ହନୁମାନ ବାହୁକ

The crosser of the ocean, the remover of Sita's sorrow, whose body is radiant like the morning sun; with massive arms, a formidable form as if it were the destroyer of Death himself. Fearless and resolute, he burned the impenetrable Lanka, the son of the Wind who crushes the pride and arrogance of powerful demons. Tulsidas says, he is easily propitiated by his devotees, always near for the welfare of his servants; reflecting on whose virtues, bowing to him, remembering him, and chanting his name destroys all severe afflictions and dangers.

Like a golden mountain, radiant as a mass of ten million rising suns, with a broad chest and mighty arm-like pillars, possessing sharp claws and a body hard as a thunderbolt. With tawny eyes, formidable brows, and a tongue and face that strike terror; with yellowish hair and a coarse tail, he is the destroyer of the strength of the wicked hosts. Tulsidas says, in whose heart the formidable form of the son of the Wind-god resides, neither suffering nor sin can approach that person even in their dreams.

The five-faced (Shiva), the six-faced (Kartikeya), the sage Bhrigu, and the foremost warriors among both demons and gods, all acknowledge his prowess in the battle of existence, for he is the matchless hero among all. He is a valiant warrior, acclaimed for his glory, whose legendary deeds are sung by the Vedas as a vow fulfilled. He whose virtues were praised by Raghunath (Rama) himself, and by whose strength the vast, overflowing ocean of the world was dried up—who else but the noble son of the Wind-god, the radiant Rajput, is the subduer of the enemy’s forces, O Tulsidas?

Hanuman went to the Sun to learn, and the Sun, considering him a mere child, played a trick in his movements. Yet, moving backward through the sky with a joyful heart, the monkey-child traversed it with such steady pace and precision that there was no confusion in his steps. Seeing this wonder, the guardians of the world—Vishnu, Shiva, and Brahma—were left dazzled and stirred in their minds. Tulsi says, it was as if the very essence of strength, heroism, patience, and courage had taken a bodily form.

The monkey-king, whose banner flew atop Partha's chariot in the land of Bharat, roared, hearing which the army of the Kurus trembled in fear. Drona and Bhishma acknowledged the great warrior, the son of the Wind, whose might was an ocean of heroic sentiment. With his innate simian nature, he leapt towards the sun in his childhood play, and with a single bound, he conquered the expanse of the sky. Warriors bow their heads again and again, joining their palms as they behold him; seeing Hanuman, they have attained the ultimate fruit of worldly life.

Making the ocean like a cow's hoofprint, he set Lanka ablaze as if it were a heap of straw; he entered the enemy's city fearlessly and created a great uproar. He plucked up the Drona mountain as if it were a mere toy and tossed it about like a play-ball. In the crisis of the Rama-regime, when perplexity reigned, he accomplished in a moment the tasks that would have taken aeons. Tulsidas’s Lord is so valorous and capable that, under the protection of his arms, the guardians of the worlds have once again found a stable footing.

Like the depression in the shell of a tortoise, the footprints of the one who crossed the ocean after filling them with the water of the vast sea. He became the fortress for the flight of the demons' destroyer, and a dwelling place for the giant fish and schools of whales. For the fuel of Kumbhakarna, Ravana, and Meghnada, Tulsidas says, whose prowess became a fierce fire. Bhishma says, in my estimation, there has never been, nor will there ever be, anyone as mighty as Hanuman in the three worlds and the three times.

Messenger of Lord Rama, noble son of the Wind God, you are the delight of Anjani, your glory equaling that of the blazing sun. You are the remover of Sita's sorrows, the destroyer of sins and vices, the protector of those who seek your refuge, and as dear to Lakshmana as his own life. You have appeared like a shelter for the three worlds to destroy the unbearable poverty caused by the ten-faced Ravana, O Tulsidas's treasure of virtues. O wise, virtuous, and mighty one, ever diligent in service, keep Hanuman, the sagacious lord, enshrined in your heart.

Whose might is renowned across the worlds as the destroyer of enemy hordes, and whose praises the Vedas and the gods sing as the liberator of the bound. He is skilled in dispelling the darkness of sins and sorrows, and the cold of afflictions, just as the morning sun brings joy to the lotus-like devotees. Having faith only in Him, Tulsi is free from grief, both in this world and the next, and even in dreams. He is the beloved servant of Lord Rama, the abode of Vamadeva, and the wish-fulfilling tree of the Kali Yuga—the youthful son of Kesari.

