Brahma's Hymn of Praise and Prayer

Brahma's Hymn of Praise and Prayer

“O praiseworthy Sri Krsnacandra, I bow to You. You alone are worthy of worship in the universe, my Lord, and I offer You my homage. Ah, obeisance to the Lord whose limbs possess the dark luster of a fresh raincloud. Salutations to Him whose yellow garment resembles steady lightning. I bow to Him whose face is beautified by earrings of gunja berries and a peacock feather in His crest. I worship the forest-garlanded Lord, who wears a garland fashioned from woodland leaves and flowers. Obeisance to Him whose incomparable beauty is marked by a morsel of yogurt-rice in His tiny palm, a staff and horn beneath His arm, and a flute tucked into His waistband. Salutations to the Lord of small and tender lotus feet. Endless homage to the son of Vrajendra. I surrender everything to this sweetest attire of darling Gopala. I ask nothing else, Lord. Only that I may attain You eternally and receive the unbroken shelter of Your cooling, peaceful lotus feet, I offer You countless obeisances, Sri Krsnacandra!” Thus Grandfather Brahma begins his hymn:

“O praiseworthy Lord, I bow to You, whose body resembles a raincloud and whose garment is like lightning, whose face shines with gunja earrings and a peacock feather, who wears a forest garland, whose beauty is marked by a morsel, staff, horn, and flute, whose feet are tender, and who are the son of the cowherd king.” (Srimad-Bhagavatam 10.14.1)

O praiseworthy One, Your dark body is like a fresh raincloud, and Your lovely yellow garment resembles lightning. The beauty of a peacock feather crowns Your brow, Your eyes are large, and a forest garland rests upon Your lovely chest. Gunja earrings are a treasury of rasa, and You bear a morsel, horn, staff, and excellent flute. Your feet are tender, O wanderer in Vrnda's forest. Again and again I bow to the prince of Vraja. ...

Today the creator has found everything together in one place. The covering upon knowledge has disappeared forever, and he sees all things exactly as they are. The experience of his heart itself becomes speech, and every realization pours outward in the words of praise. Many times before, at the beginning of age after age, when Vedic knowledge expanded, this supreme true principle issued from his own mouth:

“As water falling from the sky flows toward the ocean, every obeisance offered to all the gods goes to Kesava.”

“Wherever a raincloud's water falls from the sky, it flows toward the ocean. In the same way, homage offered to all the gods becomes centered upon Sri Krsnacandra's charming lotus feet.”

Yet Brahma feels as though he has understood this truth for the first time today: Sri Krsnacandra alone is worshiped in infinite forms by infinite devotees according to their respective moods. Everyone truly worships Him, and He is the original form of all. Thus delighted, Brahma addresses Sri Krsnacandra as “praiseworthy” and surrenders himself at those feet where all praise reaches its consummation. Again the fresh-raincloud radiance of Sri Krsnacandra's limbs fills his eyes. He thinks, “A new raincloud does not distinguish between high and low, impure and pure, but rains equally everywhere and relieves the summer heat. Likewise this cloud of Sri Krsna does not distinguish between luminous and darkened dispositions. The sweet current of His pastime nectar and compassion rains equally upon all. The motherly destination bestowed upon the child-killer Putana and the end of cruel Aghasura's worldly wandering both reveal that impartial shower of grace. Where and to whom was such unsolicited mercy given before in the forms of Matsya, Kurma, and others? It seems to belong uniquely to this raincloud-dark form. Yes, this is it! Lord, this fresh-cloud-dark form of Yours is my whole essence and treasure. May every particle of me be drenched in its incomparable dark beauty.” This feeling within Grandfather Brahma emerges outward as the words, “Obeisance to the Lord whose limbs possess the dark luster of a fresh raincloud!”

The yellow garment now attracts the lotus-born creator's mind. His gaze, rising and sinking in the current of smooth dark light from the Lord's limbs, catches upon the edge of that yellow cloth, and a new feeling arises: “Ah! Just as lightning always dwells within a fresh raincloud, lightning in the form of a yellow garment dwells within this cloud of Krsna. The only difference is that lightning in a material cloud is constantly restless, whereas the lightning of this Krsna-cloud is steady and peaceful.” Grandfather Brahma further feels that a message pours from the lotus-petal eyes of Vrajendra's son: “Do you see? Even something as restless as lightning becomes still by contact with Me. In the same way, if one offers Me an exceedingly restless mind, I make it motionless and keep it with Me forever: ‘Absorbed in the rain-laden, dark-cloud complexion, the mind no longer wanders elsewhere.’ Let someone offer it and see!” Brahma is carried upon the waves of this feeling, and his voice cries, “Salutations to Him whose yellow garment resembles steady lightning.”

This awakens related impressions, and the lotus-born Brahma remembers Lord Narayana, ruler of Vaikuntha. He thinks, “He too has the complexion of a fresh blue raincloud and wears yellow cloth. In this much they are alike. But His ornaments differ completely from those of the cowherd king's son before me. Narayana wears a jeweled crown and earrings, armlets, jeweled bracelets, bangles, anklets, cuffs, belt, rings, and other ornaments. It is as though no ordinary object can find a place there and only the finest jewels are accepted to adorn His sacred limbs. But all glory to this prince of Vraja! He wears earrings of the common gunja berry. A simple peacock feather forms His headdress, and a garland of leaves and flowers gathered from the forest adorns His chest. If a lowly, destitute, possessionless being like me can find refuge anywhere, it must be near the feet of this prince of Vraja. Where shall I obtain the brilliant divine disposition needed for shelter at Sri Narayana's feet? Why would the Lord of Vaikuntha, eternally surrounded by supreme splendor, accept me? Only the peacock-feathered wanderer of Vraja can grant me shelter.” Filled with this feeling, the creator says, “I worship Him whose face is adorned with gunja earrings and a peacock feather, the Lord who wears a forest garland.”

Before Brahma, the boundless ocean of sweetness belonging to this forest-garlanded Lord of Vraja's pastimes begins to surge. Never in any earlier avatara had there appeared such unrestricted bestowal of pure loving rasa upon His associates, such unobstructed swimming in the ocean of pastimes with countless companions, such equal distribution of His intrinsic bliss through His flute, or such flooding of the universe with waves of beauty. He smells the calves' heads, kisses their faces, gathers soft green grass with His lotus hands to feed them, brings water in His joined palms, wrings His wet yellow garment into their mouths to quench their thirst, and fully honors every preference of countless cowherd boys. Such loving conduct toward associates was never manifest before. Nor had there been such a revelation of pastime sweetness with countless companions. The unprecedented action of raining supremely divine rasa from the flute and enchanting moving and unmoving beings appears for the first time. Gods, demons, humans, Nagas, animals, and birds become captivated by the nectar of His form, and even Vrajendra's son becomes enchanted by His own intoxicating beauty.

From the sky, Brahma had obtained a single drop of this limitless ocean when he saw the prince of Vraja, wonderfully dressed, eating with His friends on the riverbank. Unable to restrain his desire to bathe in that ocean and taste one particle more, he stole the calves. His loving feelings had been suppressed beneath awareness of his offense, but now eyes, mind, and intelligence sink into the river and ocean of beauty flowing from the lotus feet of the forest-garlanded Lord, whose fresh-cloud-dark limbs shine with gunja earrings and a peacock feather. Awareness of offense is swept away. Brahma's four faces again behold the Lord's novel adornment, with yogurt-rice, staff, horn, and flute arranged in their places. His heart throbs with love and longing: “May this sweetness-filled form remain the support of my life forever, and may Sri Krsnacandra grant me refuge at His feet in this form.” That desire rings outward: “Obeisance to Him of incomparable beauty, marked by yogurt-rice in His palm, staff and horn beneath His arm, and flute in His waistband.”

Sri Krsnacandra's absorption in childhood play churns Brahma's mind. By an inconceivable inspiration, all the pastimes from Vrajendra's son's birth until now arise in the creator's consciousness. He reflects that the Lord's affection for devotees has never appeared in any other form as fully as in this child form. To fulfill the cowherds' affectionate desires, Vrajendra's son performed many enchanting pastimes. Only as this child did He enter the women's homes and steal butter according to each one's preference. As this child the Supreme Person accepted Mother Yasoda's binding. Only this Lord, bound by rope and intoxicated with childhood rasa, bestowed unsolicited, incomparable mercy upon the twin arjuna trees. Ah, if by inconceivable fortune child Gopala granted Brahma shelter at His feet and gave him, like the cowherds, the right to tend Krsna's feet and place those blessed tender feet upon his chest, his life's sole longing would be fulfilled. Sri Krsnacandra had granted rare visions of His feet before, but never had those feet been so easily served as they are today.

What more can be said? At that time Brahma lacked even the courage to approach those feet, for his life trembled with fear. The memory of Sri Krsnacandra's Nrsimha form still sends fear through him. Celestial aircraft struck the mane upon His neck and were thrown into confusion. Heaven staggered, the earth shook beneath His tread, mountains flew through the force of His speed, and His radiance dazzled so fiercely that sky and directions disappeared:

“The sky became crowded with aircraft tossed by His mane, the earth heaved beneath the pressure of His feet, mountains flew up through His force, and the heavens and directions ceased to shine before His splendor.” (Srimad-Bhagavatam 7.8.33)

No one dared approach and offer service:

“No one could worship that fierce-faced Lord.” (Srimad-Bhagavatam 7.8.34)

Brahma worshiped Him only from afar:

“I bow to the Infinite One of unfathomable power, wondrous prowess, and purifying deeds, the imperishable Self who through the modes playfully brings about the universe's creation, maintenance, and dissolution.” (Srimad-Bhagavatam 7.8.40)

“Lord, You are infinite, and I bow to You. Your power has no limit, Your prowess is wondrous, and Your deeds are pure. Through the modes and by Your pastime, You create, sustain, and dissolve the universe, yet remain changeless. Obeisance to You, Lord!”

