uri and checked to see if there was any butter hidden there. O Yashoda, beautiful one, call your son to come to you. I’ve only told you some of the naughty things he did.”
A cowherd girl complains, “If anyone complains about your son, you get upset. O lovely Yashoda, he is tricky. He came to our house and called my girl, took her bracelets, went away through the backyard, sold them to the berry seller and bought some sweet berries and ate them. When I asked him about the bracelets, he said, “I haven’t seen them” and laughed.
The chief Paṭṭar, Vishṇuchithan, composed songs describing the play of the god of Srirangam in the southern land surrounded with groves where bees happily swarm and the Kaveri flows with its abundant water. If people sing these songs and dance they will become devotees of Govindan and will be like lights that brighten up all the eight directions. I bow to them and worship their feet.

The complaints of the young cowherd girls

O Yashoda, your son threw mud at us when we were bathing and playing in the river. He stole our bracelets and clothes and ran faster than the wind and hid in his house. When we asked for our clothes and bangles he didn’t answer. This isn’t fair. If he doesn’t give us our bangles it isn’t fair.
O Yashoda, your son who has long hair, long ear rings, and a sacred thread hanging down to his belly button is worshipped and praised by people in all eight directions. We are beautiful women and our hair is decorated with flowers that swarm with bees. Your son stole our clothes and climbed to the top of a tree that touches the sky and sat there. This isn’t fair. We begged him to give our clothes back, but he wouldn’t. This isn’t fair.
O Yashoda, your son stirred up the water in the pond where large lotuses bloom, grasped the tail of the poisonous snake Kalingan and climbed on its heads, dancing and shaking its whole body. We think that was good, but he stole our clothes, stays in the top of the tree and refuses to give them back. This isn’t fair.
O Yashoda, your son killed the Asuran Thenuhan, threw his body at the tree, and made the fruits of the palmyra tree fall. When Indra made a heavy rain fall on the cattle, he carried Govardhana mountain in his big arms and protected the cows. We think that was good, but he stole our clothes, stays in the top of the tree, and refuses to give them back. This isn’t fair.
O Yashoda, when your son stole the milk and yogurt in the cowherd village and ate them, the cowherds saw him, caught him and tied him up. Now he can’t steal the butter made by the cowherd women with round bamboo-like arms because they tied him up and spanked him so he cried. This isn’t fair.
O Yashoda, even when he was a baby toddling with his tiny feet, that young child knew in his mind that the devil Putanā would come, cheat him and try to kill him. When she came, he drank poisonous milk from her breasts and killed her. We think that was good, but he stole our clothes, stays in the top of the tree and refuses to give them back. This isn’t fair.
O Yashoda, he went to the sacrifice of king Mahābali, asked for three feet of land, and measured this earth with one foot and the sky with the other foot. We think that was wonderful, but he stole our clothes, stays in the top of the tree and refuses to give them back. This isn’t fair.
O Yashoda, your son, the god of gods in the sky, came riding on his vehicle, the Garuḍazhvar and removed the suffering of Gajendra the elephant when he was caught by a crocodile in the large pond blooming with cool screw pine plants and ambal flowers, killing the crocodile with his discus. We think that was wonderful, but he stole our clothes, stays in the top of the tree, and refuses to give them back. This isn’t fair.
O Yashoda, your son with the color of a cloud in the sky grazes the cows in the forest and plays happily. He took the form of a boar, went beneath the earth brought the earth stolen by an Asuran and put it back. We think that was wonderful, but he stole our clothes, stays in the top of the tree, and refuses to give them back. This isn’t fair.
Paṭṭan, the chief of Puduvai, composed pāsurams describing the complaints of the beautiful cowherd women to Yashoda about the lotus-eyed Kaṇṇan. If devotees recite these pāsurams they will have no troubles in their lives.

Kaṇṇan, Yashoda and the cowherd women

He toddles and comes to me just like thousands of other children. I give him butter precious as gold and milk. He drinks the milk and embraces me. He, the king, drank milk from the breasts of the cheating devil Putanā with a waist as thin as lightning and killed her. Dear child, I know who you are and I’m afraid to give you food.
I gave a bath to your sky-blue body and fed you food sweet as nectar and went out. Before I came back you killed the Asuran when he came as a fully-laden cart and returned to stay quietly at home. You changed the mind of a young girl with a waist thin as lightning and made her love you. Dear child, I know who you are and I’m afraid to give you food.
You swallowed all the butter and the lentils in the pots and turned over the yogurt pot and ate all the yogurt. Now, after killing the Asurans disguised as marudam trees, you come. O best among men! You can do all these miraculous things. People say you are my son, but dear child, I know who you are and I’m afraid to give you food.
You fascinate the beautiful young cowherd girls whose dark eyes are decorated with kohl. You follow them holding onto their soft clothes and steal their clothes and stand away. You do many mischievous things. You tell lies and people are gossiping about you. I heard a lot about you near the pond. Dear child, I know who you are and I’m afraid to give you food.
You swallow the butter and the yogurt that the cowherd women churn three times a day and keep. You make the pots that the cowherds carry on their shoulders fall and drink the yogurt. You sob and sob like the children who want to drink milk from their mothers. Dear child, I know who you are and I’m afraid to give you food.
When an Asuran came as a calf and refused to eat the good paddy that all the other cows were eating happily on the flourishing fields humming with bees, you knew it was not a calf. You threw him up, made the vilam fruits fall and killed him. O naughty one, you wander about and plot to make a young girl whose soft curly hair is filled with bees fall in love with you. Dear child, I know who you are and I’m afraid to give you food.
You are light! You go into the grove and play soft music on your flute, enthralling everyone. The cowherd girls with soft curly hair come and surround you to listen to you playing music and worship you. O dear child, my only fault is that I have raised you. You are naughty and the cowherd women are always complaining about you, but I know who you are and I’m afraid to give you food.
Even if you keep quiet without doing anything naughty, people don’t believe it. You fascinate the beloved daughters of others, embrace and enjoy them, and do things one can’t speak of. No matter what I say about you, the cowherd families don’t listen. They blame me because of you until I can no longer listen to all their complaints. You, son of Nandan, are like a bull. I know who you are and I’m afraid to give you food.
Cowherd mothers go to sell buttermilk, cowherd fathers go behind the cows to graze them, and you, fearless, run behind the lovely village girls. You wander around and everyone who sees you says how naughty you are. You do things to please even those who don’t like you. You are my dear child. I know who you are and I’m afraid to give you food.
You went into a blooming garden with a young girl with hair is adorned with a bunch of flowers, embraced her breasts adorned with pearl chains, and stayed there with her all night. You only returned after the night was gone and came at dawn. If people want to gossip about you I let them say what they want. I won’t shout at you. Dear child, I know who you are and I’m afraid to give you food.
Yashoda with fragrant flowers in her hair called the dark one colored like a cloud and told him that she will give him food sweet as nectar, not just any food. Paṭṭarpiran, the chief of Puduvai, the famous poet praised by the whole earth, composed pāsurams with Yashoda’s words. If people recite these pāsurams they will become the devotees of Rishikesa.
Yashoda says, “I bathed the dear kohl-colored child of the cowherd clan in turmeric water and sent him out to go behind the calves because I didn’t want him wandering from house to house. But how could I send my child who fought Kamsan without worrying that his ankleted feet would hurt as he went behind the calves? What a terrible thing I have done!”
Yashoda says, “I don’t want my son to go wandering around kicking and destroying the play houses of lovely doll-like girls with bodies adorned with fragrant turmeric powder. I don’t want him going around doing naughty things. Why have I sent him behind the calves to the forest where hunters go with their axes? Why did I send my child behind the calves? What a terrible thing I have done!”
Yashoda says, “I don’t want my son wandering and playing every day with young girls decorated with beautiful maṇimegalai ornaments. I don’t want him making his shining golden body dirty with mud. That’s why I’ve sent my sapphire-colored son to go behind calves on the forest paths where the bells of the cattle ring out. What a terrible thing I have done!”
Yashoda says, “I don’t want him wandering around in this cowherd village doing naughty things so the beautiful dark-haired women there come and gossip about him. He, the god beyond all thought is sweet to the eyes of all. I have sent him to the forest behind the calves to graze them. What a terrible thing I have done!”
Yashoda says, “I don’t want him wandering here and there in the cowherd village doing naughty things. I don’t want him approaching the cowherd girls and kissing them with his lips that are like kovvai fruits. I’ve sent that divine one, the king of gods, behind the calves to the forest where hunters carry afflicting bows. What a terrible thing I have done!”
Yashoda says, “I don’t want him stealing butter, filling his mouth and swallowing it and doing many other naughty things as he wanders around in this cowherd village. I’ve sent him behind the calves to the forest paths where many elephants wander and people trip and stumble. What a terrible thing I have done!”

240.Yashoda says, “I don’t want him jumping around, playing and wandering about with his friends as women with vine-like waists gossip about him. I’ve sent the lord of Garuḍa behind the calves to the hot forest paths where there are dry kaḷḷi plants. What a terrible thing I have done!”

