First I bow to Panduranga, then to the feet of the saints. By their gift of grace, this narrative expands. Tuka is the servant of the Sadguru Babaji. Will my words find favor with the saints? Let me at least please my own chitta. May this mind be seized by the passion of Hari's Name, the love of singing of Govinda. I am weary from the toil of worldly life; this body has been cooled by the Name. No comparison exists for this happiness. The formless has taken form. Wherever the chanting of the Name resounds, wherever the cry of 'Victory!' is heard, God runs to that place. What urgency can there be other than singing the glories of Hari? All other efforts are the root of sorrow. The pride of power and kingdom is the root of hell; it makes God distant. One who slanders the Name is as far from God as a tick is from milk. This is the beautiful road to Vaikuntha: the procession of Rama Krishna's story, with banners and flags. The wise have taught us: bar the door against the wandering mind. People know this, yet they become blind. The sorrow of sense-pleasures grips them. They have not freed themselves from wealth, greed, and illusion; they carry the staff and ashes, resting in the shade of a tree. One whose mind is fixed on wife, children, and relatives, know that such a one is not liberated. Whether knowing or unknowing, sing the story of Hari; you will surely be saved. This is my solemn word. I have experienced it myself. There has been no greater wrongdoer than I. Others at least performed some spiritual practice; I had nothing but kirtan. The devotee need not worry about filling his belly; God Himself takes care of it. God follows behind His devotee, watching his steps, dropping His yellow garment and stumbling in His haste. Why do these people remain frozen, stuck in place? This wonder amazes me. He who made stones float across the ocean, contemplate Him within your chitta, my Lord. He liberated my very soul. Such is Narayana, the compassionate One. This is my vow, this is my dharma: the Name of Vitthoba always on my lips. The fire of the three afflictions has been kindled, but the Name of Rama makes it cool. Take courage, O mind; hold firm. Shri Hari, our parent, will save us. This Father is gracious to His faithful devotees; He becomes a servant in their homes. He carries their burden on His own head, for those who have given Him their whole being. Without devotion, He cannot be attained; so the Puranas declare. Whoever loves to hear His story will never enter the womb again. If one must enter the womb, let it be as a servant of Vishnu, to uplift the world and be honored. Such souls become the darlings of God's own chitta, His cherished talismans; the Lord never parts from them for a moment. There is no duality, no sorrow or anxiety; Vaikuntha dwells wherever they are. God resides there at all times, where they chant His Name in purity. Their wealth never diminishes, even at the end of time; through devotion they have won God Himself. Blessed are they who, having come into this world, have made God their debtor through devotion. What madness has seized these foolish folk? Have they forgotten Narayana? Those who have forgotten Him have suffered a great blow, ground through the eighty-four lakh species. Though taught, none of them feels any shame; the allure of wealth tastes too sweet. There is one sweetness that never palls: Govinda. All other passions are perishable. Feel some urgency for Him. Why do you sleep, headed for drowning? These people have no fear of Yama; they have thrown away their single greatest treasure. King Janaka, not knowing, once thrust his foot into fire. Those who endured hunger, thirst, and hardship, did they lack hands and feet? Yet they did not make their worldly life a comfortable settlement; they strove to cut through mountains of sorrow. Devotion to God is possible only in this human birth; there is no other wisdom anywhere. There is no resting place ahead without returning to this village once more. To speak of all this would take many days; therefore hold God within your chitta. Grasp the feet of the saints with all your life; they never suffer separation from God. God has no desire for any other pleasure. The love of the Name is all He craves. I speak only the leftovers of those saints; the truth was told by Vyasa and others. Vyasa taught the path of devotion to cross the ocean of worldly existence. For the deliverance of people, the Bhagavata was composed: the cowherds, the gopis, devotees, mothers, and fathers. Saving them all, He carried them across in one stroke, using the pretext of feigned anger. The saints know the secret of saving their devotees: as a mother protects her infant, sheltering the hungry child. The hungry, thirsty child cries out again and again, and the mother, knowing its needs without being asked, responds. Knowing the secret, God ran at the mere words of Draupadi. He runs as a cow runs to her calf; so does Narayana run to His devotees. Blessed beyond measure is the fortune of one whose soul yearns for Narayana. The joy given to such a one has no end: the Name of Rama always on the lips. The two syllables of Rama's Name are the supreme and excellent; Shiva and Parvati themselves taught them. Vishwanath whispers the teaching into the ear of every being who dies at Varanasi. If at the moment of death one says 'Rama,' one need not go to the city of Yama. Such a jiva receives the finest place in Vaikuntha, where the Name dwells in the chitta at