04 Perumāl Thirumozhi by Kulasekharazhvar (647 -751)

When will I see my god, the lord of Thiruvarangam

When will the day come when my two eyes see the dark god shining like a komalam jewel, resting on his beautiful white shining bed, the king of snakes with a thousand shining foreheads that remove the darkness with their bright diamonds, as the god’s feet are washed by the clear water of the Ponni river flowing in the Thiruppadi of Srirangam. When will my two eyes see him and feel happy?
When will the day come that I can praise wholeheartedly our god, Māyon, decorated with fragrant garlands and dark as a kāyām flower? He stays in my mind like a pillar and rests on the water in Srirangam on the fiery snake that has a curving body and a thousand heads that spit fire and that looks like a canopy made of fresh flowers. When will I see him?
When will the day come when I can place flowers under his feet and approach him with his devotees as the good Nānmuhan with four faces and eight beautiful eyes praises him with his four tongues? Our dear lord shining like pure gold keeps Nānmuhan on a lovely lotus on his navel while he sleeps on the beautiful snake bed in Srirangam. When will I see him?
When will the day come when I fold my hands and worship the ocean-colored lord, sprinkling pure fresh flowers with my hands for him who split open the beak of the bird? He is strong as a bull among the cowherds, the king of the gods in the sky, and is sweet Tamil and Sanskrit poetry. The lord who carried Govardhana mountain to save the cows rests on a snake bed in Srirangam where sages without attachment praise him with their tongues. When will I see him?
When will the day come when I worship, bowing my head, and see the dear sapphire-colored lord decorated with garlands resting on the snake bed in Srirangam that is rich and filled with palaces and beautiful porches? He is praised by Narada and the rishi Thumburu there , playing sweet matchless music on their yāzhs and Nānmuhan, adorned with beautiful flowers, worships him constantly with the incomparable ancient Vedas. When will I see him?
When will the day come when I worship melting in my heart and see the divine face bright as the moon and the lotus eyes of him resting on the snake bed in beautiful Srirangam surrounded by groves blooming with fragrant flowers? Nānmuhan who stays on a beautiful lotus, Shiva, Indira and all other gods, Apsarases and wise sages join together and sprinkle flowers in all the directions and worship him there. When will I see him?
When will the day come when my eyes, filled with tears, see the dark-colored Māyon resting on the snake bed in beautiful Srirangam on the Kaveri river? He changes the evil hearts of people to good, helps them control their five senses and relieves them of the burden of their troubles and sickness, making them his devotees so they can follow the ways of dharma in their minds. When will I see him?
When will the day come when I who have done bad karma can see and join happily the god resting on the snake bed in Srirangam surrounded by groves and flourishing fields where fish frolic? He protects the world with his long bent bow, conch, sword, his discus that destroys his enemies and his vehicle Garuḍa that flies in the sky. When will I see him?
When will the day come when I worship, jumping and rolling on the ground, and see the dear lord with a discus resting on the snake bed in Srirangam where the beating of beautiful drums is like the sound of the ocean and devotees, joined together in a group and loving the lord in their minds, sing devotional songs, shed tears like rain and praise him happily? When will I see him?
When will the day come when I see the group of happy devotees and join them and am joyful in the divine temple of beautiful Srirangam where Thirumāl rests facing south giving his grace so that the wide sky pours rain, the gods in the heavens are saved, the earth flourishes, the people of the world survive, the sorrow of people disappears, good health increases in the world and his devotees live happily? When will I see him?
Kulasekaran, the king with a strong army who carries a victorious shining sword and sits under a royal umbrella, composed ten Tamil pāsurams praising the lord of Srirangam who rests on the snake bed on Ponni river. If devotees learn these pāsurams well and recite them they will stay under the feet of Nāraṇan who showers goodness to all.

Lord of Southern Thiruvarangam.