Yashoda says, “I carried him on my hip for twelve months and fed him nectar-like milk from my young breasts. Now I have sent my young lion-like son, behind the calves to the dry forest where he will hurt his golden feet. What a terrible thing I have done!”
Yashoda says, “I have sent my son Damodaran behind the calves without giving him an umbrella and sandals to go in the terrible forest where broken, hard, rough stones will hurt his feet. Cruelly, I have sent my son to the forest. What a terrible thing I have done!”
Paṭṭan, the chief of Puduvai filled with palaces that shine like gold composed a garland of sweet Tamil pāsurams that describe how Yashoda was worried when she sent her sweet sapphire-colored son to graze the calves. If devotees recite these pāsurams they will have no difficulties in their lives.
Yashoda says, “The young Kaṇṇan adorned with a kudambai flower for an earring on his one ear and a red thondri blossom on the other, with a lovely kachu around his waist, a checked dress on his body and a chest adorned with a precious pearl chain goes behind the cattle. Come and see the beautiful form of the ocean-colored lord. O lovely women, I am the only one with a precious son like him on this earth. There is no one like me.”
Yashoda says, “You are the eternal, famous Madhusudanan, and you stay in Srirangam surrounded with good strong walls where the Kaveri river flows and groves bloom. O Kesava, I have done wrong. I fed you a little food and heedlessly sent you on your tiny feet to graze the young calves because I thought it would be good for you. No woman has a harder heart than I. O small one, give me a kiss.”
Yashoda says, “O Damodara, you are the beloved of Nappinnai, lovely as a peacock. You go through the forest, graze the calves, run behind them and return, wearing koḍal flowers that bloom in the rainy season. Now see, your body is covered with dirt. I have made water ready for your bath. Take a bath and come to eat. Your father hasn’t eaten yet. He will eat with you.”
Yashoda says, “You stay in the beautiful Thiruvenkaṭam hills filled with fragrant groves! You are a strong bull that fights in terrible battles. O dear child, I brought you an umbrella, sandals and a flute but you went without taking them and your small red lotus feet that went behind the calves have blistered. Your eyes are red and you are tired, dear child!”
Yashoda says, “:You are a bull in battle! When you blow the Panchajanyam conch on the battlefield, your enemies shiver. You, are the little lion of the cowherd clan, the beloved of Sita. You are Thirumāl, small and short with lovely eyes. You left your clothes and a small sword on your bed and went to graze the cows with other cowherds and it seems now you have returned with them.”
Yashoda says, “O beautiful lord with a shining discus in your hand, I felt I might die when you entered the pond and fought with the snake that spat poison. What can I do? You made my stomach hurt. I am not worried. What you did made Kamsan happy. O lord, you have the dark color of a kāyām flower.”
Yashoda says, “You who, colored dark like the sea, rest on the milky ocean took the forms of a boar, a turtle and a fish. When the cunning Asuran came as a calf to the field where cows were grazing, you took him in your small hands and threw him at the vilam fruit trees. Those Asurans always do only evil things to my son.”
Yashoda says, “I just heard something that is new to me. It seems you ate the rice, curries and yogurt that the cowherds made and kept for Indra mixing them together. I’m not good enough to feed you. I’ll never be able to do it. O Vasudeva, your fame is faultless. From now on, I will be frightened of you.”
Yashoda says, “You carry a strong white conch in your hand. It is the auspicious Thiruvoṇam day, your birthday. I called some women whose words are like music, planted bean seeds and blessed you, praying that you may live for many years. I made curry and rice to celebrate your birthday. O dear child, don’t go tomorrow to graze the calves. Dress and decorate yourself and stay here.”
Vishṇuchithan, the chief of Puduvai where faultless people live composed ten pāsurams that describe how the cowherdess Yashoda saw her son coming after grazing the calves. If devotees learn these pāsurams and sing they will approach the ankleted feet of the ocean-dark lord.
Decorated with fresh leaves and garlands, cowherds come while the sounds of flutes and songs are heard everywhere while drums are beaten. Govindan, his hair adorned with peacock feathers, comes with them and young women, coming to their doorsteps, see the cowherds and Kaṇṇan and say, “Is a cloud coming in the crowd?” They forget what they should do and stand there, forgetting even to eat.
Kaṇṇan, wearing a soft garment that looks like the petals of flowers blooming on a vine, carrying a small sword, and adorned with a garland made of fragrant mullai and vengai blossoms mixed with fresh kachandi leaves comes in the middle of a group of cowherds in the evening. O girls, if you go before him, you will lose your beautiful bangles.
His young friends wearing silk garments run behind him carrying small swords, bows, chendus and sticks. One of them blows a conch so the cows will hear and return. Kaṇṇan, tired, comes with them. My daughter sees his beautiful body adorned with turmeric powder and approaches him. The people of the village see and gossip about her.
He, my beloved one, carried Govardhana mountain and protected the cows when there was a big storm. Now he plays music on his flute as a cowherd, grazes the calves and comes with his friends. O beautiful friend, I see him on the streets. I have not seen anyone like him before. O friend, come and see him. All my bangles are getting loose and my young breasts beneath their blouse are not in my control.
I saw the cowherds carrying umbrellas made of peacock feathers standing around Kaṇṇan wearing beautiful peacock feathers in his hair. They sang and danced in front of their doorsteps. I don’t want you to give me in marriage to anyone except Māyan, the lord of Thirumālirunjolai. You should realize that I belong only to the victorious one and give me in marriage to him. If you don’t, it will plunge into sorrow.
He will be wearing a shining sinduram and a perfect nāmam on his divine forehead. The lovely music of flutes and the sound of drums will play. With the cowherds carrying their grazing sticks he will come into the flourishing grove. He is a cowherd child, yet he is the eternal god and he will walk on the street as if he knows everything. Let’s stop him and tell him that he stole our ball and see the lovely smile on his coral mouth.
Kaṇṇan goes behind good cows in a flourishing grove with his divine body shining brightly, his fragrant hair decorated with peacock feathers. His beautiful lotus eyes shining, he comes among a group of cowherd children, plays the flute, sings songs and dances, as the cowherds come with him singing and dancing. My daughter is fascinated seeing the beauty of that cowherd child.
He is adorned with a poṭṭu made of red powder and a divine nāmam on his forehead. Wearing beautiful peacock feathers in his hair, the cowherd child comes like Indra, the king of the gods. I told my daughter, “If you go in front of him, you will lose your bangles.” My beautiful girl stands before him in the middle of the street, and see, her bangles and clothes are becoming loose.
On his left ear he wears a lovely thondri flower and his long hair is adorned with jasmine and forest mauval flowers. My daughter sees the beauty of the cowherd child as he comes playing his flute and she falls in love with him. She stands before him without moving and see, her lovely bangles become loose and she grows thin.
Vishṇuchittan, the chief of Puduvai surrounded with lovely groves where bees swarm, composed ten pāsurams about the love of the cowherd girls when they see Kaṇṇan, the god of the gods, coming on the street of the cowherd village surrounded by cows and children. If devotees sing these songs happily, they will reach divine Vaikuṇṭam.

Govardhana mountain

The victorious umbrella-like mountain that the dark ocean-colored lord who ate a pile of rice with lentils, yogurt and ghee carried to protect the cows is Govardhana where gypsy girls feed good milk to the round-eyed innocent fawns that were caught by their husbands and given to them.
The victorious umbrella-like mountain that Madhusudhanan carried to stop the rain when Indra, the king of gods was angry and made it rain for seven days, hurting the innocent cows, is Govardhana where a female elephant chased by a young lion, afraid her cub may be hurt and protecting it under her legs, opposes the lion and fights.
The victorious umbrella-like mountain that our father with a shining discus in his hand carried when the cows, the large-eyed cowherd women and the cowherds screamed and asked for help saying, “Help us, you are our refuge!" is Govardhana where men with strong mountain-like arms bend their bows when their lovely doll-like women ask them to catch deer, saying, “See, a group of deer are grazing on our millet.”
As Kannan picked up Govardhana mountain where the clouds gather after descending to the ocean, scooping up the water, rising to the sky in the east and pouring down rain, he was like a mahout giving a ball of rice to a cruel-eyed elephant.
The victorious umbrella-like mountain that our father, who once took the form of a boar, carried, digging it up and calling the gods, saying, “O gods in the sky! If anyone among you is strong enough, tell me, and come carry this with me!” is Govardhana where a happy forest elephant that has lost its tusks raises its trunk, worships and asks him to give the crescent moon for his tusk as the musth pours from his temples.
The victorious umbrella-like mountain that our wonderful Thirumāvalavan carried, putting all the five fingers of his lovely lotus hand at its base and lifting it with his large, beautiful arms is Govardhana where the water of the white waterfall flows everywhere as it carries lovely glistening beautiful pearls and makes the hill look like a treasure of pearl garlands.
The victorious umbrella-like mountain that our Damodaran carried using the five fingers of his wide hands just as the thousand-headed Adishesha carries the earth is Govardhana where the monkeys live and put their small children to sleep holding them in their hands and singing the fame of Hanuman who went to Lanka and destroyed its pride.
The victorious umbrella-like mountain that Narayaṇan carried to protect the cows when the strong rain fell like a warrior using his shield to stop the arrows coming at him like a heavy rain is Govardhana where pious rishis practice tapas living in huts roofed with leaves, while angry murderous tigers go and sleep with them.
The victorious large mountain that Damodaran carried who drank milk from the breasts of the terrible devil Putanā and killed her is Govardhana that has the same name as the god Govardhanan. There monkeys carrying their babies on their backs, climb on the branches of trees and teach them how to jump.
When the beautiful blue-colored one carried Govardhana mountain, the fingers of his lotus hands did not loose their beauty and his strong beautiful finger-nails did not hurt. He carried the mountain as if it were something he did every day. On victorious umbrella-like Govardhana mountain, a group of large clouds that rest on the top of the hills make the mountain look as if it has grey hair as they pour down rain everywhere.
The famous Paṭṭarpiran Vishṇuchithan where the Vediyars recite the divine Vedas composed these ten pāsurams on Govardhana mountain where jasmine flowers bloom on the branches of kuravam trees. He describes how the hill is carried as an umbrella by the god who rests on Adishesha and rides on an eagle, the enemy of snake. If devotees recite those pāsurams in their hearts and worship him, they will reach divine Vaikuṇṭam.

