{"collection":"Hinduism","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/browse/hin/htss/htss05.htm","path":"hin/htss/htss05.htm","source_url":"https://sacred-texts.com/hin/htss/htss05.htm","text":"The third of these hymn-writers, named in full Sundaram\u016brti Sw\u0101mi, was, like Sambandar, a Brahman. He was born in the South Arcot District, and is generally believed to have flourished in the first quarter of the ninth century A.D. He evidently sat loose to caste scruples, for neither of his two wives was a Brahman. One was a dancing-girl in the \u015aaivite temple at Tiruv\u0101r\u016br, the modern Tiruvalur in the Tanjore District, while the other was a V\u0113\u1e37\u0101\u1e37a woman of Tiruvottiy\u016br, now a suburb of Madras. His life seems to have been no happier than life in polygamy usually is, and to add to his difficulties he sometimes found himself without food for his ladies to eat. He frankly praised God for what he could get, and on the whole his hymns are on a lower spiritual plane than those of the first two writers, though there are some which bear the marks of real spiritual experience. Of the sixty-three saints whom \u015aaivites hold in special honour, Sundarar seems to have been the last, for he sang the praises of the other sixty-two.\nSundarar, as our first sample of him shews, was not only later than the two authors whom we have been studying; he was the last of the sixty-three canonized saints of \u015aaivism. A serious weakness of the religion here shews its head. \u015aiva has his favourites, who can do no wrong. The stanza is given in prose, for these names cannot fit into any English metrical line. The first two will be recognised as names of the poets whose work we have been considering. N\u0101\u1e37aipp\u014dv\u0101n is Nandan, the pariah saint. Silandi (= spider) is K\u014dchchenga\u1e6d Chola, who figures largely in early Tamil history.\n65. \u00d1\u0101nasambandar and Tirun\u0101vukkarasar, skilled in the Tamil tongue, N\u0101\u1e37aipp\u014dv\u0101n, learned S\u016bdan, S\u0101kkiyan, Silandi, Ka\u1e47\u1e47appan, Ka\u1e47ampullan, these may do wrong, but yet Thou count\u2019st it right. Hence have I come to the sounding anklets of Thy feet, O lord of Tiruppung\u016br with its pools where blossoms many a golden lotus gem.\nTo English ears the metre of the next two verses, which are common favourites, has a curious sound. It is a close reproduction of the Tamil, so close that the tune of the Tamil hymn could be sung to the English words.\n66. Golden art Thou in Thy form, girt around with the fierce tiger's skin, Fair shines Thy tangle of hair, crowned with blooms from the kondai's bright tree, Sov\u2019reign, great jewel art Thou, the red ruby of Mal\u0324ap\u0101\u1e0di, Mother, on Thee, none but Thee, can my heart evermore fix\u00e8d be.\n67. Clad in the little loin-cloth, my body with holy ash white, Lo I have come to Thy foot; O my head, I beseech Thee, take me. Portion of sword-eyed Um\u0101, Thou red ruby of Mal\u0324ap\u0101\u1e0di, Friend, \u2019tis on Thee, none but Thee, can my heart evermore fix\u00e8d be.\nIs the \u015aiva manifested at one shrine so distinct from the \u015aiva manifested at another as to endanger the unity of God? If tradition is right, the danger is very real, for Sundarar was already worshipping at one shrine, Tiruvottiy\u016br, when he remembered the lord of \u0100r\u016br, and deciding to go to him like a returning prodigal, sang this stanza.\n68. Ah sinful, I have left the path of love and service pure! Now know I well the meaning of my sickness and my pain. I will go worship. Fool! how long can I so far remain From Him, my pearl, my diamond rare, the king of great \u0100r\u016br.\nThe joy in God which shines in our next hymn evidently rests on some experience of divine grace which we should have liked to hear more definitely described.\n69. O madman with the moon-crowned hair, Thou lord of men, thou fount of grace, How to forget Thee could I bear? My soul hath aye for Thee a place. Ve\u1e47\u1e47ey-nall\u016br, in \"Grace's shrine\" South of the stream of Pe\u1e47\u1e47ai, there My father, I became all thine; How could I now myself forswear?