Ecstasy, devotees as warriors over death
Original Marathi from the Tukaram Gatha · About Sant Tukaram
मराठी मूळ
भक्तिसुखें जे मातले । ते किळकाळा शूर जाले॥1॥
हातीं बाण हरिनामाचे । वीर गर्जती विठ्ठलाचे ॥ध्रु.॥
महां दोषां आला त्रास । जन्ममरणां केला नाश ॥2॥
सहस्रनामाची आरोळी। एक एकाहूनि बळी ॥3॥
नाहीं आणिकांचा गुमान । ज्याचें अंकित त्यावांचून ॥4॥
तुका ह्मणे त्यांच्या घरीं । मोक्षसिद्धी या कामारी॥5॥ ॥3॥
Tukaram Gatha (Marathi Wikisource)
English Translation
Those who are intoxicated with the joy of devotion have become heroes who have conquered death itself. With arrows of Hari's name in hand, the warriors of Vitthal roar in triumph. Great sins have been driven out in terror; birth and death have been destroyed. The battle cry of a thousand names rings out, each devotee mightier than the last. They heed no other power except the One to whom they belong. Says Tuka, in their homes, liberation and all attainments serve as household servants.
We ask forgiveness for any inaccuracies in rendering Tukaram ji’s original Marathi.
In Plain Words
Those drunk on the joy of devotion have become heroes over death. With arrows of Hari's name in hand, the warriors of Vitthal roar. Great sins fled in terror; birth and death were destroyed. The war-cry of the thousand names goes up, each one mightier than the last. They care for no other power; they are stamped with one alone and no other. Tuka says: in their houses, liberation and all powers wait as serving maids.
What it means
Tukaram casts the joyful devotees as soldiers and the Name as their weapon. Intoxicated with bhakti, they become heroes who defeat death itself; the thousand names of God are their war-cry, sins flee, and the cycle of birth and death is broken. They answer to no power but the one God whose mark they bear. The claim he lands is the boldest: liberation, the prize ascetics strain for, and all the great attainments are mere household servants in the devotee's home, because love of the Name already holds everything they could grant.
Ecstasy and Joy
Triumphant happiness: poems written from the far side of the struggle.
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