Kaṇṇan plays the flute

O beautiful girls of this wide world, hear a wonderful thing! When Thirumāl with a white valampuri conch in his hand plays the flute with his divine lips, the cowherd girls with young breasts hear the sound of the flute, are excited, shiver and run away from their houses where they are guarded, untying the ropes that they bind them and putting those ropes on their necks as if they are garlands. Shyly they come and surround him.
When Govindan takes his flute in his hands, bends his eyebrows, blows the air from his stomach and plays, young doe-eyed girls as beautiful as peacocks listen. Their hair decorated with flowers becomes undone, their dresses become loose and holding their falling dresses they stand looking at him out of corners of their eyes.
When the prince of the sky, the lord of Vaikuṇṭam, the little one of Vasudeva, the king of Madhura, Govindan, the princely son of Nandagopa the little child of the cowherds plays his flute, young Apsarases come down from the sky and approach him, their hearts melting and their flower-like eyes shedding tears. Their hair swarming with bees becomes loose, their foreheads sweat and they close their ears to everything else and hear only the music of his flute.
When the small dark-colored Kaṇṇan who fought, conquered and destroyed the evil Asuras Thenuhan, Pilamban and Kaliyan plays his flute wandering about in the forests, Menaga, Thilothama, Ramba, Urvasi and other heavenly Apsarases, fascinated as they hear his music, are speechless and come down from the sky, dancing and singing with joy.
Madhusudanan, feared by the kings of the three worlds, who came as a man-lion and killed Hiraṇyan When he plays the flute, Narada with his Tumburu veena, and players of the kinnaram, the midunam and other string instruments hear his music, forget their skills and say, “We won’t touch our musical instruments because we can’t compete with the lovely music of Madhusudanan.”
When our highest lord, a lion among the gods, who was born to Devaki as a child with large beautiful eyes and strong arms plays his flute, the Gandharvas wandering in the sky, fascinated by the nectar-like music, say, “He, the highest, is playing the flute,” and, feeling ashamed because they can’t play like him, they stand, join their hands and worship him.
Listen to the wonders that I have seen on this earth! When Kaṇṇan who has beautiful large eyes and strong arms plays his flute in the middle of a crowd of young cowherds, the music is heard in the world of the gods and all the sky dwellers forget to eat their sacrificial food and enter the cowherd village. Their ears are filled with the sweetness of the music and they follow happily wherever Govindan goes and do not leave him at all.
When Govindan plays the flute holding it in his small fingers, as his beautiful eyes close, his red cheeks puff out and his brow sweats with small drops of water, flocks of birds leave their nests, come and surround him. Herds of cattle leave the forest where they graze, come near Govindan, and lie down with their legs apart. They bend their heads, listening to the music of the flute and move their ears as if they are dancing.
His dark color is like mass of clouds, his face is beautiful like a red lotus, and his dark curly hair has the color of bees. When he plays his flute, a herd of deer, fascinated with his music, forgets to graze and grass that they have eaten hangs from their mouths and, not swaying from side to side, they stand motionless as if they were painted pictures.
When the matchless one, the chief of the cowherds adorned with dark-eyed peacock feathers and a silk garment tied tightly and beautifully on his handsome body, plays the flute, the trees stand without moving, flowers pour down honey-like drops as if to bow and worship him and straight branches bend to hear the music. They all turn towards wherever the beautiful Thirumāl is because that is their nature.
Vishṇuchithan the chief of Puduvai composed pāsurams about how music flowed like a flood of nectar from the holes of the bamboo flute in the beautiful hands of curly-haired Govindan with a tuft on his head. If those skilled in Tamil recite these pāsurams of Vishṇuchithan they will be among the devotees of the god.

The mother worries about her young daughter

She plays on the sand and makes herself dirty. She speaks like a baby. She doesn’t know how to wear her lovely dress made with fine thread. She has never gone out of our front yard with a small play pot in her hands, yet holding the hands of the one who rests on the snake Adisesha, she comes home.
Her teeth have not grown out yet, her hair is not yet thick, and she plays with sparse-haired still innocent children. But now she has made friends with naughty girls and says that they are good children like her. She has fallen in love with Māyan, the beautiful sapphire-colored lord.
Even when she tries to make a play house on the white sand in the front yard of her house, she cannot make it without drawing pictures of a conch, a wheel, a club, a sword and a bow. Her breasts have not grown out yet. My heart worries every day because she is in love with Govindan.
Who can I tell about the tricks that this young Kaṇṇan does? He gets together with my young, innocent daughter’s friends and cheats her and makes fun of her. She doesn’t know the old saying that the spoon that scoops the porridge doesn’t know how much salt is in the porridge. Just like that she does not know whether the lord with a discus in his hand loves her as much as she loves him.
She wears fragrant thulasi garlands and goes to all the cities and lands where Narayaṇan stays and searches for him. Many can’t understand her and want to hurt her. Confused, they say, “Put her in a guarded place with Kesavan.” Why is the world like this?
I decorated her with a forehead ornament, golden ear rings, a paḍagam ornament and anklets and raised her with love, but she doesn’t want to stay with me now. She left me and just keeps saying, “Puvai puvanna!” O girls with long thick hair, see, she is falling in love with him.
I am an innocent mother and she is my innocent daughter. She stands in front of the girls who obey their mothers but she is like a spoon that gets loose from its stem and spills food everywhere without knowing what it is doing. Shameless, she mutters like a parrot and says, “Kesava, you are faultless!” O girls with long fragrant hair, she is fascinated with him and has fallen in love.
She wears pretty clothes and looks at herself in the mirror. She makes the bangles on her arms jingle. She wears a new sari and sighs. She decorates her red mouth as sweet as a kovvai fruit. She does the same thing again and again. She raves about the power of him with a thousand names. She falls in love with the sapphire-colored lord who has no hatred for anyone.
What is the use if I save abundant wealth and wish to spend it to do auspicious ceremonies for her? It only hurts me. She is like a tender shoot that grows on a field and he is like the owner of that land. He can do whatever he wants with her. Take her to the place of the beautiful one colored like a dark cloud and leave her there.
We did all the auspicious ceremonies that we were supposed to do for her and kept her in our home thinking that she would stay there, but she wants to do something else and worries how she can leave home. Before others know that she is in love with him and is leaving home because her parents have not arranged marriage for her, we must take her to him who went to Mahābali as a dwarf and measured the world.
Vishṇuchithan, the chief of Puduvai surrounded with beautiful flower gardens composed a garland of ten pāsurams about how a mother describes her daughter’s love for Narayaṇan who swallowed the whole earth and rests on a banyan leaf. If devotees recite these pāsurams they will have no trouble in their lives.

