रामानुजीये विश्वासटिप्पन्यः

The cowherd women worship Kāma, the god of love.

We clean the floor in the month of Thai and decorate it with beautiful kolams. In the month of Masi we use soft white powder and make lovely decorations in our front yard. O Kamadeva, I worship you and your brother Saman. I wonder, can I survive this love sickness? Give me the boon of belonging to the lord of Thiruvenkaṭam holding a discus in his hand that throws out fire.
We decorate our front yard with soft white sand. We bathe at dawn when the sun comes out and make fire with sticks that have no thorns. I make all efforts to worship you, O Kamadeva with your flower arrows that drip honey. I write the name of the ocean-colored one in my mind. Give me your grace so I may enter the place of him who split open the mouth of the Asuran when he came as a bird.
I worship your feet all three times of the day placing fragrant umatham flowers and blossoms of murukkam on them. O Manmatha, I don’t want to be angry with you and scold you, saying that you are heartless. Get ready with your fresh flower arrows and give me your grace so I may enter into the brightness of the clever lord of Venkaṭam hills.
O Kamadeva, god without a body, I wrote your name on the wall, and I made a fish flag and gave it to you with horses, fans and a sugarcane-bow. I worshipped you and asked you to give me your grace so that my round breasts would belong at once to the lord of Dwarapuri.
If people wish to give me away in marriage so that my round breasts belong to someone human instead of the pure lord with a conch and discus, it would be as if foxes that wander in the forest came and ate the food that the sages make in a sacrifice for the gods in the sky. O Manmatha, I will not live if I have to marry someone other than my lord.
I am doing nombu on the streets where you will be going with beautiful young girls who know the sastras, O Kamadeva. He has the dark color of the clouds and the kāyām flower and shines like a karuvilai blossom. Give me your grace so that the lotus-faced lord will see me with his divine eyes and give me his grace.START
I offer paddy, sugarcane, cooked rice with brown sugar and aval and worship you reciting the manthras from the sastras. O Manmatha, I bow to you. Give me your grace so that Thirivikraman who measured the world will touch me with his divine hands. Give me your grace so that he will approach me and touch my breasts.
I don’t bathe when it is time for my nombu. I don’t comb my hair. I eat once a day and my mouth grows pale because I haven’t eaten enough. You can see how I suffer for this nombu. I want tell you something: Kesavan Nambi fought with the Asuran Kesi to protect a woman. Give me your grace so that he will show me the same compassion and I will have the fortune of sitting with him and pressing his feet.
I sprinkle flowers and worship you and bow to your feet three times a day. If I am unable to live for the dark ocean-colored lord and to serve him faultlessly, I will cry and suffer and you, Kamadeva, will feel bad. It will be as if you didn’t feed an ox that plows and hit it with a stick instead.
Vishṇuchithan Kodai, the chief of Puduvai where the mountain-like palaces shine composed pāsurams about the women who worshiped Kama, with a sugarcane bow and flower arrows. and how they wanted his grace so that they might be with the god who broke the tusks of the elephant and split open the beak of the bird.

Women asks Kaṇṇan not to destroys their sand houses.

O Nārāyaṇā praised with a thousand names, if Yashoda had given birth to you, it would be easy for us to love you because you would be human just like we are. We do nombu in the month of Punguni because that is the month when Kama comes. O Sridhara, don’t bother us, don’t come and destroy our little sand houses.
We worked all day to build these sand houses and our backs hurt. Look at our sand houses. They make us happy. O ancient one who slept on a banyan leaf as a baby, it is a pity that you are not kind to us. Do not come and destroy our little sand houses.
You who sleep on the deep ocean took the form of a lion to destroy Hiraṇyan and saved Gajendra from the mouth of the crocodile. When we saw you and fell in love with you, you looked at us out of the corner of your eye and didn’t worry about what we might think. We worked hard to make our houses with soft sand and our bangled hands hurt. O lord, you rest on the ocean where clear waves roll. Do not come and destroy our little sand houses.
O lord, you have the color of the rain-giving clouds and your speech and deeds fascinate us. What spell does your beautiful face cast to bewitch us? We won’t complain to others that you trouble us innocent, weak girls. We don’t want them to blame you with your lovely lotus eyes. Don’t come and destroy our little sand houses.
We made our sand houses with soft white sand and everyone on the street was amazed when they saw our lovely sand houses but you came and destroyed them. Even so we aren’t angry at you. Our hearts melt for your love. You are a thief, Madhavan, Kesavan. Don’t you have eyes on your face? Don’t come and destroy our little sand houses.
We are children, not grown-up yet, and our breasts haven’t grown out. You come here to knock over our little sand houses but really wanting to do something else. We don’t understand what you want. You who built a bridge on the ocean, went to Lanka, and fought and destroyed the Raksasa clan are the servant of all of your devotees. Don’t give us trouble, don’t come and destroy our little sand houses.
If you talk to people who understand what you say, that will be all right, but if you talk to us who are young and don’t know anything, it just hurts us. What do you gain from that? You who have the color of the wide sounding ocean and built the bridge Sethu will get in trouble with your wives. Don’t come and destroy our little sand houses.
We brought a pot, a winnowing fan and sand, built sand houses and are playing as we like. What is the use of destroying our sand houses? What do you get if you come and kick them down and give us trouble? Ocean-colored wone with a shining discus in your hand, don’t you know that even jaggery will not be sweet if your mind is bitter? Don’t come and destroy our little sand houses.
O Govinda, you enter our yard and, smiling, not only destroy do you our little sand houses, you destroy our hearts as well. You measured the earth and grew tall and measured the sky. What will those standing near us say if you come and embrace us? Do not come and destroy our little sand houses.
Vishṇuchithan Kodai, the chief of Villiputhur where Vediyar recite the Vedas composed pāsurams about what the cowherd girls playing and making little sand houses said to Kaṇṇan. They said, “You who drank the nectar of the mouth of Sita, do not destroy our little sand houses.” If devotees learn these pāsurams well they will go to Vaikuṇṭam.