If I am able to see and join the happy group of true devotees who call, sing and dance, enthralled, and think only of Rangan of south Srirangam, as sweet as honey, hard to find, decorated with garlands that never wither, with the goddess of wealth seated on his chest, that will be the purpose of this birth.
If I can see and join the devotees who praise him saying, “O Ranga, you embrace Lakshmi, seated on a lotus with blooming buds. You cut down the tall mango tree with your shining sword and you grazed the cows,” and if I can think only of him and call him, dance, sing and worship the dust on his devotees’ feet, why should I desire to bathe in the Ganges?
His devotees sing and praise him, saying, “You conquered the bulls. Taking the form of a boar you split the earth. As Rāma you conquered your enemy Ravaṇan. You came as a dwarf and measured the earth.” When I see your devotees as they make the front yard of Rangan’s temple wet with their tears that are like the flow of abundant water of the rich Ponni river, I will put on my head the good dust that is beneath their divine feet.
My heart praises and worships the divine feet of the devotees who call, worship, melt and praise him, saying, “Nāraṇa, you are our dear god. You were not afraid that Yashoda might punish you when she saw you stealing and eating the butter, good yogurt and milk. You stood there bravely and tapped your arms in front of her.”
He has the color of a dark cloud and carries a heroic bow. He killed seven evil bulls, breaking their horns, and he danced on the snake Kalingan. My mind trembles when I think of the devotees whose bodies shake when they worship Rangan of southern Srirangam surrounded by strong shining stone walls.
In all my births, my heart worships and praises those devotees who love and serve Rangan and wander everywhere to show the faultless good path to sinners who do not have devotion and do not worship the divine feet of Thirumāl, the lord without beginning or end, the wonderful one, the dear god of the gods.
My heart loves and praises the feet of the devotees who love Thirumāl and shed tears, melting in their hearts as they worship him, a bright wonderful light, Rangan of Srirangam, with a red mouth, teeth like pearls, a body dark as a cloud and a chest decorated with Thulasi garlands.
He has lovely flower-like eyes and his divine mountain-like chest wears a fragrant thulasi garland swarming with bees and dripping with honey as he rests on the milky ocean. My heart falls in love with those devotees who are fascinated by him and wander, sing, dance and worship Rangan, our dear lord.
The devotees of Rangan, my lord and father, as they shed tears of joy, tremble, long for him in their hearts worship, dance and sing. They seem mad but they are not. It is those people who do not worship, dance, sing and praise him who are truly mad.
Kulasekharan, the king of Uraiyur, the lord of Kuḍal Nagar and the protector of Kolli hills composed sweet Tamil pāsurams on Rangan, the beloved of Lakshmi. He abides in the minds of his true devotees if they think only of him and serve him as his slaves. If they learn and recite these pāsurams they will become the devotees of his devotees.
All the people of this world think that the false life on this earth is true. I do not want to join them. I call you, “O dear father, Ranga!” and suffer falling in love with you, my Thirumāl.
The people of the world love women with beautiful waists as thin as threads. I do not want to join them. I call you, saying, “O Ranga who sleep on the banyan leaf, my love increases for you, the Thirumāl, and I suffer with love for you.”
The people of this world fall in love when Kāma shoots his mischievous arrows from his beautiful bow. I do not want to join them. My Rangan’s chest is adorned with garlands and he is my good Nāraṇan who rests on Adisesha. He saves his devotees from falling into hell. I am crazy for him.