all times. God dwells forever in the homes of the Vaishnavas; He does not stay still for a moment elsewhere. Do not search anywhere else; do the story of Hari, and He will appear suddenly. God is caught in the hands of the simple and faithful; the clever may die trying and still not find Him. Nothing good comes without devotion. Ego, the sinful one, is the great deceiver. God says, 'I have been tricked by My own devotees. The profit went to the people, and I was the one outwitted.' That one alone is God; there is no other. Janardana is present in all four mines of creation. He fills all creation and remains within; there is no space left to describe Him. There is no place empty of God. Such is the testimony of saints and scripture. The great ones spoke and went ahead. To go against their words is to be deceived. The deceiver does not understand the meaning of the Vedas; enslaved by the sense of difference, he remains trapped. Enslaved to his belly, to wealth, and to pride, he is therefore cut off from God. Even the twice-born caste has been estranged from God. What chance then for others? Scholars and debaters who argue and slander will never see God, even if they complete all the six prescribed duties. But one who is without those duties yet carries Rama's Name on his lips, God will embrace and walk alongside. God loves the simple and faithful; He purifies even the excluded and honors them. If you do not believe these words, if you think chanting the Name is too simple a method, consider that the scriptures themselves fell silent, saying 'not this, not this,' their logic exhausted. They could not reach the end of His mystery. Even Brahma and the gods could only glimpse His feet. What madness of devotion has seized this God? He becomes whatever His devotee desires. He becomes both with form and formless, to satisfy the longing of His beloved. Like a child who speaks lisping, loving words and makes a sulky face to his father, so does God respond. Like a patron who fulfills the supplicant's needs, He remains the protector at all times. Weapons, armies, and allies are useless for eternal protection. He shows His might to those who show theirs, sending wave after wave of wrath against wrath. Anger has no death; it subsides only through peace. For the good, the measure is goodness. The three gunas, sattva, rajas, and tamas, are themselves destroyed when one practices devotion to Vitthoba. When the mind is steeped in devotion, it becomes pure consciousness itself. What then is lacking for the experience of the inner bliss? The ocean of bliss stands upon the brick. He alone bestows the gift of grace. Let us fix our minds upon Vitthoba's feet alone; nothing more is needed for us. Let us do Hari's kirtan, the samadhi of happiness. All other counsel is wicked and destructive. Worldly existence, delusion, and maya are destroyed. Go, take refuge in Vitthoba. The saints taught me, a fool, and I have remained firm in their words. I remain firm at Vitthoba's feet. Says Tuka, nothing more is needed now.

First I bow to Panduranga, then to the feet of the saints. By their grace this telling grows. Tuka is the servant of the Sadguru Babaji. Will my words please the saints? Let me at least gladden my own heart. May this mind be seized by love of Hari's Name, the joy of singing Govinda. I was worn out by the toil of the world; this body has been cooled by the Name. There is no comparison for this joy. The formless has taken form. Wherever the Name resounds, wherever the cry of victory is heard, God runs to that place. What hurry is there but to sing Hari's praise? Every other effort is the root of sorrow. The pride of power and kingdom is the root of hell; it pushes God far off. One who slanders the Name is as far from God as a tick is from milk. This is the lovely road to Vaikuntha: the procession of the Rama Krishna story, with banners and flags. The wise have taught us to bar the door against the wandering mind. People know this, yet they go blind; the sorrow of the senses grips them. They have not freed themselves from wealth, greed, and illusion; they carry the staff and ashes and rest in the shade of a tree. One whose mind is fixed on wife, children, and kin, know that one is not free. Whether you know or do not know, sing the story of Hari; you will surely be saved. This is my solemn word. I have learned it on myself. There has been no greater wrongdoer than I. Others did at least some practice; I had nothing but kirtan. The devotee need not worry about his belly; God himself sees to it. God follows behind his devotee, watching his steps, dropping his yellow garment and stumbling in his haste. Why do these people stay frozen in place? This wonder amazes me. He who made stones float across the sea, hold him within your heart, my Lord. He set my very soul free. Such is Narayana, the compassionate one. This is my vow, this is my dharma: the Name of Vithoba always on my lips. The fire of the three afflictions has been lit, and the Name of Rama makes it cool. Take courage, my mind; hold firm. Shri Hari, our mother and father, will save us. This Father is kind to his faithful; he becomes a servant in their homes. He carries their burden on his own head, for those who have given him their whole being. Without devotion he is not won; so the Puranas say. Whoever loves to hear his story will not enter the womb again. If he must enter the womb, let it be as a servant of Vishnu, to lift up the world and be honored. Such souls