Brahma had offered only obeisance and returned. Later, in the Vamana form, the Lord gave him an opportunity to touch His foot. To claim the three steps of land promised by Bali, the Lord expanded His stride. Vamanadeva's foot rose beyond Maharloka, Janaloka, and Tapoloka and entered Brahma's abode, Satyaloka. The moonlike radiance of His toenail eclipsed Satyaloka's brilliance and immersed Brahma in light. He ran to welcome it and washed the Lord's great toe:

“The foot of Urukrama rose higher and higher, passing beyond Maharloka, Janaloka, and Tapoloka.” (Srimad-Bhagavatam 8.20.34)

“Seeing it reach Satyaloka, lotus-born Brahma approached, enveloped by the toenails' moonlight, which overwhelmed the splendor of his abode.” (Srimad-Bhagavatam 8.21.1)

“Then lotus-born Brahma offered worshiping water to Visnu's uplifted foot.” (Srimad-Bhagavatam 8.21.3)

Even then the Lord's feet were not easy for Brahma to serve. Today, by indescribable fortune, the devotee-affectionate Lord's feet as child Gopala stand before him in a form he can freely place upon his heart and fulfill his ancient longing. In this pastime, the earth of Brhad-vana and Vrnda's forest, and the trees, shrubs, and vines upon her breast, have touched the uncovered feet of the childlike Lord. Even insects, moths, and bees have flown about and received their enchanting fragrance, intoxicated by the joy of touch. Surely the Lord will not deprive Brahma this time.

Yet convention restrains him. How can he address as a child the Lord who is his father and source from the navel lotus, his teacher whose mantra he worships, and his master under whose direction he creates the universe? How can he first call his father, guru, and master a child and then pray for refuge at His feet? How could conduct contrary to propriety be forgiven? Yet he cannot abandon his longing to taste child Gopala's pastime sweetness. “What shall I do? How shall I speak to the Lord?” In less than a moment, Grandfather Brahma thinks all this and becomes agitated.

Sri Krsnacandra's mercy potency preserves the creator's feeling while arranging words suited to childhood, and from Brahma's four mouths comes, “Obeisance to the Lord of small, tender lotus feet!” Yet there is a method for attaining refuge at Sri Krsnacandra's feet. Brahma knows that only Vrajesvari and Vrajaraja possess the art of catching this royal swan of Krsna, who flies through the open sky of infinite majesty, in the net of parental love and holding Him in their laps. By spreading that net they made child Krsna their treasure. Only through their grace can Brahma obtain His tender feet and the right to serve them.

He wonders how to receive the sacred blessing and merciful glance of Vraja's queen and king. If he approaches in a divine body, they may become hesitant or anxious for their dark child, creating another offense. He therefore remembers Vrajesvara and invokes his eternal relation with child Gopala, trusting that the Lord will melt upon hearing His father's name. “O child Gopala bound within Vrajesvara's net of parental love! Only in this pastime has Your attire enchanted the foremost yogis and sages. Your sacred deeds in countless forms purified the world I created, but only now has Your sweetness churned my heart and bewildered me. My life longs for the cooling shade of Your lotus feet. O moon of Vrajendra's lineage, grant me eternal shelter beneath these small feet fondled by the cowherd men and women.” The creator's feeling condenses into the words, “Endless obeisance to the son of the cowherd king.”

Carried upon waves of feeling, Brahma submits his desire at Sri Krsnacandra's lotus feet. A gentle smile touches the prince of Vraja's reddish lips and His lotus eyes move slightly. Brahma imagines Him teasing: “Grandfather, what are you doing? You rule universal majesty, while I am the son of a forest cowherd. You are ancient and I am a child. You know the Vedas' meaning and live virtuously, while I herd calves, possess no learning, know nothing of scriptural conduct, and eat rice while sitting, standing, or wandering. You command maya and are supremely happy, while I wander the forest distressed and bewildered by your maya. How could I be worthy of your praise?”

“O Brahma, you are lord of universal majesty, while I am merely a forest cowherd's son...” (Sarartha-darsini)

“Why such humility toward Me, and why are you so attracted to this dark body? What do you see in it? If your Vedic knowledge reveals some truth, tell Me.”

Reading this suggestion in His innocent glance, Brahma becomes overwhelmed. Repentant anguish fills his eight eyes. He replies inwardly, “Lord, enough! Do not bewilder me further, prince of Vraja. You alone are my support, and Your dark body is the foundation of my life. My creation-bound mind and intelligence cannot touch its greatness, so what can speech do?” His voice rises again:

“O Lord, no one, not even I in inward meditation, can comprehend the greatness of this form, which has appeared by Your free will, not from material elements, and which grants me mercy. What then can be said of You Yourself, the direct experience of spiritual bliss?” (Srimad-Bhagavatam 10.14.2)

“O compassionate Lord, this humanlike form has appeared by Your grace, visible to the eyes and enchanting the mind. Even I cannot fathom its glory, so who else could? You have assumed it for Your devotees and to delight Gokula's gopis and cowherds. You are desireless, the form of spiritual bliss, complete Brahman beyond and within all qualities, one yet many, dwelling in every heart, an ocean of mercy and Your people's happiness. Who can know Your deeds? Therefore we sing garlands of Your virtues. This avatara reveals the Vedas' essence and grants me supreme grace, assuming the devotees' desire. Its glory cannot be spoken even by countless beings like me. The one direct Reality alone supports all avataras.”

Who can know You completely? The moon itself cannot be grasped by a dwarf.

“Therefore, Lord,” Grandfather Brahma continues, “Your devotees do not attempt to measure the glory of Your form and majesty. They do not labor for it or delight in wandering to holy places. They take shelter at the doors of saints who have made You the essence and entirety of life. Dwelling there with unagitated minds, they continually hear from those saints the narratives of Your name, form, qualities, and pastimes, and the lives of devotees sung by them. While hearing, reverence joins their palms and loving absorption draws from their mouths the sacred cry, ‘Hari! Narayana! Lord of the universe!’ Their hearts are wholly disposed to affirm the narration. With body, mind, and speech they make discussion of You the essential support of life. Your stories alone are worthy of their honor and sustain their very breath.

“Without effort, they receive this supreme fortune of hearing at the saints' doors. Although those saints remain silent about other matters from fear of falsehood, outward-turning senses, or because all purposes have ended upon attaining You, they cannot refrain from singing Your names, forms, virtues, and pastimes. Thus talk of You is readily available to those who live near them, and every moment passes in relation to Your story. O unconquered Lord, though no one in the three worlds can subdue You by any means, You become almost conquered by those devoted to hearing Your accounts, even if they practice nothing else. Whoever adopts this life lived by devotees and follows their footprints upon the supreme path unfailingly receives this result.”

“Abandoning the effort to know You intellectually, those who remain humble and live by hearing narrations of You spoken by saints, receiving them with body, speech, and mind while remaining in their own place, conquer You, O unconquered Lord, who otherwise cannot be conquered in the three worlds.” (Srimad-Bhagavatam 10.14.3)

Abandon effort for knowledge and place the mind in Your story. Hear from Your beautiful saints, who shower the nectar of narration. Fill the ears with rasa and bow again with mind, speech, and action. Those who remain where they are and drink story's nectar live truly in this world. O unconquered Lord, they conquer You, while mere knowers wander empty. Their eyes behold Your form, their ears hear Your lovely story, and their mouths repeat Your blissful name. Those who live in this way become fulfilled, I know. O infinite, unconquered Lord of the three worlds, such people conquer You. The nectar of Your virtues and stories, flowing from sages' mouths, is supremely pure and pleasing. Those who drink it attentively day and night alone gain the true profit of birth. ...

Today Brahma clearly sees that one who seeks knowledge without sheltering in devotion through hearing and the other practices cannot attain it. Offering the flowers of his feeling near Sri Krsnacandra's charming feet, he submits this realization: “Lord, devotion to You is indispensable for everyone. Without it neither worldly flourishing nor liberation is possible, for every form of welfare arises and expands from devotion, the original source of all auspiciousness. Yet people become deluded and neglect it entirely. They do not consider the nectar of Your auspicious names fit for continual tasting, nor are they attracted to discussion of Your blameless, sweetest form. They do not love hearing and describing Your endlessly auspicious, honey-flowing virtues, and do not regard Your divine, conscious, blissful pastimes as worthy of contemplation.

“Disregarding these rasa-filled accounts, they labor constantly for what they call knowledge, hoping to reach the limit of Your glory or attain self-realization. Devotion to You, the abode of all auspiciousness, would effortlessly give them knowledge and self-realization as a subsidiary fruit, but they refuse even to look toward it. Despite their exhausting labor, knowledge does not illumine their minds or intelligence. Only suffering and the strain of practice remain, not even minor perfections. How could they arise? Worship of Your feet is the root of every perfection, and practice devoid of relation to You cannot produce any auspicious fruit. Their exertion is as useless as abandoning a small quantity of grain and pounding a heap of empty husks from which the rice has already been removed.”