Cowherd girls asking Kaṇṇan to give their clothes.

We got up in the morning before the rooster crowed and came to bathe, plunging into the water. Our beloved sun god rises coming on his chariot. You who rest on a snake bed give us trouble. We won’t come to the pond from now on. I and my friends worship you. Give us our clothes.
Why did you come here, dear one, how did you come to this pond? You, the Māyan, as sweet as nectar, are adorned with a thulasi garland dripping with honey. O, clever one! We will not leave you even it is our fate. Don’t go away here and there. Don’t take our clothes like this. You who danced on the snake Kalingan, give us back the clothes you put on the kurundam tree.
It is early morning. What is this childishness? If my relatives see this, they won’t like it, but you don’t think what you do is naughty. You sit on the kurundam tree and we can’t reach you. We will give you whatever you want. Give us back our clothes. We will go away and no one will see your mischief. O god you destroyed Lanka with your bow,
We plunge into the pond and bathe. We look everywhere and make sure no one is looking. Our eyes don’t want to stop shedding tears because we don’t have our clothes. You don’t have any pity on us. O lord who destroyed Lanka, we know that you were the king of the monkeys. Give us back the clothes you put on the kurundam tree.
My brothers with spears will come running even if they hear that valai and kayal fish are biting our feet in the pond. It is not a joke. O lord with a beautiful dark-colored body, don’t stay on the kurundam tree with our beautiful clothes. Give us back our silk clothes.
The stalks of the lotus plants that bloom in the pond hurt our feet and it feels as if scorpions were biting us. We can’t bear the pain. We can’t stay in the water for a long time. You, the king, can throw pots in the sky and dance the kuthu dance. Don’t be mischievous. Give us back our silk clothes.
We are sitting in the water, tired while you are doing things you shouldn’t. Our houses are far away. You are the god who knows what will happen when the world ends. We really love you. If our mothers see us, they won’t like it. Drop our silk clothes down to us. Don’t sit in the top of the kurundam tree blooming with flowers.
All the women, the mothers-in-law and others are here bathing. We couldn’t close our beautiful flower-like eyes in the night thinking of your naughty acts. This isn’t good for us. We are telling you about all the troubles you cause. You are the beautiful jewel-like son of the cowherd village. Give us the clothes back that you put on the kurundam tree.
You escaped from the trap of Kamsan and survived in the dark night when you were born. Is it because you wanted to bother us like this? Yashoda loves you so much that she doesn’t scold you even if you are naughty. She just leaves you to do whatever you want. You weren’t ashamed to drink the milk of the wicked Rakshasi Putanā. Give us back our clothes.
Vishṇuchithan Kodai the chief of Puduvai surrounded by golden palaces composed with beautiful music a garland of ten Tamil pāsurams describing the play of the dark lord with the young girls. If devotees learn and recite these pāsurams they will go to Vaikuṇṭam and be with the eternal god Mādhavan.

Drawing a Kūḍal. Young girls draw a circle to see whether their love will be successful.