The people of this world crave food and clothes and search for them. I do not want to join them. See, he drank milk from the breasts of the cruel devil Putanā, and I am crazy for Rangan, the lord of the world.
I do not join with those who do evil things when there are good things to do. I am crazy for the ancient one, the cowherd, Rangan, the beloved husband of innocent Lakshmi seated on a beautiful lotus.
I will not join people if they are not the devotees of the highest. . I do not think the life of any other god in the sky is best. For all my seven births I want to be a crazy devotee of my dear god of the gods of divine Srirangam.
My mind shuns the thought of joining anyone who is not your devotee. I call you, “O Thirumāl with beautiful eyes, you are my Rangan, you are my lord!” and I become crazy for you, my beloved. .
Everyone in the world looks crazy to me. and I am also crazy. I tell this to all and call you, “O cowherd, Ranga!” and I become crazy for you, my dear lord.
The king of Kongu country Kulasekharar thinks only of the feet of him who rests on the ocean, and he composed pāsurams about the devotees who are crazy for the lord. If devotees recite the words of Kulasekaran they will have no troubles in their lives. Lord of Thiruvenkaṭam hills
I do not want this body that is a bundle of flesh. I want to be born as a kurugu bird that lives on the branches of the trees in Thiruvenkaṭam of him with a conch in his left hand who conquered seven strong bulls. I want only to be his slave.
I do not want endless wealth or status, I don’t want to be surrounded by heavenly women or have the joy of ruling the sky and a kingdom on the earth. I want to be born as a fish in a spring in Thiruvenkaṭam filled with groves flourishing with flowers that drip honey.
He carries a shining round discus. Shiva with matted hair, Nanmuhan and Indra could not enter the divine entrance of Vaikuṇṭam even when they approached it, but I will enter holding the golden plate that the king of Thiruvenkaṭam ate from.
Māyon rests on the cool milky ocean where fertile coral-creepers float. I would have the good fortune of blooming as a shenbaga flower in Thiruvenkaṭam hills where a swarm of bees sings and praises him. I will see the feet of Māyon, decorated with anklets, as he stays in the Thiruvenkaṭam hills.
I do not want to sit on the neck of a rutting elephant that frightens everyone and know the joy of riding it. I want to have the good fortune of standing as a pole in the beautiful Venkaṭam hills of our beloved lord.
I do not want to enjoy the dance and songs of heavenly women like Urvasi and Menaka with waists as thin as lightning. I want to have the good fortune of being a golden peak in the Thiruvenkaṭam hills where bees swarm and sing “tenna, tenna.”
I do not want the luxury of sitting under a white royal umbrella bright as the moon that rules the sky. I want to be a forest river that flows from the Thiruvenkaṭam hills surrounded with groves blooming with flowers that drip honey.
I want to be a path on the Thiruvenkaṭam hills surrounded by cool fragrant groves, where he stays who is the meaning of the Vedas and who helped Nanmuhan, Indra and Shiva with the crescent moon in his matted hair when they performed sacrifices.
O, Thirumāl, you take away the bad karma of all. You are the highest ! You stay in the Thiruvenkaṭam hills. Devotees, the gods in the sky and Apsarases stand at the entrance of your temple to see you. I will become a step at the threshold of your temple and I will see your coral mouth.
Even if I were to become the king of the world of the gods, rule it beneath a sole umbrella and enjoy the waist of Urvasi, decorated with beautiful golden ornaments, I would not want it. I want to become anything on the golden hills of Thiruvenkaṭam of my lord. .
Kulasekharan with a sharp spear that kills his enemies worshiped the lord of Thiruvenkaṭam hills with cool and lovely slopes and, wishing to see his golden shining feet, composed pāsurams praising him. If Tamil scholars learn well these pāsurams of Kulasekaran they will become his good devotees.