“O almighty Lord, those who abandon devotion, the path of supreme good, and labor only to obtain knowledge retain nothing but suffering, just as those who beat empty husks gain nothing.” (Srimad-Bhagavatam 10.14.4)

Your devotion is a lake of nectarean rasa from which liberation and other streams flow. Those who abandon it for knowledge suffer in efforts to purify the mind. Their labor increases every moment, yet nothing comes into their hands, like ignorant people loudly pounding grain husks that contain no kernels. Their only fruit is useless suffering and blistered hands. Abandoning Your devotion, fools labor day and night for knowledge, consume themselves, and never find peace. The lake of devotion is exceedingly deep, with countless streams along its banks. Abandoning such joyful devotion, they take interest elsewhere. All their labor is fruitless, Lord, as scripture and Purana always sing. Like one who abandons a little true grain and cherishes a great heap that only resembles it, pounding it eagerly yet gaining no food and enduring misery, so a fool who abandons Your devotion suffers millions of sorrows while mounted upon delusion. I bow to the praiseworthy Lord with a cloud-dark body, whose yellow waistcloth shines like lightning. Gunja earrings beautify His ears, and the peacock feather upon His head enchants the world. His sacred lotus face is supremely beautiful, and I sacrifice the beauty of millions of Cupids before it. A pure garland of forest flowers shines upon His chest, and the morsel held in His hand enhances His beauty. He bears a staff, flute, and horn, and His tender feet shine, O treasury of auspiciousness. O son of Nanda, Your virtues are immense. I bow again and again to You, enemy of the demons.

“Lord, the glory of devotion is not merely a statement,” the womb of the Vedas now offers proof. “The lives of countless saints in the past directly reveal this truth. O boundless Lord, nothing is hidden from You. In the world I created, many yogis adopted the disciplines of yoga and knowledge and reached their highest stages of practice, yet knowledge's light did not arise and its sunbeams did not illumine their hearts. They then turned from that path and took the royal road of devotion. The current of their lives flowed toward You, every sense acted for Your sake, and all endeavors were offered to You. This offering quickly washed away the mind's impurity and awakened honor for hearing Your stories. Gaining saintly company, they remained immersed in their nectar. Devotion inevitably blossomed from drinking that nectar, and realization of their true being arose by itself. Thus, easily and without strain, they attained Your supreme abode. O Acyuta, this is entirely fitting, for one who takes shelter of devotion to You cannot fall from the desired perfection.”

“O infinite Lord, many yogis in the past offered their endeavors to You through the fruits of their own work. Awakened solely by devotion brought through hearing Your narrations, they easily attained Your supreme destination, O Acyuta.” (Srimad-Bhagavatam 10.14.5)

Lord, many former enjoyers abandoned enjoyment and became yogis. They firmly followed eightfold yoga and performed many austerities for knowledge. Seeing only great labor, they turned away and offered their actions to You. That purified the heart, and then they performed deeds for You. Hearing Your stories, they obtained devotion, with which every liberation follows. Through it they realized the Self and effortlessly attained the supreme destination. O infinite Lord, former yogis abandoned household happiness and became detached. They made immense efforts for knowledge but found none and became miserable. Then they offered every desire to You with mind and speech. Hearing Your stories, devotion entered their hearts, and they knew their true nature. Without effort those people attained liberation, O source of happiness. They never again fell into the ocean of becoming, and all worldly duality ended.

After saying this, the creator's eyes, mind, and life again rise and sink in the beauty of the prince of Vraja's fresh-cloud-dark limbs and the shoreless glory of His conscious, blissful form. Every particle of his life resounds, “This glory and this form of Vraja's prince are wholly unknowable!” Suddenly the formless aspect of Vrajendra's son flashes within Brahma's mind like a distant luminous shore seen while drifting upon a boundless ocean of rasa. Yet this too has neither beginning nor end, so how can it be known? What then do the Upanisadic commands “The Self must be seen” and “It must be repeatedly sought through the mind” mean?

Resolving this doubt, Brahma submits his conclusion at the Lord's feet: “Both Your qualified and unqualified aspects are unknowable. Still, the glory of the unqualified aspect may manifest within the fully purified mind of a sage whose senses are withdrawn. This manifestation is not like knowledge of a material object produced through reflected consciousness. By Your own self-luminous potency, You appear in a mind that has assumed the form of the Self. When the senses are withdrawn and no longer related to their objects, the mind ceases to assume the objects' forms. That freedom from object-form is its assumption of the Self's form. Within such a mind, empty of all modification and relation to objects, Your self-revealing, unqualified aspect can manifest. It is knowable inasmuch as it appears in the mental modification shaped as the Self, yet unknowable because reflected consciousness can never illuminate it.”

“Nevertheless, O infinite Lord, those of stainless inner being can understand the glory of Your unqualified aspect, because it is changeless, self-experienced, formless, and knowable by no awareness other than itself.” (Srimad-Bhagavatam 10.14.6)

Although Laksmi eternally dwells upon Your breast, even she never fully attains it. The heart longs to rely upon Him who has no form, line, or action. Some abandon every activity and purify the movements of mind, then easily enter objectless samadhi and attain You there. ... Some noble soul may know Your unqualified form, but no one attains Your qualified form of countless virtues, so the Vedas proclaim. Your incomparable form transcends the modes, and one who conquers the senses knows it as bliss.

“But in this same way, throughout the world the clear or unclear manifestation of conscious existence is called reflected consciousness in scriptural language.”

*The scriptural doctrine concerning knowledge of an object is as follows. The manifestation of conscious existence that appears clearly or indistinctly throughout the world is called reflected consciousness. Through this reflected consciousness and the mind connected with a sense and shaped like its object, living beings know, “This is a pot,” “This is cloth,” and so forth. More precisely, when an object such as a pot comes into relation with a sense such as sight, the inner organ or mind passes outward through the sense and reaches the place where the object stands. There it transforms into the object's shape. This transformation is called a mental modification, or the mind's assumption of the object's form. Reflected consciousness mirrored within that modification is called the result.

*When the mind becomes a pot-shaped modification, it destroys the ignorance covering the pot. Reflected consciousness present there, called the result, then illumines the pot. Only after this process does the knowledge “This is a pot” arise. The same should be understood for all objects of the senses. In brief, when one knows a worldly object such as a pot, cloth, or house, the mental modification removes ignorance of that object, but reflected consciousness is required to reveal it. Every inert object in the world appears only with its assistance. The reality of eternity, consciousness, and bliss, however, cannot be illumined by reflected consciousness.

*Therefore, in knowledge of Bhagavan's unqualified Brahman aspect, only the pervasion of the mental modification is needed to remove covering ignorance, meaning the mind's assumption of the form of the Self or Brahman. Reflected consciousness is not needed. To see the sun shining in the open sky, one must open one's eyes, but lamplight is useless for seeing the sun. Likewise, for Brahman to become manifest, the mind must assume the Self's form, but reflected consciousness serves no purpose. Just as opening the eyes reveals the sun as an undifferentiated sphere of light, the mind shaped as the Self gives rise to knowledge of Bhagavan's self-luminous, unqualified form of eternity, consciousness, and bliss:

“Regarding knowledge of inert objects such as a pot, the inner organ passes outward through the eye and other senses, reaches the place of the pot and other objects, and transforms into their form. That transformation is called a modification. Reflected consciousness mirrored in the modification is called the result. There the modification destroys the ignorance covering the pot and other objects; by reflected consciousness...”

By reflected consciousness, called the result, the pot is illumined. Then the cognition “this is a pot” arises. Thus, for a pot and similar objects to become manifest, pervasion by the result is required. With Brahman as the object, however, only pervasion by the mental modification is required to destroy the covering ignorance. When a mental modification of the form of Brahman arises, reflected consciousness is not required for Brahman to shine forth, just as a lamp is not required in order to see the sun, because Brahman is self-luminous. Two summary verses state this:

Both the intellect and the reflected consciousness situated within it pervade the pot. The intellect destroys the ignorance covering it, and through reflected consciousness the pot shines forth.

For the destruction of ignorance concerning Brahman, pervasion by the mental modification is required. Because Brahman is itself the nature of illumination, reflected consciousness has no place there.

(Anvitārthaprakāśikā)

“Nor is it ever possible to know your majesty, O Infinite Lord!” The creator again spoke as though enclosing everything within the glory of the prince of Vraja's particular personal form. “You are the abode of limitless, supramundane, auspicious qualities and always remain unknowable to all. Who has ever fathomed your divine qualities, Lord? Your descent is solely for the welfare of the world. Who knows the many forms in which you previously descended to bless your devotees or which of your infinite qualities you revealed? Throughout the beginningless current of the world, whenever you descend, worshiped through the limitless feelings of limitless beings and drawn by their love, who can know how, where, and in what form your endless qualities such as compassion and tenderness toward devotees have appeared? Who could count your host of qualities? Even immensely powerful Śeṣa and great yogic lords such as Sanaka, who through long labor might count the particles of earthly dust, flakes of snow in the sky, and atoms within the rays of the sun and stars, possess no power to enumerate your infinite auspicious qualities.”

Who could measure the qualities of you, the very source of all qualities, who have descended for the world's welfare? Even over immense spans of time, one might count the particles of earth, the snow in the sky, or the rays of heavenly lights, but not your qualities.

(Śrīmad Bhāgavata 10.14.7)

Yet this personal form of yours with all its qualities causes my mind to lose itself here.

You assume these wondrous descents for the protection of the universe.

Your names, forms, qualities, and deeds are infinite. No one reaches their end by counting.

