Hanuman Bahuk

He who crossed the ocean, dispelled Sita's sorrow, whose body shone like the young sun, with massive arms and a terrifying form, who is the destroyer even of Death.

The son of the wind god, who burned the forest and the city of Lanka without any fear, with his crooked arm, and who crushed the pride and arrogance of mighty demons.

Tulsidas says: He is easily accessible to his devotees, always near for his servants' welfare; by praising him, bowing to him, remembering him, and chanting his name, all terrible afflictions are destroyed.

His body is like a golden mountain, dense with the brilliance of millions of young suns. He has a vast chest, mighty arms like clubs, and nails as hard as thunderbolts, his body itself as firm as a thunderbolt.

With tawny eyes, a fearsome brow, and a long tongue and rows of teeth; his hair is like a monkey's, his tail is rough; he is the destroyer of the strength of the armies of the wicked.

Tulsidas says: In whose heart dwells the terrifying form of the son of the wind god, affliction and sin never approach that person even in a dream.

He is a hero equal to all in battle—superior to the five-headed, the six-headed, Bhrigu and other foremost warriors, surpasses all demons and gods, and is the most valiant in combat.

He is a valiant and fearsome warrior, extolled by a series of epithets; the Vedas and bards sing of him as one who fulfills all pledges.

Whose virtues Lord Raghunath Himself praises, and whose strength causes the vast ocean filled with abundant waters to tremble.

Who is there equal to Tulsidas's Lord, the destroyer of the armies of the two (Ravana and Kumbhakarna)? He is the noble and pure son of the wind, a great Rajput (warrior).

When Hanuman went to study with the sun god, the sun thought in his mind that this was just a child's play, so he made the sun change his course.

With his later steps, he moved through the sky, his mind absorbed; his steps were never confused—such was the childish play of the monkey-boy.

Seeing this wonder, the guardians of the worlds—Indra, Shiva, Brahma—were dazzled in their eyes and their minds felt a burden of astonishment.

Whether it be the strength of valor, patience, or courage—Tulsidas says that this one, who has taken on a body, is the very essence of all.

In the Mahabharata, the monkey-king was the banner on Arjuna's chariot; when he roared, the army of the Kauravas was thrown into turmoil.

Drona and Bhishma declared that the son of the wind is a great hero, an ocean of the essence of valor, whose strength turned into a flood.

With his monkey nature, he played as a child on the earth because of the sun; jumping and leaping, he diminished the expanse of the sky.

Bowing and bowing their heads, joining and joining their hands, the warriors behold him; seeing Hanuman is the fruit of the life of the world.

Making the ocean like a cow's hoofprint, he brought fire to Lanka like a Holika bonfire; utterly fearless, he threw the enemy's city into chaos.

He lifted a mountain like Drona with ease, and played with it like a ball; such was the fruit of the monkey's sport with the berry.

When difficulties and perplexities arose in Lord Rama's reign, the tasks of ages were accomplished in the palm of a moment.

The one who is courageous, capable, and the master of Tulsidas, whose arm is like a pillar—for him, even the protectors of the worlds become steady once again.

As if he used the back of the tortoise (Kurma) as a footstool, and measured and filled the ocean's waters in a vessel.

He became a forest fire to burn the demons, a fortress for their protection; the great fish, the whale, and the timi fish became his territory.

The bodies of Kumbhakarna, Ravana, and their thunderous shouts became fuel, and Tulsidas says, his splendor became a mighty fire.

Bhishma said, "In my opinion, there is no equal to Hanuman in the three worlds in all three times—past, present, and future."

O messenger of Lord Rama, O worthy son of the wind, O son of Anjana, your splendor is like the vast sun.

You dispel Sita's sorrow, you subdue sins and faults, you are the refuge for those who come to you, and you are as dear to Lakshmana as his life.

You became the destroyer of the unbearable poverty of the ten-faced Ravana, and O Tulsidas's treasure, you are the revealed shelter of the three worlds.