He, the highest god worshipped by all good people, is the generous Azhahiya Maṇāḷan of Thirumālirunjolai. If you want us to press his feet when he sleeps, O kūḍal, you should come together. Come and join the place you started. Kūḍiḍu kūḍale.
He took the form of Vāmanan stays happily in the forest in Thiruvenkaṭam and in Thirukaṇṇapuram. O kūḍal, if you want him to come here and hold my hands and embrace me, you should come together. Come and join the place you started. Kūḍiḍu kūḍale.
He, the dear son of Devaki with a shining forehead and the wonderful son of famous Vasudeva is praised by Nānmuhan who stays on a lotus and by the other gods. O kūḍal, if you want that king to come to see us, you should come together. Come and join the place you started. Kūḍiḍu kūḍale.
He climbed and danced on the tall blooming kaḍamba tree and jumped into the pond to dance on the heads of strong Kālingan. O kūḍal, if you want that dancer to come to me, you should come together. Come and join the place you started. Kūḍiḍu kūḍale.
He killed the elephant Kuvalayābeeḍam whose forehead was decorated with an ornament. If you want him to come to the middle of our street in Madurai surrounded by big palaces and embrace us, O kūḍal, you should come together. Come and join the place you started. Kūḍiḍu kūḍale.
He does not have any desires. After he had just learned to walk, he killed the Asurans when they came as marudam trees, and he killed Kamsan with his tricks. He is the victorious king of shining Madurai. O kūḍal, if you want him to come here to us, you should come together. Come and join the place where you started. Kūḍiḍu kūḍale.
The lord defeated the evil Shishupālan, killed the Asurans when they came as tall marudu trees, the seven bulls, the bird, and the heroic Kamsan who carried a victorious spear. O kūḍal, if you want that victorious hero to come to us, you should come together. Come and join the place where you started. Kūḍiḍu kūḍale.
The protector of flourishing Dwarapuri who grazes the cows and plays with the cowherds does not enter the minds of people if they do not want to love him. O kūḍal, if you want him to come to us, you should come together. Come and join the place where you started. Kūḍiḍu kūḍale.
In ancient times he went to the sacrifice of king Mahābali as a dwarf and measured the earth with one foot and the sky with the other. O kūḍal, if you want him to come here to us, you should come together. Come and join the place where you started. Kūḍiḍu kūḍale.
Our lord, the inner meaning of the four Vedas, the handsome one whom the cowherd women loved in their hearts, saved Gajendra, the elephant dripping with rut, from the mouth of the crocodile. O kūḍal, if you want him to come here to us, you should come together. Come and join the place where you started. Kūḍiḍu kūḍale.
The poet Vishṇuchithan Kodai composed ten pāsurams about how the curly-haired cowherd women praised the famous god of the world and made a kūḍal so their love would be successful. They longed to love, fight with, feel and embrace him. If devotees learn these pāsurams well they will not have the results of bad karma in their lives.

She asks the cuckoo to call the god.

The beautiful sapphire-colored lord is the eternal Madhavan praised by all in the world, the king decorated with a crown studded with jewels. He gives me trouble. My conch bangles have become loose because I have fallen in love with him. O cuckoo bird living in holes in punnai, kurukkathi, nyāzhal and cherundi trees, won’t you coo and call at all times of the day for the one with a coral-colored mouth to come quickly to me?
The faultless one who carries a sounding white conch in his left hand does not show his form to me. He entered my heart and makes me long for his love. See, he is taking my life away and playing with my feelings. O cuckoo bird, you drink the honey that drips from the blooming shenbaga flowers and sing happily. Don’t be lazy and prattle, just sing and be happy. Coo and call so the lord of Venkaṭam hill will come to me.
As Rāma he fought with Ravaṇan while the charioteer Madali drove his chariot, and he cut off all the ten heads of Ravaṇan, shooting his arrows like rain. I don’t see him coming to me. O cuckoo bird, you live with your beloved mate listening to the kāmaram music of the bees that have dots on their bodies in the groves where fragrant flowers bloom and spread their smell. Coo and call the dark-colored one shining like a diamond so he will come to me.
My bones melt, my long spear-like eyes do not close. I have entered an ocean of sorrow and cannot find the boat that is the Vaikundan to escape my suffering. O cuckoo bird, you know how hard it is to be apart from your beloved. Coo and call the virtuous one with a golden body and an eagle flag and make him come to me.
He stays in Villiputhur where the swans that walk softly play. My fish-like eyes do not close to sleep because they wish to see his golden feet. O cuckoo bird, I will make the beautiful parrot that I raised feeding it sweet rice and milk be your friend. Coo and call him, so that who measured the world will come to me.
Rishikesan, worshiped by the gods in all the directions, made me unhappy with love for him and the beauty of the white pearl-like smile of my red mouth and of my breasts was lost. O young cuckoo bird, you sleep in a beautiful place in a grove blooming with flowers. If you coo and call for him, the true one, to come to me, I will bow my head to you. I don’t know any other way to pay you back.
He rests on the surging milky ocean. My breasts have grown out and are happy because they want to embrace the lord, but they make me sad since I have not seen him. O beautiful cuckoo bird, why are you hiding? If you coo and call and make him with a discus, a conch and a strong club come to me, you will have the good karma of doing many generous acts.
The clever one who is loved by all, shoots arrows from his bow with his strong hands. He and I know the promises that we made when we stayed in our home. O small cuckoo bird who pluck the tender shoots of the sweet mango tree in the grove, if you coo and call for Thirumāl to come here quickly, you will see what I will do for him with my love.
I have fallen in love with Sridharan who has the color of a green parrot. O cuckoo bird living in a grove that swarms with shining bees, give me your attention and listen. Either you should coo and call, asking him with a conch and discus to come to me, or you should find the golden bangles that I have lost and bring them to me. If you want to live in this grove, you should do one of these things.
I fell in love with him who measured the world and became his devotee, but he only makes me sad because I love him and have not seen him. I can’t describe the sorrow that the breeze and the moon give me. O cuckoo bird, don’t make me suffer staying in this grove and cooing always. If you don’t call today for Narayaṇan to come, I will chase you away from here.
The Paṭṭarpirān Kodai, chief of Puduvai where Vediyar recite with music the four Vedas composed ten pāsurams about how a woman with spear-like eyes asked a cuckoo bird to call for him who grew into the sky and measured the world to come, saying, “O dark cuckoo bird, coo and call my ocean-colored beloved.” If devotees learn these pāsurams and recite them and say, “Namo, Narayaṇā!” they will reach him.

