Atimanushastavah

May there be prosperity. Salutations to the glorious Hayagrīva. Salutations to the glorious Rāmānuja.

We meditate upon the pearls of holy hymns, which are marked by the Śrīvatsa symbol, and whose utterances, when placed upon the neck of the three Vedas, become a garland of auspiciousness.

I seek that superhuman and glorious incarnation of Viṣṇu, whose nature, conduct, dress, and deeds are beyond human, whose prowess and splendor surpass even the gods, and who transcends all parity with any being in the universe.

May those rays—which are like the streams of nectar flowing from the lotus feet of the Supreme Lord, the abode of auspiciousness, and which are known as the "honey of the Vedas"—shower blessings upon me.

Having effortlessly attained the flood of loving emotion that arises from dwelling in the heart of the great sage Parāṅkuśa, I now ever raise aloft the lotus feet of Śrīraṅgarāja, who is still deeply immersed in that continuous flow of love.

We take refuge in the pair of feet of Śrīraṅgin, whose radiant crown from head to lotus foot is adorned with the marks of the thunderbolt, flag, goad, nectar-pot, umbrella, and lotus, and whose feet are encircled by these auspicious emblems.

We bow to the feet of Śrīraṅgarāja, one of which, in the act of the three strides, measured the entire earth—even with its mountains—as if it were a mound of sand scattered with large pebbles, levelling the high and low.

O Lord, assuming the form of the divine boar, You took up the six full powers—knowledge, strength, lordship, valor, potency, and splendor—which had become manifest in the three ages, and in fourfold form, out of love, You graced Your devotee.

O Lord, because Your realm is the abode of exclusively auspicious qualities, free from any defect, and eternal, therefore it is declared as such in the scriptures. Yet this same realm is described as having a form that contradicts all worldly forms, and therefore it is said to be without words and without form.

Here, sound and other sense-objects are defective and within the range of the senses; You, whose power is the opposite of these, are beyond the senses. Hence, there is truly no sight of You, and for that very reason, speech and mind cannot reach You.

Since this is so, the means of approach to You cannot be attained by any finite means of knowledge, unless You, of Your own will, descend into births among mortals and immortals through Your playful mode of incarnation.

What kind of nature is this of Yours, O sole ocean of compassion? For the sake of even the most insignificant person—tiny in the midst of the egg of the universe, in a lowly region of ordinary beings—You, the all-doer, descended here and became visible to the eyes.

The one whom You rescued from even the greatest sin, who became purified by having Your foot-water on his head—You actually bowed to him and then asked him to choose a boon. Alas, Your play is marked by such extraordinary characteristics!

That Māyā of Yours, which is the accessory to Your play, is deluding—to which living being is it not? O Lord with the body of the man-lion, even Śiva, who is a part of Your tejas, become a śarabha (mythical beast) and then a moth (śalabha) in comparison.

O Lord, You made him (Rudra) Your very self in the act of dsetroying the three cities, and his arrow, empowed by Your śakti, became victorious. But in the sacrifice of Daksa, that same Rudra defeated You. Truly, in matters of subordinate entities, capricious movement is fitting.

As a young child lying on a banyan leaf with a very subtle body, You still fully support all the worlds. This superhuman power of Yours is unimaginable; why do You manifest it without disguise when You descend here?

What are the enumerations of Brahmā and Śiva in the list of those counted? Being the younger brother of Indra due to being a son of Aditi, taking birth in the Ikṣvāku and Yadu dynasties—alas, these are praiseworthy positions for the incomparable Supreme Abode!

The three worlds are created by You and are within Your belly; without You, how could this earth be obtained by begging? If You never strode across the middle of the universe, how could the Vedas be glorified by Your strides?

I ask something: When You were Rāma, by Your human simplicity You were overcome by the illusionary deer; then, distressed by separation from Sītā and not knowing its destiny, how could You have granted the supreme goal of Yourself to that deer?

If You are able to place even the bird Jaṭāyu, who was steadfast in the path of yoga and invincible, into the path of liberation while he was in the body of an animal, and You knew it, then why were You, who could not attain the goddess Sītā, so distressed and searching?