You are full of knowledge, virtues, strength, and ever-attentive to service; O wise master, such is the one who dwells in the heart—Hanuman.

He destroys the armies of the wicked, his strength is known throughot the worlds; the Vedas sing his glory, and he is the liberator of the bards of the gods.

He is skilled in dispelling the darkness of sin and affliction like the dawn; he brings joy to the lotus-like hearts of his servants like the morning sun.

In this world and the next, there is no sorrow even in a dream; Tulsidas has hope only in one direction.

He is the beloved servant of Rama, the abode of Bhamadev; his name is the wish-fulfilling tree of the Kali age, and he is the son of Kesari.

He is the limit of great strength, supremely fierce, a great archer, a great hero, famously chosen by Lord Raghubir.

His body is as hard as a thunderbolt; he fights with a mighty roar in battle; his mind is filled with compassion, and he is steadfast in righteousness.

He is as terrible as death to the wicked and the protector of the virtuous; when remembers, he removes the pain of Tulsidas.

He is the bestower of joy to Sita, the beloved of Lord Raghunayak (Rama), and the helper of servants; he is the courageous son of the wind.

He is like Brahma for creating, like Vishnu for preserving, like Shiva for destroying the world, and like the moon for giving nectar (reviving).

He is like the earth for bearing, like the sun for destroying darkness, like fire for drying up, and like the winter sun for nourishing.

He is like one who punishes the wicked and pleases the virtuous; h is like a generous donor when the humble ask for the sweet (of grace).

He is the one who removes the affliction of the distressed in all three worlds; Tulsidas's master is this obstinate Hanuman.

Knowing the servant's hesitation, Janaki's husband shows no reluctance; even the trident-wielder (Shiva) bows with favor toward him.

Godesses, gods, and demons become compassionate and join their hands; what can a poor king or a mere chieftain do?

Whherher waking, sleeping, sitting, or speaking in joy, any misfortune that might come to him is countered by his one glance.

Every day brings good fortune whever he may be, for one who has faith in his heart in the command of Hanuman.

Shiva with Uma, the trident-wielder, is favorable; all the guardians of the worlds, Lakshmana, Rama, and Janaki ar with him.

In this world and the next, he is free from grief in all the three worlds; Tulsidas asks, what need is thre of any other hero?

All the bards, the son of Kesari, and the liberator of the captivs ar honored; the fame of the compasionate monkey is pure.

Compasionate saints and siddhas protect him like a child, in whose heart the call of Hanuman delights.

You ar the treasure of compasion, the treausre of strength and wisdom, the treausre of joy and glory, the treausre of virtues and knowledge.

You ar the embodiment of Bhamadev, the friend of King Rama; by uttering and receiving your name, one gains artha, dharma, kama, and moksha.

By your own power, by the nature and conduct of Sita's Lord (Rama), you ar the wise one knowedgeable in the scriptures of the world and the Vedas.

In mind, speech, and action—in these three ways—Tulsidas is yours; you ar my wise and capable master.

The lord of monkeys made his body accessible, though his mind is inaccesible; he adorns and arranges the assemblies for the great king's (Rama's) tasks.

O liberator of the gods' captivs, O roar in battle, O son of Kesari, your glories shine in the world age after age.

O hero of great force, when you cast a glance toward Tulsidas, the saints shrink back in modesty, while the wicked growl.

O son of Anjana, set right what has gone wrong for me, just as those who are honored by Hanuman are blessed.

O Hanuman, you are the crest jewel of your servants; may your abode ever be in their hearts. Whose ruin can I call? Why are you vexed with me? I am yours.

Through the master-servant relationship, a contrac was made between you and Tulsidas; that cannot be undone. By pointing out my faults, may I be careful in the future; my heart is already vanquished.

He whom you establish, even Shiva cannot overturn; he whom you unseat becomes immovable. Those you favor, O refuge of the poor, dwell in the hearts of their enemies like thorns.