Her dream of the Wedding.

O friend, I had a dream. People decorated every place with festoons and put out golden pots with coconuts to welcome Nāraṇan Nambi when he comes in procession surrounded by a thousand elephants.
O friend, I had a dream. My relatives decided the day for my wedding. They decorated a beautiful pandal with kamugu trees. Mādhavan Govindan who once took a form of a lion, strong as a bull, entered into the pandal— I saw him in my dream.
O friend, I had a dream. Indra and the other gods came together, asked for me to be his bride and made all the arrangements. My sister-in-law Durgā tied a silk marriage sari on me and decorated me with fragrant garlands.
O friend, I had a dream. The Brahmin brought divine water from different directions and sprinkled it all over. They sang songs of purification. The priest tied the string bound together with flowers on my hand and on the divine groom’s hand to protect us.
O friend, I had a dream. Dancing women carried shining lights and kalasams and went in front of him and welcomed him. The king of Madura walked touching the earth as the earth shook.
O friend, I had a dream. The drums were beaten, the lined conches were blown and my bridegroom, Nambi Madhusūdanan, came and held my hand under the pandal that was decorated with hanging strings of pearl garlands.
Skilled Vediyars recited the Vedas, and chanted mantras. They made a likeness of the sun with green naṇal grass. He is strong as an angry elephant and he held my hand and we circled the fire.
O friend, I had a dream. He is the refuge for this birth and the fourteen future births. He, our king Narayaṇan Nambi held my feet with his divine, perfect fingers and placed them on the grinding stone.
O friend, I had a dream. My brothers with shining faces and bows came and, standing before us, kindled the fire and made it bright. They joined my hand with the hand of Achuthan who once took the form of a lion, and they poured popped rice on it.
O friend, I had a dream. Adorned with kumkum and smeared with cool sandal paste, I went with him on an elephant in procession circling all the auspicious streets as people sprinkled turmeric water on us.
The chief of Villipputhur Kodai, praised by the family of Veyars, composed a garland of ten Tamil pāsurams that describe the dream of a woman and what she said about her marriage with the cowherd. If devotees learn and recite these ten pāsurams they will give birth to many good children and find happiness.

Praising the conch

O white conch, born in the ocean, tell me—I ask you anxiously. He puts you in his mouth to make the sound of victory. What is the taste and the fragrance of the mouth of Mādhavan who broke the tusks of the elephant? Does it have the fragrance of camphor? Does it have the fragrance of a lotus flower? Does his beautiful red coral mouth taste sweet?
O beautiful conch born in the ocean, you entered the body of the Asuran Panchajanya and now you rest in his hand, making the sound of victory when he conquers the evil Asurans.
You are a wonderful conch! Like the full moon that rises in the autumn from behind the large mountain, you stay in the hands of Vasudevan the king of northern Madura.
O beautiful large valampuri conch, you are like the moon even though you are not in the sky. As you stay in the hand of Damodaran, do you say any mantras in his ears? Even Indra the king of gods does not have the fortune that you have.
O Panchajanya! Others were born along with you in the ocean, but they do not receive the respect that you do. You drink constantly the nectar from the mouth of the king Madhusūdanan.
O Valampuri conch, you have not gone to the Ganges or on other pilgrimages to bathe, yet you rest in the hands of lovely-eyed Thirumāl who destroyed the Asurans when they came as marudam trees. You have the good fortune of plunging into the divine water that comes from his mouth.
O king of conches, like a swan that stays on a fresh red lotus flower and drinks honey, you are held in the beautiful hands of Vasudevan with a dark body and red eyes and you stay with him. Your good fortune is truly wonderful.
O Panchajanya, your food is the nectar that springs from the mouth of him who measured the world and you sleep in the hands of the ocean-colored god. You make women jealous and they complain loudly about your good luck,
O fortunate conch who drink nectar from the mouth of Madhavan as if you were drinking honey, won’t his sixteen thousand wives be angry when they see you with him drinking the nectar that all others want to drink?
Paṭṭarpirān Kodai, famed in rich Puduvai, composed ten Tamil pāsurams describing Padmanābhan with the Panchajanya conch. If devotees learn and recite these pāsurams they will be near him..