A Mother’s worry

I haven’t seen my daughter anywhere. My house is empty. It is like a pond that has lost its beauty and its fresh lotuses have shed their petals when the dew has fallen on them and the alli blossoms have shed their pollen. Did she go towards Madurai city following him who destroyed the Asurans when they came disguised as wrestlers?
Nārāyaṇan made my virgin daughter play with him and took her with him like the ignorant cowherds who steal calves. Won’t this terrible thing that Narayaṇan did be a disgrace for our family?
We made arrangements for my daughter’s wedding, decorated her beautifully and kept her at home. We announced to our relatives that we are giving her in marriage to Dāmodaran. Will the people beat the sounding drums, worship the queen of Indra the king of gods and decorate this village with beautiful garlands?
I have only one daughter and I raised her like Lakshmi, the beautiful goddess. The world praises me as a good mother. Lovely-eyed Thirumāl has taken her with him. Will Yashoda, a woman of a respectable family and the mother of a wonderful son, feel happy seeing her daughter-in-law and perform the post-marriage ceremonies for her well? Will I see that?
Will Nandagopan, the father-in-law of my daughter, embrace her and say, “I am proud to have you as my daughter-in-law?” Seeing her lovely fish eyes, red mouth, round breasts, waist and beautiful arms, will he say, “How can the mother of one like you be able live apart from you?”
Will the family of her in-laws join together, perform all the requisite ceremonies and make her happy? Will her beloved who killed the Asuran that came as a cart be able to live happily with my daughter whom he married as the whole city and the country looked on?
Will the chief of the gods with a discus in the sky live with my daughter without blaming her for anything? Will he live with her in the family and give her the name of belonging to a cowherd family so that all the other housewives will know and protect her?
O beautiful girl! The son of Nandagopan doesn’t do any of the things that people born in good families do. He doesn’t follow our customs. O my god, my daughter’s waist is becoming thin and she is longing for a better life. Will her hands become rough always churning buttermilk and holding the churning rope?
Without sleeping well, can my daughter wake up before dawn and churn the white yogurt? Will he, with shining lotus eyes who measured the world, make her do hard work or will he keep her happy?
The chief of flourishing Puduvai composed ten pāsurams describing how a good mother went to a cowherd village searching for her daughter when she went away with Māyavan and how she worried whether her daughter could live as a daughter-in-law in the cowherd village. If devotees recite the pāsurams of Vishṇuchithan they will become devotees of the sapphire-colored lord.
O undi, fly and sing the strength of my lord. . He pulled a beautiful Parijatha flower tree from Indra’s world with the help of strong Garuḍa when Indrani did not give the flowers to Sathyabama. Praise and sing the strength of my beloved and fly, praise and sing the strength of my dear one and fly.
O undi, fly and sing the might of the bow of him who took away the power of Balarāman’s tapas when he came in front of him and said, “See the power of my bow and leave!” He bent his bow and took the life of Thāḍagai. Sing and praise the strength of the son of Dasharatha, fly and sing the power of his bow.
O undi, when he brought Rukmaṇi on his chariot and Rukman, her proud brother, came there angrily and opposed him, Kaṇṇan destroyed his heroism and cut off his head. O undi, fly and sing his praise, praise the lion-like son of Devaki and fly.
O undi, fly singing the strength of him who went to the terrible forest without getting angry when his step-mother who was like Yama told him, “Go to the forest!” and as the mother who gave birth to him followed him crying, “My dear son!” Sing the praise of Rāma the beloved of Sita.
O undi, fly and sing the praise of the dark kohl-colored god who went to Duryodhana as a messenger for the Pāṇḍavas and helped them fight the Bharatha war. He jumped into the pond and danced on the heads of the snake Kālingan and gave it his grace. Sing the praise of the lion-like son of Yashoda and fly.
O undi, fly and sing the praise of Rāma who gave his padukas when his faultless brother Bharatha followed him and asked him to come back to rule all the three worlds and be the king and show him his grace. Sing the praise of the king of Ayodhya and fly.
O undi, fly and sing the praise of the strength of the heroic arms of the clever one who jumped into the pond, stirred it up, danced on the five wide heads of Kālingan and gave him his grace. Praise the pure sapphire-colored lord and fly.
O undi, fly and sing the praise of Rāma who gave the kingdom to his younger brother and went to the forest obeying the order of his step-mother Kaikeyi, and in the forest he cut off the ears and nose of thin-waisted Surpanakha as she screamed. Sing and praise the king of Ayodhya and fly.
O undi, fly and sing the praise of him who kicked and destroyed the Asuran when he came in the form of a deceiving cart and killed the Asuran brothers when they came and stood as marudam trees. The clever lord goes with the cowherds, protecting the cattle and playing the flute wonderfully. O undi, fly and sing the praise of the bull-like son of the cowherds, fly and sing the praise of him who grazed the cows.
O undi, fly and sing the praise him who crossed the ocean, entered Lanka, killed his enemy Rāvaṇan, the ten-headed king, and gave his kingdom to Vibhisana, Rāvaṇan’s good brother. O undi, fly and sing the praise of the nectar-like sweet god, fly and sing the praise of the king of Ayodhya.

317.Vishṇuchithan, the chief of southern Puduvai where ornamented Tamil flourishes composed ten pāsurams describing how the women decorated with shining ornaments asked the undi to praise and sing the heroic deeds of Kahustan, the son of Nandan. If devotees learn and sing these ten pāsurams of Vishṇuchittan they will have no trouble in life.

Hanuman sees Sita.

Hanuman sees Sita in Asokavanam in Rāvaṇan’s Lanka and says, “O Beautiful goddess with dark thick hair! I am your slave. This is my request. Rāma broke the bow of king Janakan whose shining crown was studded with diamonds and married you. When Balarāman, known for his excellent tapas, stopped him on the way to Ayodhya after your marriage, Rāma broke his bow and destroyed his powerful tapas. This tells you I am a messenger from Rāma.
“O you with hair adorned with lovely alli blossoms, I bow to your feet. This is my request. Show me your grace and listen, you who are beautiful as a doe and have two eyes like blooming flowers. One day when you were with your beloved husband, he brought you a jasmine garland and you were very happy to see it. This tells you I am a messenger from Rāma.
“Kaikeyi, the queen of Dasharatha, confused in her mind, asked for two boons from Dasharatha and the king with a sorrowful heart was unable to refuse and granted the boons. He sent Rāma away saying, ‘O dear son of our family! Go and stay in the forest!’ and Rāma went with his brother Lakshmaṇa. This tells you I am a messenger from Rāma.
“O Vaidehi, beautiful one with breasts are encircled by a band, this is my request to you, the royal queen of the king of Ayodhya, who has a beautiful chariot. Give me your grace and hear me. He became a good friend of Guhan, who, skilled in using a sharp spear, lived on the bank of Ganges. This tells you I am a messenger from Rāma.
“O Vaidehi, as lovely as a doe, with words as sweet as milk, this is my request. When you and Rāma went to the forest filled with stony paths and stayed in Chithrakuḍam where the mountain slopes are covered with groves and flowers drip honey Bharatha came and worshiped you. This tells you I am a messenger from Rāma.
“When you were in Chithrakuḍam, a small crow came and touched your breast. You were scared when Rāma shot an arrow at the crow and the crow, frightened, flew all over the world. You called Rāma, saying, ‘O Rāma, clever one, come, you are my refuge.’ At once Rāma came and made the crow blind in one eye. This tells you I am a messenger from Rāma.
“This is the request of your true slave to you whose waist is as thin as lightning. Hear me. When a golden deer came in the forest and played sweetly, you asked your beloved husband to bring it to you, and when he took his bow and went to catch it, he asked Lakshmaṇa to watch you. But Laksmaṇa left you without guarding you searching for Rāma because he heard Rāma calling him and thought he was in trouble. This tells you I am a messenger from Rāma.
“O Vaidehi, with hair dark as kohl decorated with beautiful flowers, this is request of me, the monkey chief. The king of Ayodhya told all these things to me so that I could search for you. Here is a ring from his hand— the best of all signs that I am his messenger.”
Sita saw the ring of Rāma, praised in all directions. She thought of the day when Rāma came to Janaka’s palace, broke the bow in the middle of a large assembly of kings and married her. Sita, decorated with flowers on her hair, said, “O Hanuman, this is a marvelous sign!” and joyfully put the ring on the top of her head.
The Paṭṭarpiran of Puduvai, praised by all the world, described in pāsurams the signs by which the famous Hanuman convinced Vaidehi when he saw her, the beautiful one whose breasts were tied with a band. If devotees recite these pāsurams they will stay with him in divine Vaikuṇṭam.

Devotees search for the God.

If you want to find the matchless Rāma whose bright crown shines like the rays of thousands of suns joined together, go to the people who saw him with his claws bloodied after he split open the chest of heroic Hiraṇyan whose strong arms were decorated with bracelets.
If you want to find the famous Rāma carrying a sword, conch, club, bow that twangs loudly as it shoots arrows and divine discus, go to the people who saw him at Sita’s suyavaram in the palace of Janaka, the king of kings, where Rāma broke the strong bow for Sita whose beautiful fingers are like blooming kandal flowers.
If you are searching anxiously for him who broke the tusks of the murderous elephant, killed the Kauravas fighting in the Bharatha war and destroyed the mara trees with his bow, go to the people who saw him on the seashore with rolling waves, when the monkey clan carried large stones and made a bridge on the ocean with rolling waves.
If you are searching for the magical child, the ancient god resting in the middle of the ocean, come, I will tell you the way. Go to people who were there and saw him when he sweated and fought the seven strong bulls and killed them for the love of the beautiful cowherd girl Nappinnai.
If you are searching for the divine Thirumāl, praised by Nānmuhan and Shiva with red jaṭa where the Ganges flows, go to the people who were there and saw him when he took Rukmaṇi, her breasts tied with a band, on his chariot and her brother, Rukman came to oppose him on the way.
If you are searching for the place of the handsome sapphire-colored god, the heroic one who drank milk from the breasts of the ugly devil Putanā and killed her, go to the people who saw him seated on a throne surrounded by thousands of queens in famous Dvarapuri.
If you want to know the place of your god with a sounding white conch in his left hand and a divine shining discus in his right, come, I will tell you. Go to the people who saw him driving a chariot yoked to white horses and decorated with victorious monkey flags in the Bharatha war where he used his tricks to help Arjuna.
If you want to see the young son of Devaki, Kaṇṇan, the lord who hid the light of the sun with his discus for thirty nalihais, made enemy kings wait and conquered them, go to the people who saw him drive the chariot for Arjuna when Arjuna fought and killed Jayathratha in the Bharatha war.
If you are searching anxiously for our lord who swallowed the earth, the mountains, the wavy oceans and everything else and spat them out, go to the people who saw him when he became a boar that no one can imagine, dug up the ground and brought the earth from the underworld and married the earth goddess with lovely dark hair.
The Paṭṭarpiran of Puduvai where good paddy grows in fertile fields described in pāsurams the places where the devotees who search for the dark cloud-colored god can find him. If devotees recite these ten pāsurams and praise him in their hearts they will reach the feet of the highest god.

The beauty of Thirumālirunjolai

The mountain of him, the king, the light of the family of the cowherds who destroyed the clan of the Rakshasas when they wandered about and scared and afflicted people, is the southern Thirumālirunjolai where divine Apsarases come and wander as their anklets jingle and where the river Silambāṛu flows.
The mountain of the divine god who cut off the thousand arms of his strong enemy Baṇasuran, the ten heads of Ravaṇan who carried a strong sword, and his sister Surpanakha’s nose is the lovely southern Thirumāirunjolai, whose fame is spread in all places and has remained and will remain for many ages.
The golden mountain of the glorious lord who leads the noble, the great and the evil on the right paths is cool Thirumālirunjolai that will change the lives of the devotees who go there always and worship him.