Tulsidas says, all afflictions and sorrows burst like spider's webs upon taking your name. I have grown old, O mighty one; is this my time, or have I fallen many times at your feet?

You crossed the ocean, crushed mighty demons, burnt Lanka with its crooked parts like a demon's face. You, like a lion among warriors, have scattered the elephant-like enemies like playful decadent youth.

One who serves a master as capable as you, Tulsidas endures pain and faults like fire. O monkey-king, you have grown great, subduing the demons; why not pick me up and wrap me up like a little curl?

You crushed the demon Aksha, and in the forest (Lanka) you made the ten-faced Ravana's face no longer seen. Your roar like a cloud made even the immovable Kumbhakarna like an elephant before a lion.

The dear son of the wind, like the wind itself, is the fire of Rama's splendor, the tortoise, and the enemy's destruction. From sin, from curse, from the threefold afflictions, Tulsidas always has that protector.

The whole world knows that Hanuman's favored servant (Tulsidas) should not forget his words; consider in your mind, O mighty one, and do not forget his words.

If there has ever been any fult in service from Tulsidas, O master, please consider your monkey-lordship nature.

Even if you consider me a crimimal and punish me in thousand ways, you slay with sweet (like modaka) and should not strike with poison.

O beloved of the courageous wind, O Lord Raghubira's own, O great hero, quickly remove the pain in my arm.

Seeing me as a child, O mighty one, from the very beginning you made me your own. O friend of the poor, you showed grace without any condion.

My trust is in you only, my strength is your strength; my hope is yours only; consider me your servant.

The terrible Kali age has left none unafflicted; place your foot (of protec) on my head and ward off this (pain).

O son of Kesari, O roar in battle, O hero of great force, strike down the pain in my arm as Rahu's mother was killed by throwing.

You establish the unestablished and unseat the established; O son of Kesari, remember your own strength.

O messenger of Rama, you are the wish-fulfilling tree for Rama's servants; for me, a poor and weak one, you are my only support.

O powerful master, I am under you; even if I am guilty, O hero, bind me and kill me.

Your arm is like a vast pond; O mighty one, this pain like a water-creature, seize it like a crocodile and tear its mouth apart.

Grant me the love of Rama, the courage of Rama, Lakshmana and Sita; grant me devotion to Rama; remove my sorrow and afflictions.

Seeing the ocean of joy and the ocean of disease, they (the gods) have grown weary; the life and faith of Jambavan is the weight of Your support.

O compassionate one, leap with pure love from this mountain to the destined spot; seated on a good place, reflect and decide.

O great and fearsome hero, why not break the pain in my arm with a kick like you did to Lankini and kill it?

Neither in this world nor the next, nor in the three worlds, do I see anyone equal to you; examine the four ages and see.

Karma (actions), Kala (time), Lokapalas (world protectors), movables and immovables, all life-forms—O Lord, all are in your hand; consider your own majesty.

I am your servant, and your abode is in his hheart; Tulsidas sees that his deity is grieved and it weighs on him.

The pain in my arm is like a creeper (Kapikacchu) that grows at the root of a tree; it has grown fully; O monkey-play, uproot it.

Just as the cruel Kamsa, the king, relied on his strenght, the sister of Vaka (Putana) with her monstrous form, what can she fear from anyone?

She is a terrible child-killer, beyond words; she will strike the charming little boys with her powerful arms.

She has come in disguise; think and see for yourself. All their sins will go away if they fall under the protection of a virtuous one.

O monkey-lord, just as Putana the demoness was killed by Krishna, so will this pain in the arm, O great hero, die by your strike.

Is this pain from fate, from time, from anger, from the three doshas? This severe pain is like sin and affliction, like a shadow of deceit.

Is it from the tricks of karma, or from yantras, mantras, herbs? Let that sinfulness and impurity within the mind be removed.

They will receive punishment; do not speak boastfully of yourself. O mad one, do not be so; know the speech of the monkey lord.

I call upon the authority of the powerful Hanuman; I take the oath of the great hero—if the pain in the arm remains.