However many atoms exist upon the earth, and however many snowflakes and stars fill the sky,

some skilled person, given enough time, might become capable of counting them.

Yet no one could fully describe the qualities of your personal form.

No one can know the mystery of this renowned divine body with attributes.

Your qualities are inconceivable and your glory an ocean of bliss, O prince of Vraja who protects the world.

Even a hundred Śeṣas could not count your virtues, though each possesses innumerable mouths.

However many particles of earth and hosts of stars fill the sky, and however many drops fall in the rain,

however vast the masses of snow, a skilled person might count them with great concentration.

By immense labor one might count the atoms in rays across the sky, yet know that no one in the world can count your qualities.

As he spoke, a current of devotion surged through the creator's mind. Remembering the auspicious qualities of Vraja's prince awakened feelings of self-surrender, and he said, “Therefore, ocean of compassion, there is no need to count your qualities. Let faith somehow arise in your infinite mercy. Amid timely happiness and prosperity and amid tempests of misery and poverty alike, may one constantly behold only the stainless current of your grace. If even that is not possible, may expectant longing for your compassion awaken, fixing one's gaze only upon the question, ‘When will the Lord's grace fall upon me?’ Just as the cātaka bird turns from springs, rivers, oceans, rain, and dew and waits single-mindedly for drops falling under Svāti, allowing its life to burn with thirst while looking nowhere but toward its desired cloud, so may one abandon every other hope and continually yearn for one particle of your grace. Until that grace is experienced, instead of wasting the body through severe austerities, may one accept with an unchanged, unwithering mind the pleasures and pains of destiny arising from deeds performed in former births. Because you continue to shine within, may the unbroken feeling of surrendering oneself at your lotus feet remain, with a loving heart, faltering voice, and body thrilled with devotion. May life be molded entirely by this discipline. Anyone who lives in this way becomes heir to the right of serving your feet. What wonder is there if a living son inherits his father's wealth? Only dead, fallen, or foster sons are deprived. The countless beings of the world are children of you, the universal Father. Those whose lives rest upon worship of your lotus feet are truly alive. Their lives alone succeed, and they alone inherit the great treasure of serving your lotus feet. Those who turn away from you are dead. Air also enters and leaves a bellows. The breathing of those turned from your feet is just the same, and their lives are futile. Or they belong among fallen sons or foster children of your māyā and remain deprived of the Father's wealth. How could they receive the cool, deeply peaceful shade of your lotus feet that extinguishes the flames of worldly existence? But how could devotees fail to become fulfilled when they remain immersed in experiencing or awaiting your grace, accept destiny without disturbance, and live by offering body, mind, and speech to you alone? Without labor and with great ease, they inherit the immense wealth of service to your lotus-beautiful feet. What need is there to say that their beginningless wandering ends and they receive freedom from worldly bondage as a secondary fruit of taking shelter at your feet?”

• Śukapakṣīya by Śrī Sudarśana Sūri.

† The Praise of the Vedas, Śrīmad Bhāgavata 10.87.17.

One who earnestly awaits your mercy while accepting the results of one's own past deeds, bowing to you with heart, speech, and body, and continuing to live in this way becomes the rightful heir to liberation.

(Śrīmad Bhāgavata 10.14.8)

Therefore one follows devotion and cherishes hope in you.

“When will your grace descend? When will Nanda's son cast upon me a sweet, rasa-filled glance?”

One accepts the fruits of one's destined deeds, remaining unattached and free from craving.

One does not torment oneself with severe austerity, but lets the rasa of hearing and chanting flow within.

Living in this way, one gains good fortune. Why should anyone dispute it?

Therefore, Lord of the universe, devotion to you is easy for the living being. O son of Nanda, I see no other way apart from devotion.

Whoever is wise in this world desires only your gracious glance.

Hearing Hari's stories each day, one longs, “When will the Lord of the Yadus glance upon me?”

Whatever old deeds one has accumulated, whether good or bad,

one receives and experiences their results, remaining unattached and free from sorrow.

Abandoning painful austerities, one remains constantly devoted to your feet.

Know that those who live in this manner have become heirs to liberation.

A natural sign that mind, intellect, and senses have been steeped in devotional rasa is the complete disappearance of pride and the arising of true humility, together with awareness of one's lowliness and faults. Grandfather Brahmā had reached precisely this condition.

An eternal smile rests upon the nectar-flowing lips of Vraja's prince, and a strange line of movement continually plays within his eyes. No one has ever discovered the limit of what these may mean at any moment. Their reflection falls upon the mirror of feeling, and according to one's own emotion, some new indication descends from that reflection into the heart in every vision. This happened to the lotus-born Brahmā. He looked toward Kṛṣṇacandra's lovely, restless eyes and gentle smile, and his mind read a new meaning in them: “Grandfather, you too are my devotee, and therefore you too are an heir to my great treasure.” This thought made Brahmā, within whom the Vedas dwell, intensely agitated. His humility and smallness, realization of the unequaled majesty of Vraja's prince, memory of his offense, and self-reproach all flowed together within him. The current of his praise changed, and he said, “Lord, I am no devotee. Had I been one, I would never have acted with such insolence or committed such folly. See for yourself, indwelling Lord. There has been no limit to my wicked behavior and foolishness. You are the cause of all causes and also directly my father, for I arose from the lotus of your navel. Who could be more wicked than one who offends his own father while that father sits happily at a meal with his companions? What can be said of my foolishness? You possess infinite, indivisible majesty. Your nature, glory, and power have no end. As the Supreme Self and inner ruler, you dwell within and without everyone and are the Self even of all selves. You are Lord of every māyā. Even Śeṣa, Śaṅkara, and others can be bewildered by your power. Yet I sought to spread my own māyā over you, the glorious cause of all causes, ruler of all and master of every māyā. I wished to bewilder you and then behold your power. No, I went to establish my prestige before the gods, hoping to gain the fame that ‘Grandfather Brahmā bewildered even the Supreme Lord, master of all universes, with his māyā.’ Is there any limit to such extreme folly? What existence do I possess beside you? Is a spark arisen from a blazing mass of fire even counted before that fire? You are so great, while I am smaller than the smallest, yet I acted with such crookedness. What can I say, Lord?”

O Lord, behold my ignoble conduct. Though you are infinite, primeval, the Supreme Self, and master of every wielder of māyā, I spread my illusion in order to test your power. How insignificant I am, like a spark before a blazing fire.

(Śrīmad Bhāgavata 10.14.9)

Behold my wickedness, Lord. I wished to test your majesty.

It was as though a spark born from fire tried to display its power to that fire,

or as though a cloth fan moved its wings and sought to cover the orb of the sun.

Hear another fitting comparison, Lord: a fly tries to stare down Garuḍa.

Behold my wrongdoing, Lord. How far can I describe your forgiveness?

You are ruler and controller of wielders of māyā, Hari, the divine Lord and master of māyā.

I, dull-minded, brought my tiny illusion and displayed it before the Lord.

With it I wished to see your majesty, O Infinite One. How could my foolish mind behold the end of your glory?

“But those who are truly great do not look toward the offenses of the small.” The lotus-born Brahmā begged forgiveness from the prince of Vraja. “It is impossible that anyone who spreads a supplicant's cloth at your door seeking forgiveness should return disappointed. Therefore, infallible Lord, forgive me as well. Trusting the eternal truth that you can never depart from your nature of infinite compassion, I join my palms and take shelter at your feet. I am smaller than the smallest, while you are greater than the greatest. Supremely glorious Lord, do not look toward offenses committed by one as insignificant as I. The truth is that one in my condition could hardly do anything but offend. I was born from the quality of passion and remain continually engaged in producing a creation filled with passion. Material passion cannot remain entirely free from darkness. Its shadow necessarily falls upon me, and ignorance born of darkness remains my lifelong companion. This is why I could neither see nor know your true nature. Consequently, I regarded myself as separate from you, completely independent, and master of the world. What a condition was mine! The dense darkness of pride created by māyā, the heavy covering born from the thought ‘I am the unborn creator of the world,’ blinded my eyes. How could I see you? I committed these offenses while covered by darkness. Now let the moon of your compassion rise. May the darkness of my pride disappear forever within its supremely divine white radiance, and may I always behold you, Lord of all.

“The meaning is that only when the rising moon of your compassion removes the dense darkness within me will you become visible, and not otherwise.”

(Sārārthadarśinī)

“Please also forgive the offenses that have occurred. In your exceedingly tender heart, think of me in this way: ‘He may be the grandfather of all, but I alone am his Lord. He is protected only by depending upon me. If I neglect him, he has no other protector; for him, not even the slightest

place of refuge exists anywhere at all. Therefore this servant of mine is surely a fit recipient of my grace, and my compassion must indeed rest upon him.’ Thinking in this way, ocean of mercy, let your compassion overflow for me. Let me be swept along upon these waves of your compassion. May all my offenses be washed away in this most stainless current.

Therefore, infallible Lord, forgive me, born of passion, whose eyes have been blinded by the dense darkness of pride in being the unborn creator. Show me compassion, thinking, “He has me as his Lord.”

(Śrīmad Bhāgavata 10.14.10)

Now I confess my offense. Forgive me, for I am utterly unworthy.

Born of the quality of passion, I became ignorant, proudly imagining myself a lord apart from you.

Intoxicated by the pride of māyā, I lost all sense. I could see nothing, for blind darkness covered me.

Therefore, show me compassion alone. Knowing me as your servant, keep nothing against me in your heart.