341.The mountain of the god who carried Govardhana mountain to save the cows and the family of the cowherds when Indra, the king of the gods, tried to destroy their festival with a storm is the southern Thirumālirunjolai where a river of honey flows just like the river that flows in the Karpaga garden blooming with lovely flowers.

342.The mountain of the lord who saved Gajendra when a crocodile caught him in a pond, and destroyed Kamsan, strong as an elephant, is fertile Thirumālirunjolai where the strong male elephant searched for his mate that was angry and had left him, and when he could not find her, he promised on the dark ocean-colored god that he would behave when she returned.

The mountain of the clever god with lovely arms smeared with sandal paste who killed the wrestlers sent by his uncle Kamsan to oppose him is southern Thirumālirunjolai where the gods and the good sages worship him, saying that he is their refuge.
The mountain of the lord who gave water to the horses and caused a flood and drove the chariot in the battle for his brothers-in-law to help them conquer the Kauravas is southern Thirumālirunjolai, praised by the Pandiyan king Neḍumaran with a sharp spear and bent bow of Kuḍal city in the south.
The golden mountain of the precious god who if enemy kings do not approach him, destroys their countries and makes them walk on small paths in cruel forests is southern Thirumālirunjolai where at dawn thousands of bees with six legs and stripes on their bodies sing his thousand names.
The mountain of the dear one where Bhudams offer copious food with red blood and give sacrifices in the evening and worship the god is southern Thirumālirunjolai where the velvet mites whose bodies are red like the sweet lips of our god fly around in groves where honey drips,
The mountain of the faultless god who stays in majesty surrounded by his many beautiful queens shining in all the eight directions is southern Thirumālirunjolai where village cows play with their bulls and in the evening go back and think of the happiness that they enjoyed together.
Vishṇuchittan of Villiputhur, always the devotee of the dark ocean-colored god, composed pāsurams about the beautiful Thirumālirunjolai hills surrounded with fields and groves. If devotees recite his pāsurams and worship the god they will reach Kaṇṇan’s ankleted feet.

Praising the mountain Thirumālirunjolai

The mountain of the heroic god who tied Rukman on his chariot when he came to take his sister back after Kaṇṇan took Rukmaṇi with him, is the majestic Thirumālirunjolai where the kondrai trees on the hills shower golden flowers that look like wheels and coins as if they were generous and lovingly gave coins to the poor.
The mountain of the sapphire-colored lord who killed Kamsan, Kālingan, the elephant Kuvalayabeeḍam, the marudu trees and the seven bulls when he was growing up, is Thirumālirunjolai where a poisonous snake comes and hides the cool beautiful moon with his shining tongue thinking he can swallow it.
The mountain of the dark ocean-colored god who killed Narahasuran with his craftiness and attracted and married his young daughters is Thirumālirunjolai surrounded with beautiful groves where the flowers of blooming punnai, cherundi, punavengai and kongu trees look like golden garlands.
The mountain of the matchless lord, strong as a bull, who released Anirudhan from Vaṇan’s prison and arranged the marriage of Anirudhan with Ushai is Thirumālirunjolai where gypsy women with lovely voices dance and sing kuṛinji songs and praise Govindan, the beloved child of the cowherds.
The mountain of the handsome Kaṇṇan adorned with jewels who relieved Sisupalan of his afflictions even though he blamed Kaṇṇan for some small tricks he did is Thirumālirunjolai, a majestic mountain, beautiful, flourishing, victorious, the greatest and highest mountain on earth.
The mountain of our dear Kaṇṇan who made the hundred wives of the Kauravas suffer like Panchali, the wife of the five Paṇḍavas, when she was oppressed by the Kauravas is the ancient southern Thirumālirunjolai, the hill of the divine lord where a swarm of beautiful bees sings lovely songs and drinks honey.
The mountain of the lord who as Rāma, destroyed the Rakshasa clan with his strong arms for the sake of his thick-haired wife Sita, is the beautiful Thirumālirunjolai where a clear waterfalls descends bringing gold as it flows and all people join together and bathe.
The mountain of the god who destroyed Lanka with his fiery arrows, bending his bow heroically, is Thirumālirunjolai where all the gods and Indra the king of gods go and worship him and where the bright sun, moon and the stars surrounding it shine.
The mountain of the faultless lord who as a boar playfully dug up the earth with his tusk, measured the earth as Vamana and swallowed it as baby Kaṇṇan is Thirumālirunjolai where the cool river Silampāṛu collects and brings many things and places them at the feet of the god as offerings to worship him.
The mountain of the faultless one who rests on Adishesha with a thousand shining crowns and a thousand arms is beautiful Thirumālirunjolai where there are a thousand rivers, a thousand springs and a thousand blooming groves, all ruled by the lord Thirumāl.
Vishṇuchithan described and praised the god of the mountain Thirumālirunjolai, the ocean of nectar, the creator of the four Vedas, the ocean of nectar, the generous Karpaga tree in heaven, the deep meaning of Vedantha and the highest light, shining in all eight directions. Praising the Devotees of Thirumāl in Thirukkoṭṭiyur and blaming those who are not Vaishnavas
Thirukkoṭṭiyur is where devotees live CHECK who never say wrong things, feed guests every day, serve the god, and learn and recite the Vedas. Our ancient god, our creator is the three gods Nanmuhan, Shiva and Indra. How could he has created sinful people in Thirukoṭṭiyur who do not think of him?
In Thirukkoṭṭiyur the faultless devotees do only good deeds, do service to their gurus, never get angry and are generous. The sapphire colored lord has swallowed all the seven worlds. If the devotees do not worship him, could they have been born just to give terrible pain to their mothers?
Thirukoṭṭiyur is filled with porches studded with beautiful precious diamonds and emeralds and filled with cool shadow where the devotees count with their fingers the divine names of the auspicious god Thirumāvaḷavan. How can people live there not thinking of the god even for a moment, not counting the names of him with their fingers, and merely swallowing food with their dirty mouths.
Thirukoṭṭiyur is surrounded with fields filled with beautiful lotuses and flocks of white swans that are like the white conches in the hands of the lord resting on the soft snake bed. What sins would the water people there drink and the clothes they wear have to commit to make them fail to recite with their tongues his names that destroy hell for them?
In Thirukkoṭṭiyur young valai fish jump over the backs of turtles, knock over lovely flowers and play in the water mischievously. The hard-hearted ones living there without thinking of the lord with a discus in his strong hand should eat grass instead of rice. They are a burden to the earth.
Thirukoṭṭiyur is where devotees live praising Narasimhan, and performing the five sacrifices, never disturbed by water, sky, earth, wind or fire or the troubles that the five senses bring. The world is fortunate because dust falls on the earth from the feet of those generous devotees.
In Thirukoṭṭiyur how much tapas must have been done by those living there, where Vediyars recite the four Vedas night and day and cowherds graze their cattle with sticks from kurundam trees and celebrate many festivals and devotees folding their hands worship the dark cloud-like lord.
Thirukkoṭṭiyur is where the lovely-eyed Thirumāl made the good king Abhimanadungan his devotee so that he praised and worshiped god every day. Rakshasas will never be able to take the grain that grows in that land where devotees sing the greatness of Govindan in the temple that is on the cool waterfront.
Thirukkoṭṭiyur is filled with flourishing fields and surrounded with beautiful walls that are like pure gold. The cuckoo birds that live on the branches of the groves there sing the fame of Govindan. When I see the devotees praising our dear Narasimhan, I want to live like them so my worldly desires go away.
Thirukoṭṭiyur is where generous people live, giving food to others without hiding it even if they need to sell whatever is in their hands for some money. They praise him , saying, “You are Kesavan, you are the Purshothaman, you are a shining light, you are the dwarf.” They would even sell themselves to do good for the devotees of him.
If those wandering without serving as slaves to the ancient god in Thirukkoṭṭiyur surrounded by fertile fields and flourishing water recite without mistakes the pāsurams of the faultless Paṭṭarpiran Vishṇuchithan of beautiful Puduvai, they will become the devotees of Rishikesa.