Lord of Vitruvakkoṭṭam.

You are the beloved lord of Vitruvakkoṭṭam surrounded with fragrant blooming groves. Do not give me troubles— I have no refuge but you. I am like a crying child thinking of the love of the mother who gave birth to it even if she goes away when she is angry.
A girl of a good family knows no one except the husband who married her even if he treats her so badly that those who see hate him. I am like her. You are my father, the lord of Vitruvakkoṭṭam surrounded by forts that touch the sky. Even if you are like a husband and possess me, I will praise only your feet decorated with sounding anklets.
You are my father, the god of Vitruvakkoṭṭam surrounded by fertile fields where fish swim. Even if you do not look at me, I have no refuge except you. I am like those who live depending on the rule of a king decorated with garlands even if, unconcerned, he causes them much pain.
O my father, lord of Vitruvakkoṭṭam, a patient loves and does not leave a doctor even when he cuts him with a knife and burns him. I am like that patient. Even if you cause me pain that I must bear, I am enthralled by you. I am your slave and look only for your grace and think you are my only friend.
O my father, lord of Vitruvakkottam who conquered the strong cruel-eyed elephant, where can I go and be saved except beneath your feet? I am like a huge bird that wanders looking for the shore of the ocean with rolling waves and, unable to find it, comes back to the mast of a ship.
You are my father, the lord of Vitruvakkoṭṭam, where red lotuses bloom only under the hot sun even though the sun comes to the middle of the sky and burns them with its heat. I am like those lotuses. Even if you do not take away my bad karma, my heart only melts for your endless grace.
O my father, lord of Vitruvakkoṭṭam, even when it has not rained for a long time, the green crops look at the huge dark clouds floating in the sky hoping it will rain. I am like them. I am your slave. Even if my troubles will not go away, my heart will look only for you.
O my father, lord of Vitruvakkoṭṭam, even if all the rivers come together spread and flood everywhere, they cannot stay where they are but must join the ocean. I wish to join you as those rivers join the ocean. O virtuous one who have the color of a dark shining cloud. See, I have no way to find refuge except to come to you for your grace.
O my father, lord of Vitruvakkoṭṭam, I want only you with a shining discus bright as lightning in your hand. I think of you only as my wealth and want no other riches. I am your slave and I want only you.

697 Kulasekharan with a victorious spear loved the god and composed ten good Tamil pāsurams praising Thirumāl and saying, “You are my father, the lord of Vitruvakkoṭṭam. Even if you do not give me your grace I have no other refuge than your feet.” If devotees learn and recite these ten excellent Tamil pāsurams of Kulasekharan they will not go to hell.

Kaṇṇan and the cowherd girls.

“Many of the cowherd women in this town decorated with fresh flowers say they don’t want to embrace your chest because you lied to them. I am standing on a sand dune on the bank of the Yamuna river shaking in the cold that comes after a strong rain. O Vasudeva, I am waiting for you to come.”
“You saw a lovely girl with beautiful fish-like eyes churning yogurt in her home near you and you entered her house like a thief and said, ‘I will also churn yogurt.’ When the girl with long beautiful hair that was decorated with flowers swarming with bees saw you, her bright face sweated and her red mouth quivered. O Damodara, I know truly how you churn the yogurt!”
“You looked at one girl with dark hair adorned with flowers, you approached another girl and your heart fell for her, you told another girl about her, you told lies to another innocent girl, and you embraced a curly-haired young girl, but you are not true to any of them. O you who destroyed the wrestlers when they came as marudu trees, as you grow, your magic grows with you.”
“Even though there is nectar-like milk in your mother’s breast, you crawled and toddled to the devil Putanā, put your mouth to her breasts and drank her poisonous milk. Those who saw you called you crazy. I am here and I love you, but you got together with the girl I sent as a messenger and enjoyed her. Is that also one of your naughty deeds?”
“I saw you wearing golden silk clothes as you went on the street in the dark night with another girl with a thin lightning-like waist. I stood there and saw how you looked at her as she looked at you, but you were also gesturing with your hands to call another girl who saw you. Why have you left them all and returned? Dear one, go back to them now.”
“O Vasudeva with strong heroic arms, did I do something to get bad karma? When I went to rest in the middle of the night, you left me on the bed alone, and not only that night, my dear one, but other nights also. And after you embraced young girls, you came back to me. Why did you come back and leave them? O dear one, get up and go to them.”
“O you who rest on the snake bed of Adishesha, we are not like the ones you knew before, not like those you loved with beautiful eyes darkened with kohl. Stop coming to our village and staying here. It is enough that we fell for you, looking at your beautiful clothes, divine face, fruit-like red lips and listening to the music of your flute. If we hear your lies for one day, that is enough. Stop saying your cheating words to attract us. O young one, please go away.”
“You asked me to come here but you went to the pandal blooming with clusters of jasmine and loved her. When you saw me, you muttered as if your heart was melting for me. Even though you brought a golden dress for me and lied that you love me before you went away, when you come to see me again I will still care for you, and if I see you my anger may go away.”
“Your chest is decorated with lovely, auspicious flower garlands and you wear peacock feathers in your hair. Your bright clothes are beautiful and your ears are adorned with a bunch of flowers. You played sweet music on the flute for the girls, with hair adorned with fragrant kongu flowers and flirted with them. Would you come and play music on your flute one day to enthrall us”
Kulasekharan, the chief of Kolli hills composed ten sweet Tamil pāsurams describing how the young cowherd girls fell in love with the beloved of beautiful goddess Lakshmi and how they expressed their wish to fight with him lovingly in the night. If devotees recite with music these ten sweet Tamil pāsurams of Kulasekaran, they will have no troubles in life.