Forgive my faults, O Father. You are the ocean of mercy, savior of the whole world.

Born from the quality of passion, I am devoid of wisdom. In my wretchedness I regarded myself as a separate lord.

In utter ignorance I committed this offense. Friend of the lowly, your mercy is unfathomable.

Darkness in the form of the unborn māyā covered my eyes. I could see nothing, O deliverer from worldly existence.

Although this servant has no other refuge, O Lord, the scripture nevertheless proclaims, “He is my servant.”

Knowing only this, overlook all my errors. See me as a servant at your feet and forgive me.

Grandfather Brahmā's humility became profound and then more profound still. He began to seek forgiveness from the son of Vraja's king: “I do not even have the right to ask forgiveness from you, so trivial and insignificant am I!” In this very absorption he described his own smallness: “Abode of all majesty, my Lord, where are you and where am I? On one side stands my tiny form. Within the pot of this universe, enclosed by the coverings of primordial nature, the great principle, ego, ether, air, fire, water, and earth, I bear a body that measures only three and a half cubits by its own scale. On the other side is one of your forms, in every opening of whose pores countless universes continually come and go, like particles of dust seen floating in rays of sunlight entering through the lattice of a window. When breath flows out from your nostrils, these innumerable hosts of universes emerge from your pores; when the breath enters again, this endless succession of cosmic eggs returns into those same pores. Such is your majesty. Where is this smallness of mine, and where is your infinite greatness? Who can say whether the gaze of one so supremely great as you would even fall upon an offense committed by one as insignificant as I? And if you have regarded it as an offense, my existence, smaller than the smallest, is not even worthy to appear before you and ask forgiveness. Divine Lord, only if you bestow unasked compassion upon me can I become fulfilled.”

What am I, bearing a body of seven spans within this pot-like universe enclosed by primordial nature, the great principle, ego, ether, air, fire, water, and earth? And how vast is your greatness, within the pathways of whose pores countless universes move like particles of dust borne upon the air?

(Śrīmad Bhāgavata 10.14.11)

What am I, and what is the Lord's majesty? It is like comparing an ant with an elephant. Nature, the great principle, ego, and ether, air, water, earth, and fire form the coverings.

Within this one dwelling with its seven coverings, what am I before you? You made my body seven spans in measure, and where within it do I even remain?

Millions upon millions of such universes occupy but one portion of one of your pores. They arise and move ceaselessly, like dust motes passing through a lattice opening.

I am utterly trivial and worthy of nothing. Show me mercy and do not contend with me, O prince of Vraja.

You alone are the complete Brahman, O Lord. From you this universe has become manifold.

By your will the moving and unmoving world is created. So declare all the words of scripture.

First the great principle arose through māyā, then ego became threefold through the qualities.

With air, fire, water, and earth, this cosmic shell arose, O Lord. Measured by its own scale as seven spans, it is the dwelling of all.

Within it, further manifold creation appeared: living beings, intellect, mind, and innumerable deeds.

Then came the five senses and their objects, together with their presiding gods.

The body was formed with the fivefold vital wind, the seven bodily constituents, and the five vital airs.

And Nārāyaṇa is your name, for all beings have their abode in you, as the Vedas establish.

I rule only one cosmic egg. I am exceedingly small, yet heavily burdened with ego.

Millions upon millions of such cosmic eggs move without cease through every pore of yours.

There they appear like mere particles of dust. Such a Lord enchants the mind.

I am your servant, insignificant and dull-witted. Show me mercy, O source of compassion.

The creator's remembrance of the incomparable majesty of Vraja's prince and of his own utterly insignificant form suddenly awakened within him a tender, loving feeling filled with hope. It was as though the devotional sign called binding hope, which accompanies humility, cast its shadow upon his mind, and he began to think: “No, the Lord whose belly contains endless hosts of universes will not count this act of mine among offenses.” Filled with joy, he exclaimed: “Adhokṣaja, the senses have no power to know you, for you are their governor. Every perception that arises within me is governed by you. You alone decide, my Lord, whether this perception I now submit is true. Supreme Lord of lords, consider this: does a mother become angry when the child within her womb strikes her with its feet? When that unknowing child stretches and kicks inside the womb, does its mother ever count the act as an offense? Is this movement of an unborn child's feet classed as wrongdoing? Indeed, when she no longer perceives the movement of those feet, the loving mother becomes restless with fear that something is wrong. In the same way, innumerable universes containing limitless hosts of living beings rest within your vast womb. Tell me, support of all, does anything denoted by the words ‘is’ and ‘is not,’ by terms of presence and absence, or by words indicating gross, subtle, effect, and cause, exist outside your belly? Everything rests within your abdomen, within the openings of your pores. However many offenses one may commit, the offender is ultimately a child within your womb. Like a loving mother, you will not count even that child's endless offenses. Your gaze will likewise not fall upon offenses committed by me, an unknowing infant dwelling within your own belly. Compassionate Lord and ground of all, you will surely bear everything I have done.”

Adhokṣaja, can the kicking of a child's feet within the womb be counted as an offense against its mother? Infinite Lord, is there anything whatsoever, adorned with the designations “is” or “is not,” that exists outside your belly?

(Śrīmad Bhāgavata 10.14.12)

Lord, an utterly unknowing infant dwells within its mother's womb. It stretches its hands and feet there, yet does the mother take offense?

In just this way I dwell within your womb, frolicking without any awareness.

When a child dwells within its mother's womb, it commits many offenses there.

The mother counts none of them as an offense. So too, wise Lord, the whole world rests within your belly.

Nothing at all is seen outside you. Everything lies within your heart, O king of the Yadus.

Therefore forgive my offense, savior of the world. Like a mother, you are the mother of all creation.

“And one thing in particular is well known, Lord: I am your son.” The lotus-born Brahmā continued in the same current of feeling. “This entire manifestation of the universe arose from you through a succession of causes, but I was born directly from you. This happened when the manifested cosmos had dissolved. The upper, middle, and lower worlds, together with the cosmic egg and its coverings, had merged into the great flood of the oceans, the mass of waters at the time of dissolution. Within that single ocean, Śrī Nārāyaṇa lay upon his bed of Śeṣa. The declarations of the Vedas and other scriptures that Brahmā emerged from the navel-lotus within Nārāyaṇa's abdomen cannot possibly be false. The revealed statement ‘Brahmā is born from Nārāyaṇa’ and the following verse declare:

“From the navel of that sleeping Lord emerged a lotus radiant as the sun, and upon that lotus Grandfather Brahmā was born.”

This statement of Mārkaṇḍeya and the many narratives of the same kind are not false, my Lord. Tell me yourself, Lord of all: was I not born from your navel-lotus?

When the three worlds had ended and the waters of dissolution swelled, the unborn Brahmā emerged from the stalk of the navel-lotus in Nārāyaṇa's abdomen. This declaration is certainly not false. Supreme Lord, did I not arise from you?

(Śrīmad Bhāgavata 10.14.13)

Now I say that I am your servant, and my birth came manifestly from you. When all moving and unmoving worlds were submerged within the ocean of dissolution,

did I not emerge from your navel-lotus, from within this stainless abdomen of yours? Everyone in every village knows my name as “lotus-born.” Can that be false?

At the time of dissolution, all oceans merged into one, forming a vast and fearsome expanse of water. Within those waters, the Lord of Śrī lay in one place.

Then from his beautiful navel appeared a lotus, a mass of surpassing splendor.

From that lotus I appeared, O Lord of the Yadus. The words sung by revelation are true.

Supreme Lord, I know myself to be your son. Accept that you are my father and this is my relation to you.

Look upon me with a gracious gaze, Lord. As protector of the surrendered, bring me blessedness.

The lotus-born Brahmā thought that the playful prince of Vraja might say, “Brahmā, it is true that you are a son of Nārāyaṇa, but what relation does that bear to me?” Dispelling this doubt, he said: “Tell me, supreme Lord, root of all, are you not Nārāyaṇa? You are, my Lord. In every sense the word ‘Nārāyaṇa’ finds its true meaning in you. You are the Self of all living beings, and therefore you are Nārāyaṇa (nāra, the host of living beings; ayana, refuge). Or, all the activities of living beings, such as seeing, hearing, speaking, and walking, proceed from you. Therefore you are also Nārāyaṇa (nāra, the host of living beings; ayana, activity). Thus the Nārāyaṇa who dwells within all beings as the third puruṣa incarnation is also you. You are the witness of all worlds. Therefore too you are Nārāyaṇa (nāra, the host of living beings; ayana, knowledge); you are also the Nārāyaṇa who, as the indwelling ruler of the cosmic egg, is the second

puruṣa incarnation, is also you, divine Lord! The Nārāyaṇa who is renowned by that name because he dwells in the waters produced from Nara, the Lord (nāra, water; ayana, dwelling place), who reclines upon the Causal Ocean and abides as the indwelling ruler of primordial nature in the form of the first puruṣa incarnation, is likewise your own manifestation. Hearing that in this form you reside within the waters of the Causal Ocean could produce the mistaken impression that you are limited. Yet you are eternally unlimited. Although you recline upon the water like a bounded object, you remain forever without limit. The appearance of limitation in you is not true. It is an effect of your inconceivable power of māyā, through which you remain infinite while appearing bounded and remain eternally unlimited while seeming to occupy a limited form.

Supreme Lord, are you not Nārāyaṇa, the Self of all embodied beings and witness of all worlds? Nārāyaṇa, who rests upon the waters born from Nara, is your own manifestation. Yet even that apparent situation is not ultimately real, but is your māyā.