The cloud messenger

O clouds, you look like a blue blanket covering the sky. Thirumāl, of Venkaṭam hill where clear water flows has not come to see me and the tears from my eyes fall on my breasts. I am tired and I am only a woman. Is it right that he should destroy my pride like this?
O dark clouds pouring your rain like rich pearls, do you have any message from the god of Venkaṭam, the generous one colored as dark as night? My love for him burns me like fire. If in the middle of the night the breeze comes and hurts me, how will I survive?
O clouds, you are generous and give rain to the earth. My shining beauty, bangles, mind and sleep have all gone, taking my pride with them. I survive only by singing the divine qualities of Govindan, the lord of Thiruvenkaṭam where cool waterfalls flow.
O shining clouds with lightning, he is the lord of Thiruvenkaṭam with the goddess Lakshmi on his handsome chest. Can you tell him that my breasts desire every day to embrace his golden chest?
O dark clouds, rising in the sky and spreading everywhere, you pour rain in Thiruvenkaṭam and make the flowers bloom and drip honey. If you would go to him to bring back my bangles that he has taken away, tell him who split open the body of Hiraṇyan with his sharp claws, how much I love him and suffer.
O cool clouds, you take water from the ocean, rise to the sky and pour rain everywhere in Thiruvenkaṭam of Thirumāl who took the land from Mahābali. Like insects that enter into a vilam fruit and eat it, Nāraṇan has entered into my heart and made me suffer. Go and tell him how much I love him.
O cool clouds floating on the hills of Thiruvenkaṭam of the lovely-eyed Thirumāl who churned the milky ocean filled with conches, I bow to his feet and ask him for one thing. Only if he comes one day and embraces me smearing kumkum paste on my breasts will I be able to survive. Go tell him this.
O clouds that rise in the rainy season in the Thiruvenkaṭam hills, I fall down like the old leaves of the erukkam plants when raindrops fall on them and recite the names of him who went to the battlefield and fought for the Pāndavas. Will he come one day and talk to me?
O huge clouds rising like rutting elephants, you think Thiruvenkaṭam is your place and live there. What does he, resting on the snake bed, wish to tell me? The people of the world may say, “He doesn’t understand that she thinks that he is her refuge and he hurts her, as beautiful as a vine.”
Vishṇuchithan Kodai, the chief of flourishing Puduvai, composed ten Tamil pāsurams about how a girl with a beautiful forehead asks the clouds to go as messengers and tell how she suffers from love for him who rests on the snake bed. If devotees learn these pāsurams and keep them in their minds they will become his devotees.

The love of a girl for the lord

O velvet mites colored like red sinduram powder, and flying everywhere in the groves of Thirumālirunjolai, I am caught in my love for the one with handsome arms who churned the milky ocean with Mandara mountain and took its sweet nectar. It is like a net. Will I survive this sorrow?
O friend, the mullai flowers on the vines in the forest filled with blossoms laugh at me in Thirumālirunjolai where elephants fight with each other and play. The vines that grow in the rainy season bloom as if to say, “You will not survive!” To whom can I tell the pain that his garland gives me?
O beautiful karuvilai flowers! Kāyām flowers! You have the color of the lord Tell me how I can survive. Is it right that strong-armed Nambi of Thirumālirunjolai who is always playing should come into our house and steal my bangles?
O cuckoo birds in the flourishing groves! Peacocks! Beautiful karuvilai blossoms! Fresh kala fruits! Colorful fragrant kāyām flowers! You are my five most powerful enemies. Why must you have the color of the dear lord of beautiful Thirumālirunjolai? Is it to make me sad with love and hurt me?
O swarm of bees, you have the divine color of the dark cloud-colored lord with beautiful eyes who stays in Thirumālirunjolai surrounded with flourishing flowers. O abundant, beautiful mountain springs! O lovely lotus flowers! Tell me, who can be my refuge?
I made a hundred pots of butter for Nambi of Thirumālirunjolai surrounded with fragrant groves. I told him I will fill all the hundred pots with sweet pongal for him. He grows more and more beautiful. Do you think he will come and eat?
If the dear lord of Thirumālirunjolai where a fragrant breeze blows enters my heart and stays there, I will make a hundred thousand pots of butter and sweet pongal and give them to him. If he comes today and eats, I will give him all these pots and serve him.
A flock of black sparrows wakes up in the morning, welcomes Thirumāl and sings the raga maruḷ. Is it true that they sing that raga to wake him up? They sing as if they were repeating the names of him who stays in Thirumālirunjolai, the lord of Dwarapathi who sleeps on a banyan leaf, but he does not come to me.
I seem to hang down like the golden flowers that sway on the branches of kondrai trees in Thirumālirunjolai surrounded by groves where kongu flowers bloom. When will I hear the sound of the conch that he blows with his lotus mouth, and the sound of his Sarngam bow that shoots arrows?
Vishṇuchithan the chief of Villiputhur with a garland swarming with bees composed ten lovely Tamil pāsurams praising the beautiful lord of Thirumālirunjolai where the Silampāṛu river flows bringing sandalwood, akil wood and throwing them up on its banks. If devotees learn and recite these ten lovely pāsurams they will join the feet of Thirumāl.