Advising the people to worship god before the time of their death

Even if people have only thought of their mothers, fathers, children, and wives with fragrant hair, if they close their eyes when they are dying and praise the god and say, “Kesava, Purushothama, you became a boar and you are faultless,” they are my dear friends, and no words are enough for me to praise them.
If people who were never the devotees of Nārāyaṇan are sick and their wounds become putrid and swarm with flies, and if, fainting and coming to the end of their lives, they fold their hands and worship him, saying “Namo Nārāyaṇa,” they will never again go near people who are not the devotees of Nārāyaṇan.
If someone has collected and saved wealth and if his relatives come to him before his death and ask greedily, “Tell us where you keep your wealth! Tell us where you keep it!” if he, without saying anything, makes his heart a temple of Madhavan, places the god there and sprinkles his love as flowers, he will be saved even if a snake comes to bite him.
When someone is old, his breathing may become thin. His neck will be swelling with air. His legs and hands will be shaking. If he says the mantra of one sound before he closes his eyes and thinks of him, he will go to heaven.
Before someone comes to the time of his death and the water he has drunk is spit out and the food that he ate is vomited and his eyes close, if he praises god saying, “Rishikesa!” on his way, the dogs will not come. No one will hurt him with their spears. He will not lose his wealth any time.
Before someone loses the sense of his eyes, nose, mouth, ears and touch, and before his breath ceases, and before he can no longer swallow the water given to him from a conch, and before his head sags to the side, if he thinks in his heart of the Māyan Madhusudhanan resting on the ocean, abundant with water, there is nothing that he cannot achieve.
Before the heartless messengers of Yama enter someone’s home like kidnappers, tie him with strong ropes and pull him away, if he worships in his heart faultlessly and says “O Madhusudana, you are my king, I am your slave!” he will reach heaven.
Before someone’s relatives gather together, speak only of his good qualities and not his faults, sing and sing, and put him on a bier and take him to the burning ground and leave him there in the forest after putting new clothes on him, if he sings, dances and worships the god Govindan adorned with the Kausthubham ornament, he will escape from Yama and join the god.
Before someone cannot speak and his weakening eyes shed water and his mother, father and wife weep, and before fire takes hold of his body, if he worships the lord and thinks of himself as the devotee of the lovely-eyed Thirumāl, and if he thinks of the god as his relative, he will escape from Yama’s messengers.
Vishṇuchithan, the chief of Villiputhur, composed ten pāsurams which say that if people worship the lord and ask for his refuge and become his devotees, before Yama’s messengers come and take them they will be able to reach god. If people learn and recite these pāsurams they will become devotees, thinking only of him..

Advising the devotees about naming children with the names of god.

O poor ones! You gave your children mean names of the rich because you wanted to get money, clothes with decorations and other things from them. If you give the name of Kesavan and live worshipping him, the god Nāraṇan will not send the mothers of your children to hell.
O poor ones! You name your children the names of people even if they are not good, because you wish them to give you some clothes. If you call your children, “O lovely-eyed Neḍumāl, O Sridhara,” Nāraṇan will not send the mothers of your children to hell.
Why did you name your children with the names of those who give you oil to put on your children’s hair, and give ornaments and bracelets to decorate them? Even if you have to live by begging, you should give your children the divine name of our god Nārāṇan. If you do, Nāraṇan will not send the mothers of your children to hell.
You will not be blessed in your next birth if you give that child the name of another person than god. If you call your child, “O Madhava, king of heaven, Govinda,” Naraṇan who is in all hearts will not send the mothers of your children to hell.
You will not be blessed in your next birth if you give the name of another human born from an unclean womb. If you call him, saying, “O Govinda, Govinda! You have been born in a good family!” Nāraṇan who does only good things for all will not send the mothers of your children to hell.
Do not give human names to your children like others joining with the people of your country and town and celebrating with them the name ceremony for their children. Do not fall in the ditch like them. If you approach the god and worship him saying, “O Nāraṇa, you destroyed the Asuran when he came as a cart. You are our chief, O Damodara!” he will not send the mothers of your children to hell.
O, ignorant ones! Your children are human and they were born from unclean bodies and will return to the earth. You gave them the name of people and do not realize what you have done is not good. Think of giving the name of the dark cloud-colored one who is sweet to the eyes. Approach Nāraṇan. He will not send the mothers of your children to hell.
If you give your children the names of village people such as “nambi, pimbi,” those “manbu, pimbu” will be forgotten in a few days. If you give them the name of the lovely lotus-eyed lord, O friends, Nāraṇan will not send the mothers of your children to hell.
Giving the name of the dark cloud-colored god to your children born in an unclean body is like pouring nectar into a dirty ditch. But if you wear the nāmam and dance and sing the praise of Nāraṇan who is never false to his promises, he will not send the mothers of your children to hell.
Vishṇuchithan from the ancient village of Veeraṇai, is praised by all, always, and he worshipped the divine name of Thirumāl. He composed ten beautiful Tamil pāsurams about how people should name their children with the names of the god. If devotees recite these ten beautiful pāsurams they will go to the divine splendid Vaikuṇṭam and stay there happily forever.

The praise of Kaṇḍa Thiruppadi

Dasharatha’s son, Rāma who cut off the heads of Ravaṇan and the nose of his sister Surpanakha stayed in Kaṇḍam and rules as his fame spreads everywhere. If a devotee goes there where our lord Purushothaman stays and merely says, “Ganges, Ganges!” his bad karma will disappear and he will receive the virtue of joining his hands to worship the god on the banks of the Ganges.
Divine Kaṇḍam, the Thiruppadi where the water of the southern Ganges flows mixed with kondrai blossoms that decorate the matted hair of Shiva shining with goodness and with thulasi that adorns the feet of Nāraṇan is where Thirumāl Purushothaman stays. That dark sapphire-colored one grew to the sky and measured it for Mahābali, frightening the cool moon and the hot sun.
Divine Kaṇḍam is where the Ganges flows carrying shining diamonds from the hand of the four-headed Nānmuhan onto the feet of the four-armed god to stay in the matted hair of Sankaran who bows to the lord’s feet. It is the Thiruppadi where Purushothaman stays who blows the roaring valamburi conch and cuts off the heads of his enemies with his fiery discus.
Divine Kaṇḍam is on the banks of the famous Ganges that descends from the Himalaya mountains and flows to the shore of the large sea, shaking the mountains with its roaring that spreads all over the earth. It is the Thirupathi where our lord Purushothaman stays carrying his Nandaham sword that sent his enemies’ armies to the land of Yama and helped the gods in the sky rule their lands.
Divine Kaṇḍam is on the banks of the Ganges and has the power to take away the sins of seven births in one moment. It is in that Thiruppadi that our Thirumāl Purushothaman stays who carries a plough, pestle, bow, shining discus, conch, axe and sword.
Divine Kaṇḍam is on the banks of the Ganges with rolling waves where paddy fields flourish and rishis bathe and do powerful tapas. It is in that Thiruppadi that Purushothaman, the king of Mathura, stays who stopped the rain with Govardhana mountain using it as an umbrella when the thick clouds poured rain with the sound “chala, chala” and thundered.
Beautiful Kaṇḍam is on the bank of the Ganges whose fragrant water flows mixed with Karpaga flowers, with the sweet-smelling sandal paste of young girls bathing in it and with the fragrant musth of the Indra’s wonderful elephant Airavadam. It is in that Thirupadi that lord Purushothaman who controlled the elephant Kuvalayabeeḍam and, fighting with the king Kamsan, kicked and killed him stays holding a bow.
Beautiful Kaṇḍam is on the banks of the Ganges where the fragrance of sacrifices spreads on both shores and their smoke continually rises in long streams. That Thirupadi is the place of Hari Purushothaman, the king of Dvaraka surrounded by the roaring ocean and strong walls who took the land of Duryodhana and gave it to his brothers-in-laws.
The Thiruppadi of Purshothaman who stays in SāḷakkiRāmam, Vaikuṇṭam, Dwaraga, Ayodhya, Adari and northern Madhura is the divine Kaṇḍam where the flood of the Ganges flows shaking the mountains with its roaring and undermining the earth and making the trees on its banks fall.
The lord who is all three gods, who measured the world with three footsteps, the Purushothaman who gives his grace to his devotees stays in Divine Kaṇḍam on the bank of the Ganges surrounded by flourishing groves
Vishṇuchithan, the chief of Villiputhur who has no troubles in his life, composed with devotion ten Tamil pāsurams on Purushothaman, the god of Kaṇḍam where the Ganges flows with abundant, gurgling water. If devotees recite these pāsurams, they will go to Vaikuṇṭam and stay beneath Thirumāl’s ankleted feet.

Srirangam, the divine Thiruppadi

The Thiruppadi of him who gave life to the rishi Shantipini’s son after he had died in the wave-filled ocean as an offering for the guru who taught him is Srirangam surrounded with water where honey drips from blossoms and water dashes on the banks of Kaveri river, and where pure Vediyars skilled in the Vedas bathe, wash and dry their clothes,
The Thiruppadi of the lord who brought the four children of his guru back to life quickly when they could not be alive as soon as they were born is Srirangam where good Vediyars skilled the Vedas live, making sacrifices with fire and receiving guests happily.
The Thiruppadi of the lord who protected the clan of his son-in-law and gave life to all his in-laws so that they would not be defeated in the Bharatha war is Srirangam surrounded with water where lotuses as red as his face and kuvalai flowers as dark as his body bloom beautifully everywhere
The Thiruppadi of Thirumāl who was born as Rāma, gave up his kingdom, left his own mother and went to the forest and destroyed the Rakshasas, because his step-mother listened to the cruel words of her servant Manthara is Srirangam where groves bloom with flowers and drip with honey.
The Thiruppadi of Thirumāl who protects this world and fought with his enemy, the strong, proud Ravaṇa, the receiver of many boons is Srirangam surrounded with flourishing groves where cuckoo birds sing and kongu buds open and blossom.
The Thiruppadi of him who went to the underworld, and threw his discus and destroyed the Asurans so that their dynasty would not continue on the earth is Srirangam, where bees buzz like lutes and drink pollen from the petals of screwpine flowers that shower lovely coral-like pollen.
The Thiruppadi of the highest one who fought and destroyed all the Asurans as their red blood bubbled and flowed out along with their fat is Srirangam where the Kaveri flows with abundant water, uprooting and carrying fragrant sandalwood trees from the large mountains and placing them at the feet of the dear lord to worship him.
The Thiruppadi of him who took the forms of a boar with strong teeth to dig up the immeasurable earth and of a lion with shining teeth to split open the body of the Rakshasa Hiraṇyan is Srirangam surrounded by walls where dark-winged bees swarm around jasmine flowers and sing the fame of our god, buzzing like the sound of white conches.
The Thirupadi of the tall Neḍumāl. who has the lovely color of a beautiful dancing peacock, the blue color of the sounding ocean and the color of dark kuvalai blossoms and of the thick clouds that move above the high hills is Srirangam, surrounded by walls where the breeze blows through the yards and touches the breasts of women with vine-like waists and enters into the groves that grow thick on the hills.
Vishṇuchithan composed a garland of ten Tamil pāsurams describing the divine Srirangam, the Thiruppadi of the auspicious god who fought and destroyed Ravaṇa when he, with many boons, came with a large army and opposed Rāma. If devotees sing the pāsurams of Vishṇuchithan and praise the god, the destroyer of the two Rakshasas, Madhu and Kaiṭapa, they will be devotees of the lord.