(Śrīmad Bhāgavata 10.14.14)

If you say, “That one is not I. Nārāyaṇa is the one who dwells in the water. My home is Vraja, the abode of Vṛndāvana. Go to him, for you have no business here.

Why have you come here to my Vraja, speaking to me of your relation with him?” Brahmā replies, “No, no, you are Nārāyaṇa, my Lord, the indwelling ruler of all the worlds.

All living beings are called nāra, and all these waters are also called nāra. Do you not have your dwelling within them? Lord, you are driving me to bewilderment.

The Nārāyaṇa who dwells in the water is your own manifestation, Lord.”

If the Lord should say, “Scripture sings that you are the son of the lover of Ramā.

How, then, are you my son? Go and hope for grace from him,”

then hear this, O Lord of Vraja: the scriptural song declares that you are Nārāyaṇa.

You are the refuge of all nāras, treasure of compassion. You are Nārāyaṇa, the blessed Lord.

The word nāra denotes all living beings, and revelation sings that you dwell within them.

Or, supreme Lord, if you state it another way, you are the Lord who sets all nāras into motion.

Like a puppeteer, you make everyone dance. All revelation sings of you in precisely this way.

If you say that nāra means one who knows, then wherever the moving and unmoving world exists, you are assuredly its witness.

Wise Lord, this does not exhaust the derivation of the word nāra that you have invoked.

Hear, then, how it should now be understood, as the Vedas and all the sages proclaim.

The twenty-four principles constitute unborn nature, and through them the whole moving and unmoving world appears beautiful.

The lover of Ramā, who made those nāras his abode, bestowed happiness upon all.

That one is you, treasure of compassion. There is no other, so sings revelation.

“My body is not unlimited, and the wondrous water is filled with radiance.

Scripture says that the entire moving and unmoving world is woven through and through with it.

Taking shelter in that water never makes one diminished,” whatever words you may say in this way.

To that I reply, “Hear my words. This entire construction belongs to your māyā.

Within it every impossible thing comes to pass. You are Lord of all and savior of the entire world.”

“The truth is, my Lord, that your divine form cannot properly be described by the words unlimited or limited. Who has the power truly to comprehend the essential reality of your nature and the mystery of your divine form? Tell me this: if your form as Śrī Nārāyaṇa, the support of the universe, was situated only within the water like a bounded object, why did I not behold it on that day?” The creator remembered the wondrous and mysterious events surrounding his birth.

He was seated upon the pericarp of a lotus. No world was visible to him. He saw only rows of waves leaping upon the water under gusts of the wind of dissolution and the lotus that served as his seat. The primeval god could understand none of its mystery. He began to wonder: “Who am I, seated upon the pericarp of this lotus? And how did this lotus arise within this mass of water without any other support? Beneath it there must surely be something upon which it rests and from which it has manifested.” Thinking in this way, he entered the water through the subtle channels of the lotus stalk and set out to find its root. A very long period, a full hundred years, passed while he searched for its place of origin within that boundless darkness. He found only disappointment and returned with his purpose unfulfilled. He could not find the root of that lotus fiber. He came back again to the lotus seat that supported him. Then he mastered the vital breath, emptied his mind of all thought, and entered the yoga of samādhi. After a hundred celestial years had passed, he received the light of knowledge, and the foundation revealed itself spontaneously within his own heart. What a wondrous vision it was! Within that ocean of dissolution, Śrī Nārāyaṇa reclined upon the bed of immense Śeṣa, who was white as lotus fiber. Śeṣa's thousands of hoods spread above him like a parasol. The radiance of the jewels adorning Śeṣa's heads had dissolved every trace of darkness. What could be said of the beauty of Śrī Nārāyaṇa's divine limbs? The dark splendor of his body surpassed the beauty of an emerald mountain. His yellow garment shamed the radiance of a yellow-tinged evening cloud resting upon the slopes of a sapphire mountain. His crown made golden peaks appear dull with its brilliance. His jeweled necklace surpassed the beauty of masses of gems scattered upon a mountain's heart; his pearl necklace, a stream of water flowing over its breast; his garland of tulasī, rows of medicinal plants; and his forest garland, clusters of flowers. His arms made bamboo stalks seem inferior, and his feet did the same to trees. Śrī Nārāyaṇa's divine form contained the three worlds within itself. It was tall and vast, its dimensions perfectly suited to itself. So beautiful and incomparable was it that its own loveliness made even wondrous divine garments and ornaments more splendid. Yet, although supremely beautiful in itself, it bore ornaments and was adorned with yellow cloth and many kinds of jewelry. The Lord revealed his lotus feet, which mercifully grant every desired blessing to devotees who worship by different paths to fulfill their longings. Those lotus feet were plainly visible. Toes like lotus petals shone in the moonlight of their nails. Wondrous was that moonlight, and wondrous were those petal-like toes. With his shapely nose, beautiful brows, shimmering earrings, the coral-surpassing radiance of his reddish lips, and a smile that removes the suffering of the worlds, Śrī Nārāyaṇa welcomed his devotees through his lotus face. His hips were adorned with a girdle and a lovely yellow cloth resembling the filaments of a kadamba flower. His chest shone with Śrīvatsa and a precious necklace. That Lord, whose root is unmanifest, possessed the beauty of a sandalwood tree. His immense arms, adorned with priceless armlets and bracelets set with the finest jewels, resembled the thousand branches of that sandalwood tree. His shoulders, encircled by the hoods of Śeṣa, looked as though hosts of serpents were entwined about the sandalwood tree. Śrī Nārāyaṇa, companion of the serpent king Śeṣa, appeared like a mountain surrounded by water. The king of mountains

Just as a mountain gives shelter to many communities of living beings, He was the refuge of everything moving and unmoving. The thousands of crowns adorning Śeṣa's hoods appeared like golden mountain peaks, while the Kaustubha jewel resembled a gem brought forth from the heart of that king of mountains. The creator had beheld this wondrous, majestic, and supremely beautiful form of Śrī Nārāyaṇa. In the lake of His navel he had found the root of the lotus stalk and had offered Him praise. Then, before Brahmā's eyes, Lord Nārāyaṇa reassured the creator, gave him certain instructions, and disappeared. (Śrīmad Bhāgavatam 3.8)

At the time of dissolution there was boundless water, and within it a vast lotus appeared. Brahmā sat in its pericarp, knowing nothing of its origin. Though he was the source of knowledge for all worlds, he did not know the lotus's secret or even his own origin, and his divine knowledge was obscured. The wind of dissolution shook the lotus, and the waves carried it as he sat astonished.

O Vidura, hear the wonder of his reflections. Alone upon the lotus, he wondered, "From where have I come? The lotus must have arisen from something. Beneath it there must be some real foundation from which this abode of delight appeared." Thinking thus, wise Brahmā entered the lotus stalk and traveled through its hollow in search of its support. Relying upon his own strength, he went very far and endured immense fatigue, but the effort of one turned away from Hari is fruitless. He searched for a hundred years without finding the foundation or the cause of his birth, then returned and sat again within the lotus's pericarp, withdrawn but not yet at peace.

There Brahmā carefully mastered his breath and speech and fixed his mind in firm samādhi. After practicing yoga for a hundred years, realization arose and brought him great joy. Within his heart he saw the very Lord whom he had searched for so long but could not find outside. His heart filled with extraordinary delight.

I shall describe to you what he saw within his heart, endowed with divine qualities. The fair serpent Śeṣa, resembling a lotus stalk, formed a beautiful and incomparable couch. Upon him one Person rested in bliss, the beloved of Ramā, with no other present. Śeṣa's thousand lovely hoods formed a charming parasol. Their incomparable jewels and crowns shone with supreme brilliance and dispelled the darkness of the waters of dissolution. Upon that couch the Lord shone like a great mountain of emerald radiance. His yellow garment was so splendid that the beauty of an evening cloud seemed pale beside it. His wondrous crowns appeared like many golden peaks. Clusters of gems were like exquisite flowers, and His forest garland was supremely beautiful.

His vast and lovely body held the three worlds within itself. Though naturally beautiful, it accepted sanctifying ornaments. When Brahmā saw this form, his heart became exceedingly joyful. Whoever seeks a cherished result should serve the Lord's lotus feet and worship Him skillfully according to the Vedas, for He grants every fruit. To invite such service, the Lord had slightly raised His lotus feet. Merely seeing them produced a mass of bliss, and the radiance of their nails resembled millions of moons.

Who can describe the limitless beauty of His face, where a gentle smile played? Adorned with earrings, He removed the distress of all worlds and gave happiness to His servants. His crimson lips surpassed the bimba fruit, His handsome nose bestowed welfare upon the world, and His beautiful brows were the source of joy, granting bliss to His worshipers. His yellow cloth, lovely as kadamba filaments, delighted the sages' minds. A splendid girdle adorned His hips and spread abundant radiance. The mark of Śrī shone magnificently upon His chest, and a priceless necklace graced His neck.

The Lord's form was again described as a beautiful sandalwood tree. His four strong, long, and handsome arms, adorned with priceless jeweled armlets, were its many branches. The armlets and other ornaments resembled its flowers and fruits. That incomparable cosmic tree, whose unseen root is bliss, had all its branches encircled by Ananta's hoods, just as many serpents move within a sandalwood tree.