Without any shame, You shot seven sāla trees, mountains, the netherworlds, and other obstacles with arrows of slow speed. But then, how did Yoy make the monkey—who was exhausted by the pain of one such tree and pushed by the monkeys—your helper?

The lord of the monkeys who became Your servant and friend; him, that lord of monkeys, who in anger desired to kill the hostile monkey—You, seeing his mind troubled by love for You, instantly consoled him and then pierced the sāla trees and mountains.

Or perhaps, because You killed the deer while hunting, as a hunter along the path of the hunt, hidden, and not from a intention to kill an enemy—that is indeed fitting for You, O descendant of Raghu, for there is never any treatment of animals as opponents.

O Lord, when You set out to act out a human life, why did You perform deeds surpassing the gods? For instance, You built a bridge over the ocean with mountains pushed by troops of monkeys—such a deed is astonishing!

You defeated the great god Varuṇa with the prowess that adorned Your human birth, O unborn one; then You gave a dowry to Daśaratha and were praised by Brahmā, Rudra, and the other gods. But later You were conquered by Indrajit—how is this?

You did not cross the ocean, nor did you conquer the king of rākṣasas, nor did you even know his strength. Yet without hesitation, you immediately placed his younger brother Vibhīṣaṇa on his throne—how is this?

While dwelling on the shore of the southern ocean, far from the great island of the northern ocean, why did you not burn this Laṅkā to ashes, though you are here, making the demons consumed by your single arrows?

Tell me how it is that this ocean, being churned by You, abandoned its own well-known nature in the three worlds and transformed into the forms of a horse, apsaras, poison, nectar, the moon, the pārijāta tree, and lakṣmī.

O hero of the Raghus, seeing an enemy with such a great sin, You foolishly released him in battle saying, "Rest now!" Which virtue is this, in which of the categories, how great, and what praise does it deserve? Indeed, what is its ground?

That Lakṣmaṇa, Your younger brother, was deluded by the enemy's power, and the teacher of the enemy became inferior to Hanumān. By this, the delusion arising from the binding of the māyā-weapon of Indra's enemy was well known.

Alas, alas! When will the pair of Your lotus feet become the object of my eyes? I have wasted my time that was easily obtainable with trees and grass that pour out unbridled darkness.

Desiring to protect the dynasty of Raghu, You descended here and rained down showers of Your divine qualities. Just as trees, which experience coolness from Your presence, felt exhaustion during Your separation.

Those who never have the eligibility to practice dharma, learn yōga, or understand anything—they too, by the mere fragrance of the grounding principles enacted by You, transcend bondage and are led to the supreme goal, such as grass, etc.

Indeed, such were Your qualities in Your Rāma-hood; that Hanumān who daily enjoyed Your conduct, he here, indeed, rejected supreme liberation with his intellect and serves Your conduct instead.

Since You forgave the crow, who had committed a sin but was devoted to prostration, with supreme compassion, by that very fact I understand that even for a person like me, who has great sins, reassurance is fitting.

Pūtanā, the cart, and the pair of arjuna trees—like sparks of a child's other-oriented actions—these attained moth-hood (destruction) by Your tejas. O hidden Lord, You grew up in Vraja out of fear of Kaṁsa.

While the sages always behold Your supreme abode, dwelling with Goddess Śrī and great opulence, and being sought after by the yogis through yōga, why did You steal butter in the cowherd-settlements? Alas!

That supreme Lord, whom the wise always call hard to attain even by the mind, the cutter of bondage, the supreme—we have heard that You, that very one, were bound with a rope, and You were not capable of loosening it. Alas!

Indeed, such was Your childhood play—exceedingly playful—in which Pūtanā, the cart, and the pair of arjuna trees, through childish activity that had other purposes, attained moth-hood by Your tejas.

When there was an abundance of milk products in Your own home, why did You steal from the homes of others? And why, after stealing, did You break the pot in front, becoming a laughingstock for the cowherd women?

O Lord, if when You stole butter, Your intention was to cover it up, then why, O naive one, did You smear Your hand with it and then leave without hesitation, rubbing it on Your body?

Yaśodā, unable to bear the insult of You stealing butter from other cowherds' houses, bound You out of love with a rope that had been twisted. Such conduct of Yours is not tolerated by noble people.