You killed Simhika with strength, subdued Surasa by trickery, threw down Lankini, and destroyed the grove.

You set Lank afire, tore apart the crocodile again and again, and forced the demons to swallow the dust.

You broke Yama's staff, brought Mandodari (Ravana's queen) to grief, and confounded Meghanada's wife.

O great hero, you have completely protecd me from the fear of arm-pain; whose hesitation causes such heavy sorrow to Tulsidas?

Hearing of your childhod play, O hero, even the courageous are awed; Indra, the sun, and Rahu forget their bodily awareness.

All the world guardins dwell without grief in your arm; by taking your name, no one remains in affliction.

The methods of saman, dana, bheda, the Vedic rituals, all success lies in the hands of the monkey lord; he plucks the thieves' topknots and the rich men's.

This is a lesson given through laziness, anger, or jest; this pain in the arm has remained with Tulsidas for so many days.

Calling beggars who roam from house to house for scraps, you nourish and raise the fallen even as children, O compassionate one.

O son of Anjana, hero, you have taken great care; you will not forget your own, nor will my trust be lost.

You are proven today as capable in every way; O monkey-king, I speak the truth: who in the three worlds is like you?

Though punishing a servant, look upon it as a jest; the death of a sparrow is but a play for children.

Whether from my own sins, or from the threefold affliction, or from a curse, my arm-pain has increased; it cannot be told nor endured.

Many medicines, yantras, mantras, and talismans have been used; they have failed; the deiies have been propitiated to no avail.

The Creator, the Sustainer, the Destroyer, karma, time—who in the web of the world does not acceede to this (pain)?

I am your servant, Tulsidas; you have called me your own, O messenger of Rama. Your delay, O hero, pains me more than the pain itself.

O messenger of Lord Rama, O worthy son of the wind, O capable hand and foot, O helper of the helpless.

Your series of epithets are wondrous and sung by the Vedas; even a warrior like Ravana was struck down by a fist stroke.

Today, with such a great and capable master's favor, the good servant flourishes in word, mind, and body.

The slight pain in my arm has become a great distress for Tulsidas; which sin, which anger, whih loss of your manifest splendor (causes this)?

Godesses, gods, demons, humans, sages, siddhas, nagas, small and great beings, all sentient and insentient.

Putana, Pisachini, she-demons, and wicked demons all accept the dominion of Rama's messenger upon their heads.

Frightful yantras, mantras, frauds, deceptions, and chronic diseases abandon their abodes upon hearing Hanuman's command.

Be angry with karma, inspirit Tulsidas, and punish those who give me faults and pains.

By your strength, monkeys conquered Ravana in battle; by your hand, demons became homeless.

By your strength, Rama's reign accomplished all the gods' tasks; all assemblies and adornments were arranged for the son of Raghu.

Hearing Yyour glory sung, the gods thrill; Brahma, Vishnu, and Shiva have moistened eyes.

O king of monkeys, pass your hand over Tulsidas's head; do not let your servant be seen distressed, even by a tiny measure.

Protect even my scanty morsel; even if I fail, do not let me become mute. I am but a wretched leaf; look kindly toward me.

O lord of the morning, do not become angry at dawn for slight faults; nourish, satisfy, establish me, and do not abandon me.

You are water, I am a water-creature; you are a mango tree, I am a bee. Do not delay; consider and extend your support to me.

Knowing me as a distressed child, recognizing my love, O long-tailed one, move your tail over Tulsidas's arm.

I am surrounded by disesses, evil conjunctures, and evil lineages, as dark clouds and dense masses rush in during the monsoon.

(These) pain showers down like rain; should I burn it like wild bushes? There is anger without fault, smoke and root of impurity.

O treasure of compassion, Hanuman, great and mighty, seeing (the pain), laughing, calling out, blowing, you scattered those hosts.

A fierce disese, like a demoness, would have devoured Tulsidas, but the son of Kesari, the hero, protected me by his chosen might.