Then the Lord's lovely body was compared to a mountain. He was the incomparable shelter of all moving and unmoving beings and the friend of the serpent king. Surrounded on every side by boundless water, He resembled Mount Maināka and the other mountains. His thousand beautiful, massive crowns were like pleasing mountain peaks. As jewels lie within Mount Meru and other great mountains, the Kaustubha jewel shone within the Lord's breast. Seeing the Lord endowed with such splendor, Brahmā's heart filled with wonder.

From the incomparable lake of Bhagavān's navel arose the beautiful lotus. Deeply concerned with the creation of the worlds, Brahmā saw the abode of Ramā and began to praise Him. He offered praise according to his ability, then fell silent as though exhausted. The Lord spoke profound and excellent words that Brahmā understood as destroying his delusion: "Brahmā, may all good come to you. Accept My command and place it upon your head."

× × ×

"O wise Brahmā, you have attained fulfillment. For My sake, create this manifold universe. Your body embodies all the Vedas. Fashion the three worlds according to your heart's intention." Having instructed Brahmā in this way and explained everything, the beloved of Ramā at once disappeared.

The entire scene from the past danced again before Brahmā's inner eyes, and he appealed to the prince of Vraja: "Lord, You alone must resolve this. If that divine body of Yours were finite, limited, and situated within the water, why did I not see it when I entered through the lotus stalk? Why did it then manifest within my own heart only after I had become calm, ceased my outward effort, and immersed myself in meditation upon You through samādhi-yoga? If I conclude that it is unlimited because even I, Brahmā, could not find it, how did I behold it within the region of my heart? And why did that same form then disappear? Master, how can all these facts be reconciled? They occur only through Your inconceivable great power. The mystery of Your divine body and Your very nature is indescribable and inconceivable. This alone can be said, Bhagavān."

If that body of Yours, which contains the universe, was situated in the water, why, Bhagavān, did I not see it then? Why did I later behold it clearly within my heart, and why did it not appear again immediately afterward?

When I traveled through the lotus stalk with the speed of mind, a hundred years passed. If You were enclosed within the water, how far could You have remained from me? Later, when You mercifully told me, "Perform austerity, perform austerity," I followed that command firmly. Then You appeared briefly within my heart and vanished again in a flash. These are the tangled knots of Your Māyā. Everyone becomes entangled in them, and no one can unravel them.

It was the will of the playful Lord, an unsolicited gift of grace from the prince of Vraja. Suddenly the creator's mind connected with the occasion when the queen of Vraja saw the universe within Śrī Kṛṣṇacandra's mouth. He saw the event as plainly as a fruit resting in his palm and, absorbed in it, cited it in his hymn:

"O destroyer of Māyā, Lord who removes the bonds of Māyā from those surrendered to You, how mysterious was the inconceivable majesty of Māyā that You displayed in this very incarnation while expanding Your pastimes as Vrajarāja's son! The queen of Vraja looked inside Your mouth. Though Your belly contains limitless universes, in the absorption of childhood play You had eaten earth. To determine whether the cowherd boys' accusation was true or false, Your affectionate mother looked within Your mouth. What she saw was astonishing, Lord. You showed her the entire visible universe, evident to everyone, situated within Your belly. How fully Your majestic Māyā manifested at that moment!

"See the wonder. This whole universe shone within Your belly, and You Yourself were present there. Outside Your belly the same complete manifestation appeared, and You were present here as well. The queen of Vraja clearly saw within Your belly the whole world of moving and unmoving beings, the flowing Kālindī, Vraja, its cows, cowherds, and gopīs, Vrajendra's palace and garden, and You, her Nīlasundara, while she herself looked into Your mouth. There were limitless universes, limitless Vrajas, limitless gardens, limitless forms of You as her Nīlasundara, and limitless Yaśodās looking within Nīlasundara's mouth for particles of earth. Just as within Your belly, the same world appeared outside it. You were there, and Mother Yaśodā was still searching Your mouth for a sign of earth. Master, what could this mysterious event be except the majesty of Your inconceivable great power?"

O subduer of Māyā, in this very incarnation You revealed to Your mother that this entire manifested universe, plainly visible outside, also existed within Your belly and was nothing but Your Māyā. Just as this whole universe, including You, appeared within Your abdomen, so here outside it everything appeared within You. What could this be without Māyā?

And now, in this very incarnation, the Supreme Lord became the prince of Vraja. You showed Māyā to Your mother, and she was startled and filled with wonder. The entire universe of moving and unmoving beings seen outside was shown by You within Your belly. There You revealed another marvel: she saw You inside while Mother Yaśodā stood holding a switch and scolding You. Everyone knows that a reflection appears within its original image, but You displayed the original within the reflection. How could this occur without Māyā?

"And how astonishing is the vision of Your boundless great power that You have shown me just now, Master!" The account of the queen of Vraja seeing the universe awakened a similar realization in Brahmā's memory, and he could not refrain from expressing it:

"Through this marvelous vision, Lord, You have also shown that the apparent existence of a world separate from You is the play of Māyā. When I bewildered and removed the cowherd boys and calves and then looked toward You for a moment, I saw You alone in the forest as Vrajarāja's son, like an innocent child, with no one beside You. After going to Brahmaloka and returning with a remorseful heart, I saw that You had manifested Yourself and were playing as all the cowherd boys and calves I had removed, and even as their flutes, horns, and other belongings.

"Then the scene changed again. Before my eyes, all the cowherd boys, calves, and their possessions became four-armed lords of universes. Every moving and unmoving being, from Brahmā down to a blade of grass, appeared in the embodied form of its presiding deity and worshiped those four-armed Lords. As many four-armed forms as I saw, that same number of countless universes appeared. You alone had manifested Yourself in every one of those forms. Afterward, You alone remained as the one, unlimited Supreme Brahman in human form. By revealing this play of consciousness, You made it clear that no world exists apart from You. Everything is You alone, Lord."

Have You not today shown me that all this is Māyā apart from You? At first You were alone. Then You became all the friends and calves of Vraja. Next You became that same number of four-armed forms, whom I worshiped together with all beings, and that same number of universes appeared. Finally, only the unlimited, nondual Brahman remained.

At first I saw You alone. Then You became all the boys and calves. Every flute, horn, cane, and leaf became a beautiful four-armed form. Each was the lord of a universe, and all qualified beings, including me, worshiped them. Then every one of those forms vanished, and I saw only Manamohana standing before me. Who is capable of knowing the marvelous wonder of Your glory?

But to those who are unaware of Your infinite and boundless glory, You appear to be something else entirely

"You appear so, Lord!" The light of knowledge in Brahmā's heart now seemed to become a lamp offered before the moonlike nails of Vrajarāja's son's feet, and in its radiance he began to analyze reality:

"Ignorance covers those people, Lord, and therefore they cannot know Your true nature. You appear to them merely as a living being situated within a material body. Casting the covering of Māyā, You appear as me, Brahmā, at creation, as Yourself in the form of Viṣṇu during preservation, and as Rudra at dissolution. O possessor of inconceivable majesty, supremely independent Lord who ordains many descents, true creator of the universe and master of the world, You are eternally unborn. You never take birth like a material being. Yet to crush the pride of the wicked and immerse the saintly in the current of Your grace, You descend among gods, sages, human beings, animals, birds, and aquatic creatures. You appear as Vāmana, Paraśurāma, Rāma, Varāha, Matsya, Kūrma, and in many other forms. The celestial Gaṅgā of Your pastimes flows upon the earth. Its mighty current breaks and carries away the mountain of the arrogant person's pride, while its waves, which remove the threefold miseries, bathe the virtuous.

"O infinite Lord, Bhagavān, indwelling witness, master of yoga, who can explain why You, the Lord, ruler, and all-pervading abode of inconceivable power, take birth in seemingly ordinary forms among gods, sages, animals, and others? Who in the three worlds knows where, why, when, or how many times You expand Your inconceivable power of Yogamāyā and perform Your play? Who is capable of knowing this, Master? No one can give its full account.

"Because of the inconceivable majesty of Your Yogamāyā, this visible universe, unreal in nature, dreamlike, bewildering to the intellect, and filled with endless suffering, seems real through Your existence, although it repeatedly arises and dissolves by Māyā within You, the unlimited foundation whose nature is eternity, consciousness, and bliss. In truth, You alone are real. You are the Supreme Self, the primeval Person, self-luminous, infinite, beginningless, eternal, imperishable, filled with unbroken bliss, stainless, independent, nondual, free of limiting conditions, and immortal.

"Those who realize this nature of Yours receive the divine sight of true knowledge from the sunlike spiritual teacher. They experience You, the Self of every being, as their own most beloved self. For them, only You remain in place of the limited 'I,' and they effortlessly cross the unreal ocean of worldly existence as though it were the water collected in a calf's hoofprint.

"For those who do not rightly know the Self, ignorance alone projects this entire display of 'I' and 'mine' upon the body and other things. Once knowledge arises, that appearance ends forever. When a rope is mistaken for a snake, one sees its hood and all its other features. Once the error ceases and the rope is seen as it is, neither the snake nor its hood remains. In the same way, this world made of 'I' and 'mine' is only imagined. Bondage to worldly existence and liberation from it are merely two names fashioned by ignorance. They have no existence apart from the reality of the Self, whose nature is truth and knowledge, and therefore both are ultimately false.

"Within the sun itself there is neither day nor night. Likewise, upon examination, neither bondage nor liberation exists in the pure Self, whose nature is eternal knowledge and which transcends the world. In practical experience, the absence of sunlight is called night and its presence day. In the same way, the Self's nonmanifestation is bondage in 'I' and 'mine,' while its manifestation is liberation. Thus only the ignorant can be said to cross the false world. Still, while the darkness of ignorance remains, worldly bondage also remains and must be ended by the light of knowledge.