If You are bound by mother with that rope, the spectators' eyes became waterfalls of tears. O Lord, why do You bind their hearts? Everyone, after all, shows power over what is subject to them.

O Supreme One, bearing a face beautiful with curling hair, spotless, with lotus-like wide eyes, graceful eyebrows, a gentle smile, and a well-shaped nose, in the cowherd homes, did You steal the hearts of the cowherd women or the butter?

It is indeed true that everything is virtuous for the virtuous. What is the cause of impurity for others is counted as virtue for You by the wise, such as Your wearing of cowherd attire and Your tending of cows.

Though You exist as the one who wishes to fill the earth completely with Your cowherd-child form, yet out of childish playfulness, You broke the sacrifice of Indra and then held up the mountain—why did You stand there for the host of gods including Indra?

O Lord of the worlds, when You were devoted to the sound of Your flute, and You were purifying Vṛndāvana with the touch of Your feet, what were the emotions of the forest grounds at that time? The sand of the earth was moistened by Your song.

Those fortunate ones heard Your song during the time of Your playing, by which stones became water. Moreover, the five elements—earth, water, fire, air, and space—had their qualities transformed.

There is surely none more fortunate than those who, with minds yearning for the rāsa festival, in the forest where the stream of necta from Your flute filled the area, licked their own lips with their tongues—the snakes!

The fortunate ones, with all other thoughts destroyed, then saw You—of cloud-blue complexion, with lotus-petal-wide eyes, a peacock-feather crown, holding a flute to Your lips, and with Your body's luster adorned by cowherd garb.

Govardhana, the best of mountains; that Yamunā river; Vṛndāvana; and the ancient city of Mathurā—even today, alas, these places, blessed by the touch of Your feet, are easily available to fortunate people.

In Vṛndāvana, among the creatures ranging from stationary plants to mobile insects and dūrvā grass—alas, those who then did not attain birth—those wretches and sinners—when will we again take refuge in Your feet?

Alas, I did not obtain birth in those sands! During the rāsa dance, the cowherd maidens, separated from You, placed their bodies, burning with love, on the ground marked by Your footprints and enjoyed that touch.

Those trees or creepers that served Your lotus feet while You were gathering flowers—even now, their descendants make Vṛndāvana, the family deity of my heart, and my mind, prosperous.

Whatever is dear to You is virtuous here; anything else is sinful; no other criterion applies. Indeed, Your playful deception in the rāsa assembly—that very chanting is considered supremely purifying.

That fame of Yours which arose from killing kings and insects like Kaṁsa—that is not even worthy of You who have conquered the three worlds. Rather, it is this act of cowherding and such, which is Your own work, that melts the hearts of the wise.

May the cowherd garb that adorns the Lord of all—whose name is the supreme abode beyond darkness, whose sacred thread is the excellent peacock-feather ornament, and whose hair is greyed by the dust of the earth—be present within me.

That You fled out of fear of the son of Jarā—if that is due to following human conduct, then why, O Lord of the three worlds, the supreme Lord of lords, did You make Śiva fight in the battle of Bāṇa?

Where did that ungrateful action of Yours come from? You desired a son and so asked for a boon from Śiva. Then, with a mind attached to dice and with disregard, You tricked Vārāṇasī, the city of Śiva.

Even after reviving the dead son of Uttarā, bringing back the long-dead son of Sāndīpani, or returning the brāhmaṇa's sons from Your own abode, how did You bring back that same body of Yours? Alas!

Even now I have not ceased from the threefold offense; I, a sinner, have fallen into boundless darkness. Such a helpless person am I, worthy of Your compassion; I take refuge in Your feet.

Even though I have no confidence in You, nor faith in the meaning of the words uttered, still, O sole ocean of compassion, by Your grace alone, make this speech of mine, uttered once or even many times, true.

It is not fitting for You, O Lord, to disregard me, even though I am most sinful, for I am one who has uttered the word "surrender." Since Your knowledge, power, and compassion exist, my sin cannot prevail here.

Thus ends the Atimānuṣa Stava (the hymn of superhuman praise) in the Pañcastavyam.