The divine Srirangam

The Thirupadi of the divine Thirumāl, who gave his kingdom to his brother Bharathan, went to the forest, lived as a sage and destroyed the arrogant southern king Ravaṇa to remove the troubles of the gods in the sky and teturned to rule his kingdom, is the lustrous Srirangam where beautiful neelam flowers swaying in the breeze have the color of the divine feet of him and of the lovely lotus eyes of beautiful Lakshmi.
Even if Lakshmi complains to her beloved that his devotees do things that are wrong he answers her, “My devotees will not do wrong, and even if they do, it is for good reason.” How can the devotees whom the god praises like this become the devotees of other gods? He is my lord of Srirangam who gave his grace to Vibhishaṇa and made him the king of Lanka surrounded by strong walls.
Our lord who destroyed the Asurans when they came as marudu trees in the dark groves, the rutting elephant Kuvalayabeeḍam, the Asuran Pilamban, the Rakshasa Kesi when he came as a wild horse, Sahaṭasuran when he came as a cart, and the wrestlers stays in beautiful Srirangam where he makes the bright sun rise in the sky and removes the darkness of the earth, giving his grace to his devotees as they worship him.
The temple of Thirumāl, our Maṇavāḷar who stays in Duvaṛapuri with sixteen thousands wives serving him is lovely Srirangam surrounded by water precious as gold where fresh lotuses bloom and shine like the lotus on the golden navel of our god.
The matchless lord who took the form of a turtle, who is the Ganges, the deep ocean, earth, large mountains, Nānmuhan, the four Vedas and both sacrifice and offering stays in Srirangam surrounded by rippling water where all the birds embrace the flowers and praise the name of him who rides on the bird Garuḍa. Naradar, giving goodness to all, often goes there and worships him with love.
The Thiruppadi of the lord, giver of life to all, who made his brothers-in-laws kings and made Draupadi tie up her loosened hair and gave life to the son of Uthara is Srirangam that brightens all the directions where devotees, sages, the wise rishis, the people of the world and the siddhas worship him with love.
The Thiruppadi of the lord who took the form of a dwarf, tricking king Mahābali, took his kingdom and at once happily granted him a kingdom in the underworld is Srirangam where our god rests on Adishesha, the snake that spits from its mouth precious diamonds as bright as the morning sun rising from a lovely shining hill.
The Thiruppadi of the lord who grasped the chest of Hiraṇyan, split it open with his sharp nails, pulled his hair, gouged out his eyes and made him scream is Srirangam where flourishing lotus plants grow to the sky like the divine feet of him who measured the sky and good paddy plants bend their heads worshipping his feet.
His forms are a shining fish, a turtle, a boar, a lion, a dwarf, Parasurāman, Balarāman, Rāma, Kaṇṇan and Kalki, the form that will end the world. His Thiruppadi is Srirangam surrounded with rippling water where a male swan with its mate climbs on a lovely lotus, swings on it and jumps on a flower bed, plunging into it and playing in the beautiful pollen.
The generous lord rides on an eagle, defeats his enemies and rules the world. As bright as the sun, he carries the sword Nandaham, creates the Vedas and protects the world. With the goddess Lakshmi on his chest he rests sweetly on the ocean in Srirangam, his Thiruppadi.
Vishṇuchithan, the true devotee, composed ten Tamil pāsurams on divine Srirangam that is worshiped by southern and northern lands where our god stays who carries a fire-like discus and removed the suffering of Gajendra. If devotees recite these ten Tamil pāsurams they will abide under his two feet always.

Requesting the god to come and help when Yama’s messengers come.

When they are old, people go to others who are strong because they believe they will help them. Even though I am not worthy to approach you, I come to you for refuge because you saved the elephant Gajendra from the crocodile when it seized him. When I become old and my time comes to an end and I am suffering, I may not be able even to think of you. Now I have told you what my state will be then. O lord, you rest on the snake bed on the ocean in Srirangam.
Look, you need to come and help me when my time comes to an end, O god with a conch and discus in your hands. The Kingarar, the messengers of Yama, will come to take me and bring me terrible pain. I worship you always. Wherever you go, with your miracles you can prevent any suffering that comes to anyone. I am telling you right now while I can. O lord, you rest on the snake bed on the ocean in Srirangam.
When the Kingarars, the messengers of Yama, come to take me, even if I run to the front door of my house and beg them, saying, “Stop here” they will not do it. O lord with a discus and conch in your hands, whenever I can I worship you and praise you, saying all your names. You should protect me from all trouble and take care of me. O lord, you rest on the snake bed on the ocean in Srirangam.
O lord, you are the whole world and you rest on the snake bed on the ocean in Srirangam. Shiva, the bull rider and Nanmuhan could not find the head or feet of you, the ancient lord praised with the syllable “Om.” When the messengers of Yama come terrifying me because they think my time is up, you must come and protect me.
You, the highest one resting on Adishesha, the snake on the milky ocean, made Nanmuhan on your navel so that he could create all the creatures of the world, and you also made Yama because you thought that the lives of people in this world should not be endless. O dear lord! You should protect me now.
O god, you are the earth, ocean, fire, wind and the sky! The Kingarars, the evil messengers of Yama come and cruelly take people’s lives. Whenever I have thought of you I have recited all your names and worshipped you. O my lord, think of me always and protect me. O lord, you rest on the snake bed on the ocean in Srirangam.
O my father, you are the god of gods, the meaning of the Vedas and their pure words, you are my sweet faultless nectar,and the lord of all the seven worlds. When the Kingarars, the messengers of Yama, come with their cunning forms, make me suffer and take me, you must come to protect me and say, “Do not be afraid!” O lord. you rest on the snake bed on the ocean in Srirangam.
I do not know any of the magic you do. When the Kingarars, the messengers of Yama, come, make me suffer and take me to Yama’s world, I may not be able to think of you, O god of the gods in the sky, O Māya, born in Madhura, my soul is yours. You should protect me. O lord, you rest on the snake bed on the ocean in Srirangam.
You my lord, are the cowherd who grazed the cows and carried Govardhana mountain to protected them. You are the ancient light. From the day I was born until today I have never forgotten you. When the Kingarars, the cruel messengers of Yama, come, make me suffer and take hold of me, you should come and protect me. O lord, you rest on the snake bed on the ocean in Srirangam.
The chief of the Veyar, Vishṇuchittan of Villiputhur, composed ten Tamil pāsurams on Māyavan, Madhusudanan, Mādhavan, and Achudan who rests on a snake bed. If devotees recite these ten pāsurams they will become pure-minded and will be devotees of the sapphire-colored lord.

The poet’s request

O Mādhava, because I do not know how to say anything that is good I do not praise you but still my tongue says nothing but your names. I am afraid, nothing is under my control. You may be angry with me because you think I speak as someone ignorant, but I cannot stop my tongue. Great ones find meaningful things even in the calling of crows. You are the reason for everything, O lord, with an eagle banner.
I compose worthless pāsurams with my useless tongue. You carry a conch and a discus in your hands. Is it not the duty of the great to forgive the mistaken words of their servants? My eyes can only see through your eyes and my mind will not think of any other god except you. I am like a deer— one more dot on its coat does not spoil its loveliness. Surely it is not too much for you to accept my mistakes. O lord, you swallowed all the seven worlds and spat them out.
I do not know what is good or what is bad, all I know is to say, “Nāraṇā.” Before, I said unworthy things about you but now I only praise you. See, O Thirumāl, I do not even know how to think of you. Always I say, ‘Namo Nāraṇa, Namo Nāraṇa.” My only strength is that I am a Vaishaṇavan and live in your temple.
You, the pure, tall god, measured this world with your body. Do not hesitate to make me your slave. Though I do not want any clothes or food I still have not became your slave and am wandering here and there. O lord, you killed the cruel Kamsan and cut the chains of Vasudevan, your father, when he was in prison and released him.
I have placed all my property, wife, cattle, waterways, lands and wells and anything that I have under your golden feet without any worry. It is hard for me to deal with my villagers because they are jealous that I own so much. O lord, you who took the form of a boar, and dug up the earth to bring back the earth goddess and broke the tusk of the elephant and killed it, I need your help.
O dear lord, dark colored creator of the four-headed Nānmuhan and the reason for everything, even if I, your devotee, do not eat, I do not get hungry because worshiping you takes my hunger away. If there is a day when I do not think of you, and do not always say, “Namo Nāraṇa” and do not recite Rig and Sama Vedas and do not place fresh flowers on your feet, that will be the day I starve.
You pretend to sleep on the white flood of ocean on a snake bed, but when I want to see you sleeping on the snake bed, my heart becomes weak and I sob with happiness, my hair stands on end, my eyes shed tears and I cannot rest at all. O tell me, how I can reach you.
You carried the huge beautiful Govardhana mountain, used it as an umbrella and protected the cowherds and the cows from the storm. O Madhusudanan, Kaṇṇa, who released the elephant Gajendra from his suffering and killed the elephant Kuvalayabeeḍam, you, the reason for everything, remove the troubles of your worshipers. You are so famous that I do not have the words to praise you. O my dear lord, give me your grace so that I may approach you and worship you every day.
You are my friend and the god of those who praise you with love. The god of the gods in the sky, you took the form of a man-lion, you measured all the seven worlds, and you are the apocalypse. You, the reason for everything, removed the suffering of the elephant Gajendra when he was caught by a crocodile and you churned the milky ocean with the gods in the sky. . Make me your devotee and protect me. I am weak—remove my suffering.
He is Mādhavan and Madhusudanan, the emerald-colored father of Kama, a lion to his enemies who took the form of a dark-haired dwarf and is sweet for me. Vishṇuchithan the chief of Puduvai that flourishes with goodness composed ten wonderful Tamil pāsurams on him. If devotees recite these pāsurams they will reach the world of Nāraṇan soon.