You alone are the servant of Rama, O Hanuman. O Lord, O noble one, may you always be gracious.

As a child, you fed me letters (education); from my father and mother I recived joy and blessings completely.

The pain in my arm cries out for relief; in distress I call out, having forgotten all joy.

O Lord Raghubira, remove this pain; may I remain in your court, even if I am crippled and lame.

Whether this is the cruel hand of time or the difficulty of karma, or the influence of sin with its wild nature like a mad wind.

This pain in such an evil way is unbearable day and night; it is the same arm that was grasped by the beloved of the wind.

The tree (of my body) was planted by you; look at it and water it, for it has become withered under the three fires (afflictions).

The nature of spirits (bhutas), of oneself, of others—O treasure of compassion, all your ways are known, O Lord Rama's own.

Pain in the foot, pain in the belly, pain in the arm, pain in the mouth—my entire body is racked and full of pain.

Deities, ancestors, karma, the wicked, time, planets—all have set upon me like a garland of torment.

I have been sold without price from the very beginnng; I have the exple of Rama's name writin on my forehead.

The servant of Agastya (Kumbhaja) was distressed and drowning in a cow's hoof-print (small water); O Lord Rama, how has such a condion come to pass?

Bahuka, Subahu, the lowly Maricha, and others (demons) are the pain in the mouth; the disese called Ketu's daughter (?) is like a demon.

I have performed japa and vigilance on Rama's name with full devotion; what can time's messengers and spirits do to my vow?

When I remember the help of the two syllables "Rama" and "Lakshmana," at whose mere gathering the entire world is awake (proteced?).

Tulsidas, remember the one who killed Tadaka, the mighty warrior who pierced the banyan tree with his arrow skillfully.

In childhood, with my simple mind I came face-to-face with Rama; taking Rama's name, I begged and ate scraps of bread.

I fell into worldly customs; (but) pure love for Rama made me sit, abandoning my cunning.

Adopting crooked and base conduct, the son of Anjana chasened me; I am now cooked (refined) by Rama's hand.

Tulsidas became a lord (gosai) and in false days I forgot (the truth); now I am suffering the fruit, the full ripening of that.

Lacking food and clothing, immersed in severe grief, seeing me poor and weak, no one cries out "alas."

Tulsidas, though an orphan, Lord Raghunath made me his own; he gave fruit from his own nature, the ocean of virtue.

In the midst of this lowliness, having obtained a master, I became proud and, abandoning the Lord's service in word, mind, and body.

Therefore the body is being crushed under the pretext of a terrible storm; the salt (sin) of Lord Rama is oozing out in pieces.

I live in the world called the life of Janaki's lord (Rama); when I die, may I have Benares and the water of the Ganges.

Tulsidas has sweet fruits (modakas) in both hands in such a place that whether he lives or dies, childern will not have to worry.

People call me Rama's, false or true; in my mind I consider myself neither Vishnu's nor Shiva's.

Severe and unbearable pain distresses my body; sleeping without Raghubira, can he (the pain) be removed far away?

The Lord of Sita, the master, Hanuman is always my help; Shiva is like my guru who gave beneficial advice.

I place my mind, speech, and body at your feet; trusting in you, O gods, I do not care for other gods.

Whatever affliction from disease, spirits, or any wicked person, please resolve it, knowing Tulsidas as your servant who is eager (for your grace).

O lord of monkeys, lord of Raghu, lord of Bhola (Shiva), lord of spirits—why not cast away this ocean of disease as easily as splashing a cow's hoofprint?

I speak to the wise Hanuman, to Lord Rama, to the treasure of compassion, to Shankar—listen attentively.

The world is created with joy and sorrow, passion and anger, virtues and faults; all this is seen by Brahma.

Maya, the individual soul, time, and the nature of karma—the doer is Rama, the Vedas say; reflect this truth in your mind.

What cannot be done by you? Understand this, and let me be silent; if you remain silet, then I too remain silent—know that and reap (the consequence).