"Yet how astonishing is the conduct of ignorant beings! You are their supremely beloved Self, but they consider You foreign. The body and other things are always foreign to them, yet they take these to be the self and then set out to search for the Self outside. How can they find You? Where will the Self's light appear to them, and how will their ignorance end? Therefore discriminating saints who follow the path of knowledge take another way. They seek You, the Self of all, within themselves in nondual identity. They abandon as unreal and insubstantial everything that appears apart from You. What use have they for anything that does not reveal You? Their method is proper, Lord, for only in this way can they know You. Although no snake is actually present in a rope, even a discerning person who mistakes it for one cannot recognize the real rope lying close at hand without first negating and abandoning the false appearance of the snake."

To those who do not know Your path, You spread Māyā and appear within the nonself as though You were the individual self. At creation You appear as I, at preservation as Yourself, and at the end as the three-eyed Lord. O Lord, though unborn, You take birth among gods, sages, human beings, animals, and aquatic creatures to subdue the pride of the wicked and show grace to the saintly.

O infinite Bhagavān, Supreme Self and master of yoga, who in the three worlds can know where, how, how many times, or when You expand Yogamāyā and perform Your play? Therefore this entire universe, unreal in nature, dreamlike, bewildering to the intellect, and filled with abundant suffering, nevertheless seems real because it arises through Māyā within You, the infinite embodiment of eternal bliss and consciousness.

You alone are the Self, the primeval Person, truth, self-luminous, infinite, original, eternal, imperishable, ever-blissful, stainless, complete, nondual, free from limiting conditions, and immortal. Those who receive the excellent eye of the Upaniṣads from the sunlike guru behold You as the Self of all selves and as their own Self. They cross the unreal ocean of worldly existence as though it were nothing.

For those who do not know the Self as the Self, the whole projected world arises from that ignorance. Through knowledge it again dissolves, just as the snake's body and its arising and disappearance dissolve when the rope is known. Bondage and liberation are merely two names belonging to ignorance. They have no other existence when the one supreme and eternally conscious Self is examined, just as day and night have no existence within the sun.

How astonishing is the ignorance of people who consider You, the supreme Self, to be other and then search for the Self outside. O infinite Lord, saints seek You within by abandoning whatever is unreal. Without negating the nonexistent snake, how can discriminating persons reach the real rope that lies within it?

Those of dull and ignorant minds do not know You as the Supreme Lord. They say that Brahmā, Viṣṇu, and Śiva together create, preserve, and destroy the world, for Your light has not arisen within them. You alone assume forms among gods, sages, animals, and aquatic beings, including Matsya, to shatter the pride of the fierce and arrogant. O source of bliss, Nanda's son, You employ profound Māyā to bless the saintly and preserve the bridge of dharma. O abode of mercy, bestow Your grace.

Who can fully behold the Lord's play or sing the ocean of His qualities? Again and again You assume many forms to protect Your servants. No being in the three worlds can describe Your qualities and pastimes or say how, when, how often, and where You fashion Your delightful manifestations.

The Vedas call this entire unreal world dreamlike. It holds not a trace of happiness but constant grief and great suffering. It arises from You and dissolves within You. It seems real but is not, Lord, and is a mass of sorrow. It appears eternal but is not eternal, appears pleasant but brings pain to all, and seems conscious though it has no consciousness. It consists of many marvelous imaginings. You, Hari, are real, yet what You have fashioned in many forms pleases everyone by appearing real.

You alone are truth, O son of Nanda, the Self and support of all. You are the primeval Person, fulfilled in every desire, distinct from the entire world and eternally beautiful. You are eternal, beginningless, a mass of bliss, imperishable, immortal, immutable, indestructible, stainless, self-luminous, free from limitations, and incomparable. A wise person whose mind rests in You sees You in this way. O son of Nanda, he beholds You, the beautiful Lord, in all moving and unmoving beings. Receiving from Hari in the form of the guru the sunlight of the divine eye proclaimed by the Vedas, he sees with that eye the one skillful Self, and the whole world seems to dissolve for him.

Then the world that once captivated his mind no longer appears real. He had seen a terrifying snake in a cord, but upon recognizing the rope he became happy. Contemplating bondage, liberation, birth, and death, he had been terrified and miserable. Once he understands, sorrow departs and no fault or grief remains. The pure and conscious Self is incomparable and forever one in nature. Bondage and liberation never belong to it, did not arise in the past, and will never arise. As the snake in the rope is not real, pleasure and pain do not belong to the Self. The sun is always one in nature, though people speak of its rising and setting. Bondage and liberation resemble night and day, and both are rooted in ignorance.

Foolish people intoxicated with possessiveness take the body to be the Self. They search outside for the Self and fail to see the One who pervades every heart, forever mounted upon delusion. A fool loses an object at home but searches for it deep in the forest. Tell me, how will he find it, even if he exhausts himself in the attempt? A rare wise person searches within the body, abandoning identification with matter. He negates the snake, and knowledge of the rope quickly arises. In the same way, knowledge alone is the means to liberation. There is no other path, O wise one.

Thus, kindling the radiance of his lamp of knowledge, Brahmā seemed to offer ārati to the prince of Vraja. His gaze then returned to the moonlike nails of Nanda's son's feet, and a wondrous light filled his eyes. His inner being was again flooded by the pure current of devotion. The creator's majestic discourse on knowledge sank into that current, and the flame of knowledge dissolved within its tenderness, declaring:

"The tenderness of devotion is my mother. As it grows ever more concentrated, it absorbs me into itself again. To grant devotees the opportunity for uninterrupted service to Śrī Kṛṣṇa's lotus feet according to their own loving moods, devotion conceals me beneath its veil. Even those who desire me only to know the truth of Bhagavān's glory through my light must immerse themselves in devotion's tender current. Otherwise they cannot attain me."

Brahmā's outward speech revealed a portion of this truth: "O Deva, O Bhagavān, it is true that the world born of ignorance is destroyed the instant knowledge arises. Yet only one who has been moistened by a drop of grace from Your two lotus feet, who has received even a particle of Your merciful favor, can know something of the truth of Your infinite and boundless glory. One who has not received Your grace may practice the disciplines of knowledge, become established in renunciation, and perform yoga. He may be counted among those who have reached the highest perfection of these paths and may continue his inquiry by personal effort throughout a long life, yet he cannot attain true knowledge of Your glory. Without Your grace, no one can know the truth of Your majesty, Lord."

Yet, O Deva, only one favored by even a trace of grace from Your two lotus feet can know the truth of Your glory, Bhagavān. No other person can know it, even after searching for a very long time.

O Lord, if even a trace of the nectarean grace of Your lovely lotus feet should ever reach someone, only then can that person rightly attain the truth of Your glory.

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Although knowledge removes fear, happiness comes in this way alone: someone in this world must receive a trace of grace from Your lotus feet. The person upon whom that favor descends can know the truth. Without receiving the grace of Your lotus feet, one may strive intensely with full concentration, but true knowledge will never arise, no matter how skillful one becomes.

While singing this glory of devotion, the creator himself longed for it to become firmly established within him, not so that he might know the truth of the prince of Vraja's glory, but so that he might gain the right to serve His tender feet. This was not within Brahmā's control. It could happen only if Nīlasundara, overcome by compassion, said, "So be it." What path was there except to pray to Him?

Again the king of all the gods prayed, yearning as he beheld the majesty of devotion.

With an eager voice Brahmā offered his desire: "Lord, may I receive that great fortune, whether in this body of Brahmā or, after abandoning it, in any birth among animals, birds, insects, or bees. O Deva, may I surely be granted the immense good fortune of becoming even one servant among Your servants and then remaining forever engaged in service to Your tender lotus feet.

"Master, the bee that offers itself at Your lotus feet is far superior to me. A calf may be an animal, but it has the fortune of licking Your divine limbs. I am so unfortunate that I cannot compare even with that animal. Fortunate birds such as parrots and cuckoos increase Your delight by singing in sweet voices. Before those flocks of birds, my rank as Brahmā is contemptible, trivial, and without substance. These freshly sprouted, tender blades of grass give their soft touch to the soles of Your feet. Blessed is that row of grass. Bhagavān, what value do I have beside these plant beings? Therefore, compassionate Lord, grant me this small mercy and hear my plea. Whether in this birth or, after leaving it, in a birth as an animal, bird, insect, moth, bee, tree, shrub, or vine, in whatever species it may be possible, grant me there the good fortune of serving Your tender lotus feet, treasure of mercy."

Lord, may I obtain that abundant fortune, whether in this birth, another birth, or even among animals, by which I may become one among Your servants and serve Your tender lotus feet.

O Lord, if the nectar of tender compassion flows from You, then grant this to me: in this birth or another, in a human birth or an animal birth, may I become something among Your devotees and touch those lotus feet.

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If in another birth I take some animal form according to the destination ordained for me, may I receive a body among Your servants and become a servant of Your servants.

The mood of true devotees, the lifelong longing of lovers who have offered everything to Vrajendra's son Śrī Kṛṣṇacandra, surged within the river of Brahmā's devotion-filled heart. Indeed, when the right to serve Śrī Kṛṣṇa begins to awaken in someone's life, only this single desire remains:

Whether made human, animal, or bird, or born as an insect or moth, though the results of karma bring birth and death again and again, may my mind remain absorbed in You.