Flowers blooming in the rainy season

O flowers that bloom in the monsoon, did the dark ocean-colored god send you as warriors to fight with me? Where did he go? To whom can I complain? I cannot fight with my heart that wants his beautiful thulasi garland.
O thondri flowers blooming high, do not grow to the sky and burn me like the brightness of the discus that is in the hand of him, the ancient god praised by the Vedas. Take me to the group of the cowherds where he is.
O kovai vine, you are like my mother! Don’t take my life, ripening with your sweet round fruits that remind me of his dark color. I am afraid of your lovely red color. Pitiful, I say two things that are opposite. I say I will not live without him, yet I am alive without him now and say that I want to be with him. I am shameless like two-tongued Adisesha on whom the lord rests.
O mullai vine, you are like a young girl. Don’t hurt me with your smile as you shine like the discus of the lord. I go to you for refuge—please show me your love. The young lord who cut off Surpanakha’s nose promised he would never be apart from me. If his promise is false, it would be better if I had not been born.
O cuckoo birds, you sing beautifully! What is this song you are singing? Come here and sing only if the lord of the beautiful Venkaṭa hills gives me his love and allows me to survive. If the god with an eagle flag comes, gives his grace and embraces me, he can also listen to your songs.
O flock of peacocks, you have the beautiful color of the dear lord Kaṇṇan and move gracefully as if you had studied long to learn to dance. I bow to your feet. Do you see the sorrow of love that the dear god resting eternally on Adisesha on the ocean has given me?
O lovely peacocks, you dance beautifully spreading your wings. I am pitiful and have no interest in seeing you dance. Govindan, who dances the kudavai kuthu on a pot, has taken all my feelings with him. It is cruel of you to dance happily, reminding me of him and giving me pain.
O cloud, O cloud! The thought that he has not entered my heart makes me suffer. Like wax covered with sand that melts and pours down, my love for him pours out. Won’t you make the beautiful god of Venkaṭa hills enter into my heart and embrace me?
O milky ocean, O milky ocean! Māyavan churned you and took the nectar from you. He entered my heart, made me suffer and took my life away. Will you go to him who rests on the snake bed and tell him how I suffer for his love?
O dear friend, our highest lord is divine but we are small. He is wonderful and he rests on Adisesha, his snake bed. What can we do for him? Yet if Vishṇuchithan, the chief of Villiputhur, summons his generous god by composing beautiful pāsurams, and makes him come, we may be able to see him.

