Arati, the adorned child of Nanda
Original Marathi from the Tukaram Gatha · About Sant Tukaram
मराठी मूळ
झळकति दिव्य तेजें दंत माज पातळ । मिरवलिं मयोरपत्रें मुगुट कुंडलें माळ ॥1॥
जय देवा जगदीश्वरा । धन्य रखुमाईवरा । आरती करीन काया । ओंवािळन सुंदरा । जय. ॥ध्रु.॥
गोजिरें ठाणमाण भुजा मंडित चारी । शोभति शंखचक्रगदापद्म मोहरी ।
हृदयीं ब्रह्मपद बाणलें शृंगारीं । गर्जति चरणीं वांकी कंठ कोकिळास्वरीं ॥2॥
घवघवित उटी अंगीं बावन चंदनांची । लल्हाट कस्तुरिचा कास पितांबरीची ।
कटिसूत्र वरि साजिरें प्रभा वर मोतियांची। संगीत सकळ मुद्रा पाउलें कुंकुमाचीं ॥3॥
सौभाग्यसुख सागर गुणलावण्यखाणी । लाघवी दीनवत्सळ विश्व लाविलें ध्यानीं ।
आश्चर्य देव करिती ॠषि राहिले मुनि । धन्य ते प्रसवली ऐसिया नंदपत्नी ॥4॥
वणिनतां ध्यान महिमा श्रुति राहिल्या नेति । रविकोटि चंद्र तारा प्रकाशा न तुळती ।
उदार सुर गंभीर पूर्ण आनंदमूतिन । तुकयाबंधु ह्मणे स्तवूं मी काय किती ॥5॥
महा जी महादेवा महाकाळमदनना । मांडियेलें उग्रतप महादीप्त दारुणा ।
Tukaram Gatha (Marathi Wikisource)
English Translation
Your divine teeth gleam with radiant light between delicate lips; peacock feathers, crown, earrings, and garlands adorn you. Victory to you, lord of the world, blessed husband of Rakhumai; I offer my body as a lamp and wave it before your beautiful form. Your graceful stance and four adorned arms bear conch, disc, mace, and lotus in splendor. The mark of Brahman shines upon your decorated chest. Anklets chime at your feet and your throat sings with the sweetness of a cuckoo. Fragrant sandal paste of fifty-two kinds graces your body; a tilak of musk adorns your forehead, a yellow silk cloth wraps your waist. A jeweled waist-chain gleams with the luster of pearls. Every ornament is complete; your feet bear the mark of kumkum. You are the ocean of auspicious joy, a mine of grace and beauty, playful and tender to the lowly, drawing the whole world into meditation. The gods are astonished and the sages stand still in wonder. Blessed is Nanda's wife who gave birth to such a one. Says Tukayabandhu, the Vedas halt at 'not this'; a million suns and moons and stars cannot match your radiance. Generous, deep, and perfect, you are the complete form of bliss; how much more can I praise you?.
We ask forgiveness for any inaccuracies in rendering Tukaram ji’s original Marathi.
In Plain Words
Your divine teeth gleam with light between delicate lips; peacock feathers, crown, earrings, and garland shine upon you. Victory to you, lord of the world, blessed husband of Rakhumai; I make my body the arati and wave it before you, lovely one, victory. A graceful stance, four adorned arms bearing conch, disc, mace, and lotus in beauty; the seat of Brahman shines on your decorated chest. Anklets ring at your feet; your throat sings sweet as a cuckoo. Glistening sandal paste of fifty-two kinds covers your body; a musk tilak on your forehead, a yellow silk cloth at your waist. A lovely waist-chain above it, bright with the luster of pearls; every ornament complete, your feet marked with kumkum. Ocean of fortune and joy, mine of virtue and beauty; playful and tender to the lowly, you have drawn the whole world into meditation. The gods stand astonished, the sages stand still in wonder; blessed is Nanda's wife, who gave birth to such a one. Trying to speak your glory, the Vedas stop at "not this"; a million suns, moons, and stars cannot match your light. Generous, deep, the full form of bliss; Tukayabandhu says: how much can I praise you, and how far?
What it means
This arati lingers, ornament by ornament, on the adorned form of God as Nanda's child: the peacock feathers and crown, the four arms with their emblems, the sandal paste, musk tilak, yellow silk, and kumkum-marked feet. The loving detail is the worship; Tukaram is doing with words what the lamp does with light. But each thread of beauty points beyond itself: the same lovely body is the ocean of fortune, the mine of virtue, the one whose radiance a million suns cannot match. He marks the wonder this stirs, gods astonished and sages stilled, and blesses Yashoda, Nanda's wife, for bearing such a one. The poem keeps the tenderness, calling him playful and gentle to the lowly even at cosmic scale. Signing as Tukayabandhu, he ends by admitting that praise has no measure that can hold this.
Devotion to Vitthal
Poems of praise, invocation, and intimate address to Lord Vitthal at Pandharpur.
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