\n70. I roamed, a cur, for many days Without a single thought of Thee, Roamed and grew weary, then such grace As none could win Thou gayest me. Ve\u1e47\u1e47ey-nall\u016br, in \"Grace's shrine\" Where bamboos fringe the Pe\u1e47\u1e47ai, there My Shepherd, I became all thine; How could I now myself forswear?\n71. Henceforth for me no birth, no death, No creeping age, bull-rider mine. Sinful and full of lying breath Am I, hut do Thou mark me Thine. Ve\u1e47\u1e47ey-nall\u016br, in \"Graces shrine\" South of the wooded Pe\u1e47\u1e47ai, there My Master, I became all thine; How could I now myself forswear?\nThe varying mood of the saint, now joyous and triumphant, now plaintively looking for death, is reflected in the next two verses from one hymn.\n72. Linked to naught else in life, my mind thinks only of Thy holy feet. I'm born anew, from this time forth I pass the way of birth no more. In Ko\u1e0dumu\u1e0di, lord austere, where wise men Thee with praises greet, Should I forget Thee, my own tongue 'Hail, \u015aiva'! crying, would adore.\n73. When will the end draw nigh, sense fade, life close, and I the bier ascend? This, naught but this, is all my thought. But, lord of speech, Thou light on high, Where the bright streams of K\u0101viri to Ko\u1e0dumu\u1e0di coolness lend, Should I forget Thee, my own tongue to Thee would loud 'Hail, \u015aiva' cry.\nGod should deliver His own from death. The appeal here is to the familiar story of Markandeya (see No. 3). Yama is the god of death who gathers in the souls of men.\n74. The young saint refuge sought from Death; To save him, Thou grim Death did\u2019st slay, Such deeds Thy might accomplisheth, And I who have beheld them pray \"O Father, should dread Yama press On me, forbid him. \u2019Tis my slave\"; Do Thou in green Pung\u016br confess. I've reached Thy foot, and Thou can\u2019st save.\"\nSundarar is sure that \u015aiva will understand his perplexities in supplying the needs of his fair ladies. For does not \u015aiva Himself bear the burden of two ladies, P\u0101rvati his consort, and Gang\u0101 (lady Ganges) in his hair? Sundarar, in the legend with which these verses are connected, when one of his wives was suffering hunger, miraculously received some uncooked rice from \u015aiva. This was not enough; to complete the miracle \u015aiva must remove the rice for him to \u0100r\u016br the abode of his fair one. This too was done in answer to the hymn of which the next two stanzas are a sample.\n75. Ever I think but of Thee; Daily in worship I bow; She of the sword-piercing eyes, Leave her not suffering now. K\u014d\u1e37ili's lord, Thou didst give Rice in Ku\u1e47\u1e0daiy\u016br this day. No man to bring it have I, Bid it be sent me, I pray.\n76. Thou art half woman Thyself; Ga\u1e45g\u0101 is in Thy long hair. Full well canst Thou comprehend Burden of women so fair. Ku\u1e47\u1e0daiy\u016br circled with gems, There didst Thou give rice to-day. Source of all, wonderful one, Bid it be sent me, I pray.\nThe saint advises his fellow-poets to sing the praises of \u015aiva rather than the praises of men because they seldom reward the poets. \u015aiva rewards them here and hereafter. The P\u0101ri mentioned in 78 was a chieftain in the Tamil country in the early centuries of our era, famed for his liberality.\n77. Though ye fawn on men of lies, They to saints will nothing give; Sing not them, O poets wise, But if ye would wealth receive Sing the Sire of Puhal\u016br; Here your wants will be supplied, Pain will flee; there evermore Ye will kings in heav\u2019n abide.\n78. Call the weak by Bhima's name, Style him Arjun with his bow, Give the mean man P\u0101ri's fame, Not a gift will he bestow. Sing, O bards, our holy God, White with ash, in Puhal\u016br. In the deathless one's abode Ye shall reign for evermore.\nLife and experience have no value, no reality. God alone is real, the refuge from the unreal.\n79. Our life is all unreal, Its end is only dust, Out of the sea of birth Come ruin, pain and lust. Delay not to do good But praise Ket\u0101ram's king, Whom Vish\u1e47u and great Brahm Vainly sought sorrowing.","title":"Hymns of the Tamil Saivite Saints: Sundaram\u016brti Sw&#...","type":"page"}