The love of a girl for the lord of Srirangam

O friends adorned with precious jewels, aren’t the bangles that I wear on my hands as precious as the conch that he carries in his hand? Won’t the lord of Srirangam resting on the fiery-faced snake look at me? It is very hard for me, very hard.
O lovely women, the sweet nectar-like lord of Srirangam with his beautiful hair, mouth and eyes and a lovely lotus on his navel with Nānmuhan on it made my bangles loosen and fall. Did he take them so he could wear them?
With his scepter my dear lord of Srirangam rules the world surrounded by roaring oceans and the world of the sky, keeping trouble away from them. Would my bangles that he has made loose help him remove all the troubles of the world and keep it prosperous?
Vamanan, the divine god of Srirangam filled with beautiful palaces and walls, went to Mahābali in ancient times as a sage, made him pour water on his hands, cheated him and took his lands. Wasn’t that enough for him? If he wants my bangles also can’t he come to my street and ask for them?
The lord who rests on the snake bed in Srirangam where good people live went to Mahābali as the cheating Vāmanan and made him give him his land by pouring water on his golden hands and measured all the worlds and the sky. We are poor and have little. It seems he wants to take the little things that we have in our hands.
He is the beloved god of Srirangam where the Kaveri river flows carrying riches from everywhere and nourishing the fields. He is the inner meaning of the four Vedas and cannot be reached by anyone, high or low. He already stole my bangles and now he has stolen my heart.
When he had the form of Rāma, the divine god of Srirangam surrounded by strong walls suffered as he thought of his wife Sita. He didn’t eat or sleep when he was without her and he made a bridge over the ocean to bring her back from Lanka. We are separated from him, but he doesn’t worry about us and thinks only of making himself happy.
He, the bright lord, took the form of an unclean pig in ancient times, split open the ground and rescued the earth goddess when an Asuran hid her in the underworld. Even if I don’t want to think of the promises that the beautiful shining god of Srirangam made to me, I cannot forget them.
When Sisupalan wanted to marry Rukmini, after all the arrangements had made, Kannan fought him, took Rukmini with him and married her. Sriranganathan, the lord of Srirangam, will help me as he helped Rukmani.
Vishṇuchithan composed pāsurams describing the love between Kaṇṇan and the cowherd women. They said, “the lord says, ‘I love those who love me,’ but though we love him he does not love us. He lies to us, but how can we prove it?”
She tells her relatives, “You don’t understand that I love only Mādhavan whom no one can know. If you say you will make me marry someone else you’re just talking like someone who is dumb and deaf. He, the Nambi, left his birth mother and was raised by Yashoda, his other mother. Take me near his Madurai and leave me there before he goes to the battlefield to fight with the wrestlers.”
She says, “You, my relatives, should not be ashamed that I love him. All the neighbors know about our love. Don’t try to make me the person I was before. I have changed, I am in love with Kaṇṇan. If you really want to save me, take me to the cowherd village. I will only survive if I see the Māyan who measured the world as a dwarf.”
She says to her relatives, “When people know that I went with Kaṇṇan and they blame you saying, ‘She left her father, mother and her dear relatives and went away with someone,’ you will be hurt and you won’t be able to avoid the disgrace that comes to you. Kaṇṇan, the naughty son of Nandagopālan, plays with the cowherd girls and does many mischievous things. Take me to the doorstep of Nandagopalan and leave me there at midnight. Māyavan comes to me often and stands before me.”
Her breasts say, “We will not look at the face of others, only of him with a discus in his beautiful hand.” They are covered with a fine sari and become shy if they see common people. They won’t even look at the doorsteps of others, only the house of Govindan. I don’t want to live here. Take me to the banks of the Yamuna river and leave me there.”
She says, “O mothers, no one understand how much the love that I have for him hurts me. It will go away only if the dark ocean-colored god embraces me with his arms. Take me to the pond and leave me on the banks where he climbed the kadamba tree, jumped into the pond and danced on Kālingan as if he were dancing on a battlefield.”
She says, “The cool clouds of the rainy season, the karuviḷai flowers, the kāyām blossoms, and the lotus flowers all attract me and tell me, ‘Go to Rishikeshan’s place. He is sweating, hungry, feels weak and wants food, and he is looking for the wives of the rishis to bring him something to eat.’ Take me to where he waits for food and leave me there.”
She says, “I am growing pallid, my mind is confused and I have no sense of shame. My mouth is becoming pale, I don’t want to eat or sleep and I am growing thin. If the god colored like the roaring ocean puts on me his cool thulasi garland, all these problems will go away. Take me to the banyan tree where Balarāman conquered the Asuran Pilamban and leave me there.”
She says, “He grazed the calves, living among the families of cowherds in the forest, and he was tied to the mortar by Yashoda. O poor mothers, don’t gossip about these things. Take me near Govardhana mountain that he carried as a victorious umbrella to stop the rain and protect the cows. Don’t get together and argue about what you have heard from others, don’t argue with each other.”
She says, “My parrot in its cage always says, ‘Govinda, Govinda!’ If I am angry at it and don’t feed it, it calls him loudly and says, ‘O lord, you have measured the world!’ If I leave home and go to his place, people will blame you and my relatives and you will be ashamed. Take me to Dwarapathi filled with high palaces and leave me there.”
Vishṇuchithan Kodai, the chief of Puduvai filled with shining golden palaces composed a garland of beautiful pāsurams with music how a beloved with long hair tells her relatives her firm decision to join Kaṇṇan and she asks them to take her on a pilgrimage from Madurai to Dwarapathi and leave her with him. If devotees learn and recite these ten pāsurams they will reach Vaikuṇṭam.

The love sickness of a girl

She says, “I love the dark Kaṇṇan and I long to see him and suffer. O mothers, your gossip is like pouring tamarind juice on a wound. The dear lord does not know how this girl suffers. Bring the colorful silk cloth that decorates his waist and use it to fan me and make me cool.”
She says, “I fell into the love-net of the highest lord who rested on the soft banyan leaf as a baby. Don’t gossip uselessly as if you were piercing someone with a spear. He is a cowherd and grazes the cows holding a stick, and he danced on a pot in Kuḍanthai. Bring the cool thulasi garland of the dark-colored Kaṇṇan to decorate my soft curly hair.”