Devaki’s Lullaby to Krishna.

“You are as sweet as the sugarcane juice that comes from a sugarcane press, thālo. Your big eyes are lovely as lotuses in the water, thālo. Your color is like the water of the ocean, thālo. You are the king who killed the elephant Kuvalayābeeḍam, thālo. You are my son with handsome fragrant hair, thālo. I am more unlucky than all other mothers because I don’t have the good fortune of singing a lullaby and saying “thālo, thālo” for you.”
“Your lotus eyes darkened with kohl are beautiful as you look up and see the decorations on the cradle. You look like a baby cloud. As you bend your legs and put your fingers in your mouth, you look like an elephant bending its trunk and sleeping. O Kesava, I don’t have the good fortune of seeing these things when you are a baby.”
“Mothers from good families keep their children on their laps and say, ‘You are my dear one, you are the bright light of our family, you are like a bull that has the color of a cloud.’ When someone asked you, ‘Who is your father?’ you looked at Nandagopan out of the corner of your eyes and pointed at him with your beautiful fingers. Vasudevan, our chief, does not have the good fortune of being your father.”
“O Kaṇṇa, your face is like the shining full moon, your hands, chest and arms are strong, your dark hair is adorned with fresh flowers, your forehead is like the crescent moon and your eyes are like lotuses blooming in a pond. I do not have the fortune of seeing you with my eyes when you are a baby even though I think of myself as your mother. I am unlucky and I don’t have the pleasure of raising my child, yet still I am alive.”
“You kissed your father Nandagopan and your mother Yashoda with your beautiful lips as the chuṭṭi ornament on your beautiful forehead swung around. You put your sweet fingers into your lovely mouth and prattled innocently. When your father saw you like that his heart was filled with joy, but I did not have the good fortune of seeing those things or listening to your baby talk. Only the divine Yashoda has known that joy.”
“O Kaṇṇa with cool lotus eyes, you crawled and toddled in the cowherd village and you played in the red sand. I don’t have the good fortune of embracing you and covering my chest with the red sand you played in. When you eat your food you scatter it all over. I never had the good fortune of eating what was left over on your plate. Surely, my karma is bad. What is the use of my mother gave birth to me?”
“O sweet one, my lovely child, Govinda, babies hold on to one of their mothers’ breasts with their young beautiful hands that are as tender as shoots and drink milk. They look at their mother’s face and smile at them. I don’t have the fortune of feeding you milk like that.”
“You took butter with your small lotus-bud-like hands and ate it. When Yashoda brought a rope you were afraid she was going to hit you and, your beautiful mouth smeared with yogurt, you were scared as you looked at her and cried and your small red mouth trembled. Then you folded your hands and worshipped her and when she saw this, she found endless joy.”
“You stopped the rain with Govardhana mountain and protected the cows. You danced the beautiful kuravai dance and danced on a pot. You picked up the Rakshasas when they came as calves, threw them at the vilam fruit tree and killed them. You danced on the head of Kalingan the snake. I never saw how you played like this as a child— my heart never felt the joy of seeing these things. Give me your grace that I may see you play like that if you can do it again.”
“When you drank milk from the breasts of Putanā, the evil-hearted one, her body became withered, blood flowed out and her nerves were broken. You survived even though you drank her poisonous milk and gave your grace to all. O my father who are like a dark cloud, who took the life of Kamsan, my breasts are a burden to me and I cannot use them. I think I will see you one day and that is the only thing I am living for. You have a good mother, Yashoda.”
Kulasekharan the king of Kolli who bowed down with his head and worshiped Kaṇṇan wrote a garland of ten Tamil pāsurams describing how Devaki was sad not to have the fortune of seeing her son grow up who fought with Kamsan the king of Madura and killed him. If devotees learn and recite these fine musical Tamil pāsurams they will be with Naraṇan soon.