Asking diseases to go away because the god will protect the Azhvar and his devotees.

O diseases that stay and spread on our bodies like the ants that swarm around the ghee pot and climb on it, you go away and we want to become well. The god of the Vedas entered into my body and stays there lying on the snake bed. It is not my old body. God is there now and he protects it.
The plan that Chitragupthan wrote by the order of Yama, the king of the southern direction, is canceled and the messengers of Yama have run and hidden themselves, leaving me alone because I am a slave of the devotees of the ancient god, the all-knowing one resting on the ocean, the lord of the wise and nectar for his devotees. My body is not the same as it was. God is in it now and he protects me.
My lord who brought me from my mother’s womb helped me control the desires of my five senses, removed the craving of this body of nerves and flesh, and kept the messengers of Yama from binding me with ropes and taking me away. He taught me to become his devotee night and day and serve him. My body is not the same as it was. God is in it now and he protects me.
O diseases, you give pain to people because of their bad karma, but see, there is also bad karma for you. Do not enter my body, do not enter it. Do you see how it is not easy to enter my body? Look, my body is the divine temple where the lord who took the form of a man-lion stays. Go away or you will be in trouble. My body is not the same as it was. He is in it now and he protects me.
O diseases, I made Māyan who took the form of a dwarf enter my mind and I kept him there with love. I have nothing else in my mind. See, my mind is a precious treasure that keeps a diamond. He is strong and he is mischievous. Do not hesitate. Go away. My body is not the same as it was. God is in it now and he protects me.
O diseases that bring suffering to people, I will tell you something, listen. My body is the divine temple of him who grazed cows. Be careful or you will get bad karma. There is nothing you can have here. You should go away. My body is not the same as it was. God is in it now and he protects me.
I was attracted, slipped and fell into the small cave that is called a woman’s breast. I plunged into it and could not get out. My dear lord, colored like the shining ocean removed my bad karma and saved me from my troubles. My body is not the same as it was. God is in it now and he protects me.
Decorated with fine silk, he came to me as a divine guru, saved me from all my troubles, entered my heart that is like a blooming lotus and marked me with his foot on my neck behind my head. My body is not the same as it was. God is in it now and he protects me.
Do not sleep, do not sleep, do not sleep, O bright shining discus, do not sleep. O conch, do not sleep. O Nanthaka sword that follows the path of dharma, do not sleep. O beautiful Sarngam bow, do not sleep. O mace, do not sleep. O eight guardians of the world who do not fail in your work, do not sleep. O Garuḍa king of birds, do not sleep. Watch my room when I rest, do not sleep. My body is not the same as it was. God is in it now and he protects me.
I, the poet Vishṇuchithan, praise the lord who came and entered my heart lying on his snake bed on the beautiful milky ocean that has roaring waves with Lakshmi, beautiful as a statue. He rests on the ocean and I worship him so that he will help me compose these pāsurams on paṭṭinam kāppu.

Requesting the god of Thirumālirunjolai not to leave the devotee’s heart.

O father, lord of Thirumālirunjolai, I released myself from the sufferings of this world, became your devotee and saw you. I will not allow you to leave my heart. O lord, you came to this world and were born from the womb of Devaki as her seventh child after she had lost six children.
I embraced you, keep you in my heart. and will not allow you to leave me. If you hide yourself with your magical tricks I swear by you that what you do is not right. You, my father, are lord of Thirumālirunjolai surrounded with pure water that removes the bad karma of the people of all lands and all cities.
I have done much tapas to serve you. If I go to another god and serve him, it will destroy your pride, god of beautiful Thirumālirunjolai where a gypsy tribe plants grain in the earth, grows new crops, worships you and says, “We worship your golden feet and eat the new grain.”
O father, lord of Thirimālirunjolai, I suffered wandering many miles in this life. There is no shade for me here and there is no water for me here. I see no refuge that would let me survive except the shade beneath your feet. O god, you went as a messenger for the Paṇḍavas, told lies to the Kauravas making them your enemies and were the cause of the deaths of all those who died on the battlefield in Kurukshetra.
My feet do not have the strength to walk and the tears from my eyes do not stop. My body becomes weak and trembles. I cannot speak. I shiver, my arms are twisted and I can’t make them straight. My mind is fascinated by you and thinks only of you and I begin to praise you and live, O my father, lord of Thirumālirunjolai surrounded by springs where fish frolic.
Shiva with his bull banner, Nanmuhan, Indra and all others do not know the cure for the sickness that is this birth. You, beautiful like a bright sapphire, are the healer who can cure the sickness that is birth. O my father, lord of Thirumālirunjolai, give me your grace so I may enter your world and not be born again.
I was plunged in the sufferings of this world and now by your generous grace have been released from them. I am tired. Please give me your grace and say to me, “Don’t be afraid.” O god of Thirumālirunjolai with a shining discus, your hands are strong, your eyes are lovely, you wear silk garments, and your body has the color of the red evening sky.
I thought I could see you today or tomorrow. I suffered longing to see you for many ages and many eons. Now I will not leave you who destroyed all the hundred Kauravas, and gave life to their enemies the Pandavas, your brothers-in-law. Don’t you know that my heart is with you, O my father, god of Thirumālirunjolai?
Even when I was in my mother’s womb I wanted to serve you as a slave. I was born in this world and I found you— how could I leave you who fought with Baṇasuran and with your discus cut off his thousand arms, scattering them in all the directions, O my father, lord of Thirumālirunjolai.
Vishṇuchittan the chief of Puduvai that is filled with golden shining palaces, composed pāsurams about the lord of Thirumālirunjolai where people of the world go and play in the spring water. If devotees recite these ten pāsurams they will become devotees of the god who measured the world.

The Azhvar describes the benefits he has received because god has entered into his heart.

You, Damodharan, the clever lord of the rich, lofty Thiruvenkaṭam hills, flourish and protect the world. I put the mark of your discus on myself and on all my possessions. I live because of your grace. What do you want me to do now?
You are the highest god who rides on the eagle Garuḍa. After you possessed me the ocean of my births dried up and now I have reached the highest place. My sins have burned up as if in a forest fire and I have plunged into the river of nectar of knowledge.
You, the god of my family, my master, entered my heart. Who could ever get the goodness that I have received? All the sins of the world that made me suffer have run away and hidden in the bushes.
O lord with arms as strong as mountains and a discus and the bow saragam in your hands, you are the servant of your devotees. Like the gods when they churned the ocean of milk and filled a pot with nectar, I opened my mouth and filled my body with you and my heart melted. Even cruel Yama will not be able to come near my feet with his club.
You are my father, my Rishikeshan, and the protector of my life. Like someone who brightens gold by rubbing it on a touchstone, through your grace I kept you faultlessly and praised you with my tongue and in my heart. .
You are Rāma and the best among men. You carried an axe in your left hand when you came to the earth as Balarāma to rule the world. As if I were drawing on a wall, I drew your form in my heart perfectly and you came to me, O my dear one, Don’t go anywhere leaving me.
O lord who broke the tusks of the elephant Kuvalayabeeḍam, . fought and defeated the wrestlers, like the king of the Pandya country who placed his mark on the mountains, you placed your bright, divine feet on my head and made me your own. I have always praised your name with my good tongue.
You, a tall one with a discus, you came into my heart along with Adishesha and Garuḍāzhvar, stayed there and made me alive. My heart melts when I think how you stay there, tears fill my eyes and flow down and I need only think of you for my sorrows to disappear.
You left your snake bed on the cool ocean, came running to me, and now you stay in the ocean of my heart. You who are my magical and beloved god, the Māyan, the best of all the beloved of Nappinnai, a matchless ocean and a precious light are the unique world. You made my heart your abode and you own me.
O, dear one, you, a light, stay in my heart like a shining lamp and are like a tall bright coral vine that grows on a large hill. You did not want to stay in the northern ocean, in Vaikuṇṭam, in Dwarapuri surrounded by walls, or in other places. You left them all and came into my heart.
Vishṇuchithan, born in the tribe of the Veyar, praises him, the cowherd, the beautiful cool cloud-colored lord, the bull of the cowherds, the king of gods and the nectar of the Andanars. If devotees sing the pāsurams of Vishṇuchittan they will reach him as his shadows.