are the darlings of God's heart, his cherished talismans; the Lord never leaves them for a moment. There is no division there, no sorrow, no fear; Vaikuntha lives wherever they are. God stays there always, where they chant his Name in purity. Their wealth does not run out, even at the end of time; through devotion they have won God himself. Blessed are they who, coming into this world, have made God their debtor through devotion. What madness has seized these foolish folk? Have they forgotten Narayana? Those who forgot him suffered a great loss, ground through the eighty-four lakh wombs. Though taught, none feels any shame; the taste of wealth is too sweet. There is one sweetness that never palls: Govinda. Every other passion perishes. Feel some longing for him. Why do you sleep while you head toward drowning? These people have no fear of Yama; they have thrown away their one great treasure. King Janaka, not knowing, once thrust his foot into fire. Those who bore hunger, thirst, and blows, did they lack hands and feet? They did not turn the world into a soft settlement; they strove to cut through mountains of sorrow. Devotion to God is possible only in this human birth; there is no other wisdom anywhere. There is no resting place ahead without coming back to this village again. To say all of it would take many days; so hold God in your heart. Grasp the feet of the saints with all your life; they are never parted from God. God wants no other pleasure; he craves only the love of his Name. I speak only the leavings of those saints; the truth was told by Vyasa and the rest. Vyasa taught the path of devotion, to cross the ocean of the world. For the saving of people the Bhagavata was made: the cowherds, the gopis, the devotees, the mothers and fathers. He carried them all across in one stroke, using feigned anger as the pretext. The saints know the secret of saving devotees: as a mother shelters her hungry infant. The hungry child cries out again and again, and the mother, knowing its need without being asked, comes. Knowing the secret, God ran at the mere words of Draupadi. He runs as a cow runs to her calf; so does Narayana run to his devotees. Blessed beyond measure is the fortune of one whose soul yearns for Narayana. The joy given to such a one has no end: the Name of Rama always on the lips. The two syllables of Rama's Name are the best; Shiva and Parvati themselves taught them. Vishwanath whispers the teaching into the ear of every being who dies at Varanasi. If at the end one says Rama, that one need not go to the city of Yama. That soul gets the finest place in Vaikuntha, where the Name lives in the heart always. God lives forever in the homes of the Vaishnavas; he does not rest a moment anywhere else. Do not search elsewhere; do the story of Hari, and he will appear all at once. God is caught in the hands of the simple and faithful; the clever may die trying and still not find him. Nothing good comes without devotion. Ego, the sinful one, is the great robber. God says, I have been tricked by my own devotees; the profit went to them, and I was the one outwitted. That one alone is God; there is no other. Janardana is present in all four kinds of birth. He fills all creation and stays within; there is no room left to describe him. There is no place empty of God. So speak the saints and the scriptures. The great ones spoke and went on ahead. To go against their words is to be deceived. The deceiver does not grasp the meaning of the Vedas; enslaved to difference, he stays trapped. A slave to his belly, to wealth, and to pride, he is cut off from God. Even the twice-born has been estranged from God; what chance then for others? Scholars and debaters who argue and slander will never see God, even if they finish all six prescribed duties. But one who lacks those duties, yet carries Rama's Name on his lips, God will embrace and walk beside. God loves the simple and faithful; he purifies even the outcaste and honors him. If you do not believe these words, if you think the Name too easy a way, remember that the scriptures themselves fell silent, saying not this, not this, their logic spent. They could not reach the end of his mystery. Even Brahma and the gods could only glimpse his feet. What madness of love has seized this God? He becomes whatever his devotee wants. He becomes both with form and formless, to satisfy his beloved's longing. Like a child who lisps loving words and pulls a sulky face at his father, so God answers. Like a giver who meets the beggar's need, he is the protector at all times. Weapons, armies, and allies are useless for lasting safety. He shows his might to those who show theirs, sending wave on wave of wrath against wrath. Anger does not die; it stills only through peace. For the good, the measure is goodness. The three gunas, sattva, rajas, and tamas, are themselves destroyed when one does devotion to Vithoba. When the mind is steeped in devotion, it becomes pure consciousness itself. What then is lacking for the bliss within? The ocean of bliss stands on the brick. He alone gives the gift of grace. Let us fix our minds on Vithoba's feet alone; nothing more is needed for us. Let us do Hari's kirtan, the samadhi of joy; all other counsel is wicked and ruins. The world, the snare of people, and maya are destroyed. Go, take refuge in Vithoba. The saints taught me, a fool, and I have held firm to their word. Tuka says: I stand firm at Vithoba's feet; nothing more is needed now.