629.She says, “He killed Kamsan with his strong bow. The glances from the corners of his eyes go through my heart like sharp spears and make me weak and hurt, but he doesn’t tell me, “Don’t worry!” O mothers, if that matchless lord gives the garland from his chest and doesn’t cheat me, bring it and spread it on my chest.”

She says, “He is as sweet as nectar, the dark bull who stole butter and milk from the cowherd women has made me weak with love for him and I am heartbroken. Who is there to relieve this sorrow? If you bring the water that springs from his the nectar-like mouth, and feed that to me, the weakness of my body and my love sickness will go away.”
She says, “Even when people weep, and even if they worship him, he does not come before them and say, “Don’t be afraid!” He, the matchless Neḍumāl, came, embraced me, entered my heart, and now seems to follow me everywhere without ever leaving. Sprinkle the water on my face that comes from the holes of his flute as he plays it walking behind his cows in the grove.”
She says, “This world is unfair. Thirumāl, the son of Nandagopan, makes me suffer as if I were crushed beneath the feet of a bull. I can’t even move. Bring the dust from where he has walked, smear it on me, and I will survive."
She says, " Carrying a victorious eagle flag, he rules the world and all obey him. Yashoda raised him but she only made him like an unripe, bitter fruit. If he embraces tightly my faultless breasts with his young strong arms, my faults will go away and I will be happy.”
She says, “I melt in my heart for him who carried Govardhana mountain and I suffer. He doesn’t even care whether I’m alive or not. If I see that mischievous one who stole my heart, I will take my useless breasts and throw them on his chest. Perhaps that will make my fire-like anger cool.”
She says, “If I cannot serve Govindan in this birth, making my breasts happy, what is the use of doing tapas in the future? If he embraces me with his chest it would be good, or if he looks at me and tells me the truth to my face, saying, “I don’t want you, goodbye!” it would also be good. If he doesn’t want me what is the use of waiting without knowing what he wants? Isn’t it better if he tells me the truth?”
The chief of Villiputhur, Vishṇuchithan Kodai, composed pāsurams about how a woman with eyebrows more lovely than bows loved the dear Kaṇṇan, the bright light of the cowherd village, after he gave her pangs of love. If devotees learn these pāsurams and worship him they will not suffer in the ocean of sorrow.

Devotees seeing Kaṇṇan in Brindavan.

“Playing like a young calf, he makes the cows crazy as he goes behind his brother Baladevan. Did you see that dark bull-like one?” “We saw him grazing the cows and giving them water. He loves them and plays with them in Brindavan.”
“Did you see Govardhanan stealing the butter, eating it and smelling of ghee? He left me and went to the cowherd village.” “We saw the dark one adorned with garlands made of forest flowers. He looked like the clouds shining with lightning in Brindavan as he played there.”
“Did you see Nambi Thirumāl when he was born as a child? He bewitched all the young girls, telling unbelievable lies. Did you see him coming here?” “We saw him flying on Garuḍa shielded by its wings from the heat in Brindavan.”
“He attracted me with his dark beautiful lotus eyes, tied me to him with his love, pulled me and played with me. Did you see him?” “We saw him. He was like a baby elephant covered with a cloth decorated with pearls. We saw him sweating and playing in Brindavan.”
“Did you see Madhavan, my lord, my jewel? He is like a pig that has been caught in a net and escaped. Has no one seen him? Doesn’t he want to show himself to anyone?” “We saw him. He was like a dark baby cloud wearing golden clothes as he came on the street in Brindavan.”
“Did you see the naughty one, his beautiful eyebrows bending like his Sarngam bow? He doesn’t have any compassion for the young girls who love him and is always bothering them. He doesn’t know how to get along with others.” “We saw the dark one with a fair face. He looked like the bright sun rising from behind a hill. We saw him in Brindavan.”
“Did you see him, beautiful and dark as a cloud? Is his mind as dark as his body? He makes many promises to girls but doesn’t keep them. Doesn’t he have any compassion?” “We saw him. He was bright as the sky filled with stars when he came with a big crowd in Brindavan.”
“Did you see generous Thirumāl carrying a white conch and a discus and adorned with golden clothes?” “We saw him as his lovely fragrant hair fell on his large arms while he played in Brindavan.”
“He created Nānmuhan on a beautiful lotus growing from his navel so that Nānmuhan could create the whole world. Did you see the faultless lord who created this world and plays in it?” “We saw the lord returning from fighting after killing the Rakshasa Thenugan and the elephant Kuvalayabeeḍam in the forest. We saw him in Brindavan.”
Vishṇuchithan Kodai composed pāsurams about how the people saw the highest lord in Brindavan who gave his grace to Gajendra the elephant and saved him from the crocodile. If devotees keep these pāsurams in their minds as a cure they will live under the divine feet of the lord without leaving him.