A Lullaby for Rama.

You, the sweet nectar who were born from the beautiful womb of Kausalai praised by the whole world, made the crown of the king of Lanka fall. You are the dark jewel of Kaṇṇapuram surrounded by new walls studded with pure gold. O Raghava, thālelo. thālelo.
You created Nanmuhan on your navel and make him create all the worlds. You shot the arrow that split open the chest of strong Thaḍagai and killed her and as the dark jewel of Kaṇṇapuram, you attract the hearts of all who see you. You are rule the lands in all the eight directions, O Raghava, thālelo. thālelo.
You are the best son of the lineage of Kosalai with dark hair adorned with kongu blossoms. You are the beautiful son-in-law of the king Janakan whose fame remains forever. You are the son of Dasharatha, the dark jewel of Kaṇṇapuram where pure water flows like the Ganges. You are the sweet nectar of our family, O Raghava, thālelo, thālelo.
You who created Nānmuhan on the lotus on your navel, the wonderful son of Dasharathan, the husband of Mythili are the dark jewel of Thirukkaṇṇapuram where bees sing in the groves. You carry the best of bows that shoots heroic arrows. O Raghava, thālelo, thālelo.
After giving your kingdom to your brother Bharathan, you went to the thick forest with your younger brother Lakshmana who loved you so. You with a handsome chest strong as a mountain, king of Thirukkannapuram, are adorned with a precious crown that rules the world. You are the son of Dasharatha, thālelo.
You, the dark jewel of Kaṇṇapuram where learned men live, the king of Ayodhya and the wonderful helper of the sages, left the desires of worldly life and went to the terrible forest, obeying the words of your step-mother, as all your relatives followed you. O auspicious Rāma, thālelo, thālelo.
You floated on a banyan leaf when you were a baby, . swallowed the earth, killed Vali and gave the kingdom to his younger brother Sugrivan. You are the dark jewel of Kaṇṇapuram where the wind makes the waves bring jewels to the banks of the rivers. You are the king of Thiruvāli. You are the king of Ayodhya, thālelo.
You made the monkeys build a dam on the ocean and destroyed Lanka surrounded by walls, and you churned the wavy milky ocean and gave nectar to the gods. You the best of archers, the servant of your devotees, are the dark jewel of Kaṇṇapuram where the best poets and artists live. O Srirāma, thālelo, thālelo.
You, the son of Dasharatha with hair tied with fragrant flowers, bent your bow and destroyed Lanka surrounded by walls. You are the dark jewel of Kaṇṇapuram where beautiful kazuneer flowers bloom on all sides and you are compassionate and give your grace to young ones, thālelo, thālelo.
You who rest on Adisesha on the ocean in Srirangam where all come and worship your feet created the gods, the Asurans and all the directions. You are the dark jewel of Kaṇṇapuram where the fertile Kaveri river flows and you are the best of archers, shooting mighty arrows with your bow. O Raghava, thālelo.
Kulasekharan the mighty king who sits under a royal umbrella and carries a murderous spear composed these ten pāsurams, a garland of Tamil lullabies describing the lord of the Kakutstha dynasty, the god of Kaṇṇapuram surrounded by good strong new walls. If devotees learn and recite these ten pāsurams they will become dear to him.

The story of Rāma—Dasharatha suffers when Rama goes to forest.

