Achyutashtakam by Shridharavenkatesha

By my natural impulse to speak, I worship You, O Lord Acyuta; yet it is You who remove the multitude of my sins, driven by Your own desire to protect. You are indeed called the remover of sins, while I am the one who proclaims Your fame—so what connection can my humble words have with You?

The son of Sāndīpani, dead long ago and surrendered to the house of death, was brought back by You to the presence of his parents. Such is the fame of Kṛṣṇa. O Lord named Śrīkṛṣṇa, how is it that the sage's son did not worship You with his tongue at that very moment?

The thievery of Hari and His paramour-like conduct—all this, when narrated, serves to destroy all sins. O Madhumathana, this glory of Yours is thus illuminated by the one who speaks of it as she wanders, O Kṛṣṇa. Indeed, this is Your own divine play.

In the assembly, fearing the stripping of Draupadī’s garment, You held her cloth by her prayers, making that garment of hers as thin as it was in that state. You then spread forth a mountain-like mass of garments. O mother, O Govinda, tell me—where did You obtain such a vast heap of cloth?

O mother, the wise declare that you, who hold upon your tongue the Lord named Acyuta, are worthy of worship by Brahmā and others. Yet that same devotee bows down to horses, cows, dogs, and the like. Indeed, strange is the path of Your devotees!

O mother, named Murabhid, the sole river Gāṅgā arose from the lotus feet of the disc‑bearing Lord for the sake of those who take refuge. Yet that single drop of foot‑water transforms all rivers in the world, from the Gāṅgā to the Godāvarī and others.

Not seeing Garuḍa nearby, the Lord named Acyuta, with His lotus hand violently shaken, was swiftly brought by You to rescue the king of elephants. O mother, tell me—without You, by whom and what would have happened then?

Because I praise You, O protector of the feet of the Lord who appears in three yugas, there is no loss to Your glory, while my gain becomes infinite. Even a dog can make the divine river Gāṅgā an object of play—so what is this state? Yet that dog is instantly filled with sorrow.