Arati, Shiva of the cremation ground
Original Marathi from the Tukaram Gatha · About Sant Tukaram
मराठी मूळ
परिधान व्याघ्रांबर चिदाभस्मलेपना । स्मशान क्रीडास्थळ तुह्मा जी त्रिनयना ॥1॥
जय देवा हरेश्वरा जय पार्वतीवरा। आरती ओंवािळन कैवल्यदातारा । जय. ॥ध्रु.॥
रुद्र हें नाम तुह्मां उग्र संहारासी । शंकर शिव भोळा उदार सर्वस्वीं ।
उदक बेलपत्र टाळी वाहिल्या देसी । आपुलें पद दासां ठाव देई कैलासीं ॥2॥
त्रैलोक्यव्यापका हो जन आणि विजन । विराटस्वरूप हें तुझें साजिरें ध्यान ।
करितो वेद स्तुती कीर्ती मुखें आपण । जाणतां नेणवे हो तुमचें महिमान ॥3॥
बोलतां नाम महिमा असे आश्चर्य जगीं । उपदेश केल्यानंतरें पापें पळती वेगीं ।
हरहर वाणी गर्जे प्रेम संचरे अंगीं । राहिलि दृष्टी चरणीं रंग मीनला रंगीं ॥4॥
पुजूनि लिंग उभा तुका जोडोनी हात। करिती विज्ञापना परिसावी हे मात ।
अखंड राहूं द्यावें माझें चरणीं चित्त । घातले साष्टांग मागे मस्तकीं हात ॥5॥
अवतारनामभेद गणा आदि अगाद । जयासि पार नाहीं पुढें खुंटला वाद ।
Tukaram Gatha (Marathi Wikisource)
English Translation
Clad in a tiger skin, smeared with the ash of pure consciousness, the cremation ground is your playground, O three-eyed one. Victory to you, Hareshwara, husband of Parvati; we wave the lamp before you, giver of liberation. Rudra is your name for fierce destruction, yet Shankara and Shiva you are called, generous and guileless with all you possess. Offer but water and a bilva leaf and you grant your own abode; you give your servants a place in Kailasa. O pervader of the three worlds, present in the peopled and the desolate, your cosmic form is a beautiful vision for meditation. The Vedas sing your praise, yet even they cannot fathom your greatness. Wondrous is the power of your name in this world; after initiation, sins flee in haste. When the tongue cries 'Hara, Hara,' love surges through the body, the gaze settles at your feet, and one merges into that color entirely. Says Tuka, standing before the Linga with hands joined: let my mind remain unbroken at your feet. I lay myself down in full prostration and ask only for your hand upon my head.
We ask forgiveness for any inaccuracies in rendering Tukaram ji’s original Marathi.
In Plain Words
Clothed in a tiger skin, smeared with the ash of pure awareness, the cremation ground is your playground, three-eyed one. Victory to you, Hareshwara, victory, husband of Parvati; we wave the lamp before you, giver of liberation, victory. Rudra is your name for fierce destruction, yet you are called Shankara and Shiva, the simple one, open-handed with all you have. Offer only water and a bilva leaf with a clap, and you give your own state; you grant your servants a place in Kailasa. Pervading the three worlds, present in the crowd and in the wilderness; your vast cosmic form is a beautiful thing to meditate on. The Vedas themselves sing your praise, yet knowing, they still do not know your greatness. The glory of speaking your name is a wonder in the world; once initiated, sins flee in a hurry. When the tongue roars "Hara, Hara," love floods the body, the gaze stays at your feet, and color merges into color. Tuka stands before the Linga with hands joined, worshipping, and makes his plea: hear this word. Let my mind stay unbroken at your feet. I have laid myself out flat in full prostration, my hand on my head, asking yours.
What it means
This arati praises Shiva by holding his two faces together: the fierce Rudra of destruction, ash-smeared, tiger-clad, at home in the cremation ground, and the open-handed Shankara who is famously easy to please. Tukaram makes the contrast the heart of the poem: this terrible god gives his very own state for nothing more than water, a bilva leaf, and a clap of devotion, and seats his servants in Kailasa. He is at once the cosmic form pervading crowd and wilderness, beyond what even the Vedas can fathom, and the name that, once received, sends sins fleeing. The decisive turn is felt rather than reasoned: when the tongue roars "Hara, Hara," love floods the body and the seer dissolves into what he beholds, color merging into color. Tukaram closes in plain bodily surrender, prostrate before the Linga, asking only that his mind stay fixed at the feet and that Shiva's hand rest on his bowed head.
Devotion to Vitthal
Poems of praise, invocation, and intimate address to Lord Vitthal at Pandharpur.
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