Dasaratha says, “You were going to become king as the people of this flourishing country bowed to your strong feet and worshipped you. When you were about to sit on the throne, O Rāma, your step-mother said, ‘Go and stay for a long time in the large forest.’ I listened to the words of Kaikeyi, your mother, and asked you to go to the forest. O my dear son, that is what I did to you!”
Dasaratha says, “You listened to my cruel words and left quickly, leaving this kingdom with its victorious elephants, chariots and horses and went to the forest. Your lovely wife, decorated with ornaments, her long eyes like spears smeared with oil, and your younger brother Lakshmana followed you. How could you walk in that cruel forest? O our Rāma! You are my dear lord. What can I do?”
Dasaratha says, “You, with your mountain-like arms that can fight anyone, the son of the family of Kosalai whose long red-lined eyes are like murderous spears, know how to melt my heart. Before you slept on a soft bed in the palace— how are you going to sleep under the shadow of a tree in the large forest? How could you learn to sleep on a stone bed, O dark king of the dynasty of Kahustha?”
Dasaratha says, “Come here and go back to the forest, come and see me one more time before you go. O you who broke the bow of Shiva who rides the bull to marry your wife Sita with lovely hair decorated with flowers and beautiful bamboo-like arms. Now you are going to the wide forest and you make my heart suffer. Surely I must have done bad karma. My son, you are leaving, yet my heart does not split in two."
Dasaratha says, “Your soft feet will hurt when you walk on the gravel with stones as sharp as the points of the spears enemies hold, and they may bleed. Willingly you are going to the forest where no one wishes to go. The sun will be hot and hunger will cause you cruel pain. My son, you are going now because I, a sinner, listened to the evil daughter of king Kaikeyan. Surely I must have done bad karma. What can I do to stop you?”
Dasaratha says, “From now on I will not hear anyone lovingly calling me “amma.” No more will I feel the tight embrace of his ornamented chest on my chest. I cannot kiss him on his forehead, I will not be able to see his majestic walk that is like the stride of an elephant, I will not be able to see his lotus face anymore. I have lost my dear one, my son. Surely I have done terrible deeds, yet I am still alive.”
Dasaratha says, “His hair that was decorated with fragrant flowers is matted into jaṭa now. He would wear lovely, soft garments on his waist but now he wears orange clothes like a renunciant and he does not wear any ornaments. Is it right that my son with such handsome arms should go to the forest instead of me? O, Sumanthra, O sage Vashisṭa, you are learned men of the Vedas. Tell me!”
Dasaratha says, “O Kaikeyi, you have sent to the forest my divine son, as precious as gold, his brother Lakshmaṇa and my gentle-natured daughter-in-law with a waist as thin as lightning and words as sweet as a puvai bird’s. People will blame your own son Bharatha for what you have done and you are going to make me go to heaven in the sky. What are you going to get from all this? O Kaikeyi, how could you live happily in this large world?”
Dasaratha says, “You broke the bow of axe-carrying Parasurāma and destroyed his tapas. Without thinking how I will suffer and without thinking how your mother will suffer, you just listened to my words and my promise to your step-mother and left for the forest. You are my dear one. I wish that you could be born as my son for the next seven births. May I have that fortune, O king with long, strong arms.”
Dasaratha says, “I heard the cruel words of the evil Kaikeyi who followed the advice of Kuni and now I will leave Sumithra to suffer and Kosalai with hair filled with flowers that drip honey. You are going to the forest, leaving this rich palace happily, and I will leave this place and go to the gods’ world happily, O king of the dynasty of Manu.”
Dasharatha, adorned with garlands, his arms strong as mountains, suffered when his son, the beautiful dark Neḍumāl, went to the forest. Kulasekharan, the king of Kozhiyur who carries a sharp spear and rules under a royal umbrella composed ten Tamil pāsurams that describe the suffering of Dasharatha. If devotees learn these Tamil pāsurams they will avoid the bad paths of life.

God Rama of Thillai Chitrakuḍam.

Rāma, tall, with beautiful eyes, colored like a dark cloud, our dear king, our lord, the light that illuminates the whole world, stays in beautiful Ayodhya surrounded by high walls. Born in the dynasty of the sun, he brightens that royal line, and he conquered the whole sky and is the god of Thiruchithrakuḍam in Thillai. When will the day come when I see him joyfully with my eyes?

The Story of Rāma.

He saved the sacrifice of the rishi Vishwamithra, learned in all the mantras and the Vedas shot a strong arrow and split open the chest of Thaḍagai when she came to fight him, making her blood flow out, and he killed all the strong Rakshasas. See, our dear god stays in the Thiruchithrakuḍam in Thillai, surrounded with cool flourishing groves blooming with flowers with green tender leaves, as he sits on a throne studded with diamonds, praised by three thousand Andaṇars.
To marry Sita whose long dark lovely eyes were lined with red, the heroic Rāma who conquered kings with sharp spears, broke the bow of Shiva, the angry bull rider carrying a mazhu weapon. He stays in divine Chithrakuḍam in Thillai surrounded by tall walls. I worship the feet of the worshipers of Rāma whose cruel bow conquers his mighty enemies.
As Rāma he left his kingdom, obeying the words of Kaikeyi whose curly hair was decorated with bunches of fresh flowers, went to the forest, crossed the Ganges with the help of Guhan, his dear devotee, and gave his sandals and his kingdom to Bharathan when his brother came to see him. He stays in beautiful Chithrakuḍam in Thillai. If devotees see him happily with their two eyes, they will be equal to the gods in the sky.
As Rāma he killed the Rakshasa Virāḍan with strong mountain-like arms, received a bow from the sage Agasthya, creator of rich Tamil, cut off the nose of the beautiful Rakshasi Surpanakha, took the lives of Karan and Dushanan, and bent his bow and shot arrows to kill the Raksasa Mārisan when he came as a golden deer. He stays in Chithrakuḍam in Thillai and this earth is fortunate that his devotees wander there bowing their heads and worshiping him.
As Rāma he was separated from Vaidehi, his lovely wife. He was sad when Jaṭāyu was killed by Ravanan and sent to Vaikuṇṭam, he became friends with the king of monkeys’ Sugrivan and he killed Vali in the Kishkinda forest, relieving the suffering of Sugrivan. He made Hanuman burn Lanka ruled by Ravaṇan, the king of the Rakshasas, so that Hanuman’s anger would abate. I worship the feet of the devotees of Rāma, the dear god who stays happily in Thiruchithrakuḍam in Thillai.
As Rāma he shot his arrows to calm the stormy ocean, made a bridge with the help of the monkeys and reached Lanka on the other side of the sea. He killed the Rakshasas who carried strong long spears, took the life of Ravaṇa the king of Lanka and gave the kingdom to Ravaṇa’s brother Vibhishaṇa, and returning to Ayodhya with his wife as lovely as Lakshmi, he was seated on his throne. I will not consider anyone my king except Rāma the god of Thiruchithrakuḍam in Thillai.
Rāma who reached Ayodhya filled with gold and beautiful diamond-studded palaces, heard his own story from the mouths, red as coral, of his two sons born to Sita, the princess of Mithila, to save the world. If we hear and drink in the story of Rāma of Thiruchithrakudam in Thillai we have no need of sweet nectar.
Rāma is adorned with a jewel-studded ornament given by an Andanan who knew the Vedas because he saved his son. His brother Laksmaṇa killed the Rakshasa Ilavaṇan and Rāma granted him moksha. He was separated from his brother Laksmaṇa by the curse of the sage Durvasa. If our hearts never forget the lord of Thiruchithrakuḍam in Thillai, we will not have any trouble in our lives.
When the dear lord adorned with garlands returned from the forest, the gods in the sky welcomed him. By the grace of him who fought with the strong Asuras and conquered them all people and creatures in the world go to Vaikuṇṭam. He stays always in Thiruchithrakuḍam in Thillai. O devotees of Rāma, praise him saying, “avan ivan!” and worship him always.
Kulasekharan, the king of Uṛaiyur, who rules under a royal umbrella and carries a victorious shining sword composed a garland of ten Tamil pāsurams describing the endless fame of Rāma, the son of Dasharatha and the friend of Hanumān. If devotees know and recite these ten sweet Tamil pāsurams they will approach the feet of Nāraṇan who shines with goodness.