He is the limit of great strength, terrifically formidable, and a master of great arrows; known as the greatest of heroes, the chosen one of the Lord of the Raghus. His body is as hard as a thunderbolt, and his roar resounds across the battlefield, yet his mind is filled with compassion, and he is a steady follower of Dharma. He is like death to the wicked and a protector of the virtuous; the mere remembrance of him removes the pain of Tulsidas. He is the giver of joy to Sita, the beloved of the Lord of the Raghus, and the brave son of the Wind-god is the helper of his servants.

As Brahma is for creation, Hari (Vishnu) for preservation, Hara (Shiva) for destruction, and the drinking of nectar for immortality; as the Earth is for supporting, the Sun for dispelling darkness, fire for drying, and the cool-rayed moon for nurturing; so is the destroyer of the sorrows of the wicked, the fulfiller of the joys of the devotees, the one who consumes all impurities like a sweetmeat, and the remover of the distress of the afflicted in all three worlds; such is Tulsidas’s Lord, the obstinate Hanuman.

Knowing the devotion of His servant, the Lord of Janaki (Rama) maintains his dignity, and even the trident-bearing Shiva bows before the Lord (Hanuman). When gods, goddesses, and demons stand with folded hands in supplication, what are poor, wretched, insignificant kings or paupers in comparison? Whether waking, sleeping, sitting, or walking, he who finds joy and amusement in the roar of Hanuman—if any evil befalls him, the Almighty (Rama) is there to personally intervene. He who cherishes the reliance on Hanuman’s roar in his heart finds all days auspicious and remains fulfilled everywhere.

He who is served by Shiva (the wielder of the trident), accompanied by his attendants and Gauri, and who is revered by the Lokapalas (world guardians) and by Rama, Lakshmana, and Janaki, he who transcends the sorrows of this world and the next across all three realms—Tulsidas asks, why would such a person depend on any other hero? The youthful son of Kesari, the liberator of captives, blesses all; pure is the fame of that treasure of compassion, the Monkey-God. The merciful sages and perfected beings will cherish like a child anyone in whose heart the resonant call of Hanuman truly delights.

O Treasure of Compassion, Treasure of strength and wisdom, Treasure of joy and glory, Treasure of virtues and knowledge, You are indeed such. You are the companion of Rama, the King who is the manifestation of Lord Shiva; merely by remembering Your name, You grant righteousness (Dharma), worldly prosperity (Artha), desires (Kama), and liberation (Nirvana). By the power of Your influence and the gentle, noble nature of Sita and Rama, You are the knower of all the traditions of the world and the Vedas, O Hanuman. In thought, word, and deed—in all three ways—Tulsidas is Yours, and You are his wise and omniscient Lord.

O Monkey-Lord, who makes the inaccessible accessible to the mind and the body easy to traverse, you have arrayed all the necessary resources for the tasks of the Great King (Rama). O liberator of the imprisoned gods, hero of the battlefield, youth of Kesari, your glory has shone in the world age after age. O mighty warrior, now that Tulsidas is feeling weak, hear my plea; the wicked roar while the saints feel shy. O son of Anjana, please mend my ruined state, just as you have always blessed those who seek Hanuman’s favor.

O crest-jewel of the wise, Hanuman, you always dwell in the hearts of your devotees. Whose work have I spoiled, or what have I said, for which you are angry with me? In the bond of master and servant, you have already done what you pleased, and here, Tulsidas has no say. By pointing out my faults, you are only becoming more alert for the future, but my heart has truly lost all hope.

Even Mahesh cannot displace what You establish, while what You settle remains firm, O Monkey-God. You, the cherished benefactor of the humble, shine brightly, piercing the hearts of Your enemies. Tulsidas has cast away all sorrows and anxieties by chanting Your name, just as one clears away cobwebs. O Valiant One, I have grown old, yet You have chosen this very moment to test me, or is it that You have been defeated by the many others You have protected?

You crossed the ocean, crushed the wicked heroes, and burned the crooked, arrogant Lanka. Like a lion among warriors, you tore through the enemy's elephant-like ranks as if they were mere fawns. Serving a powerful and noble master like you, Tulsidas still suffers from the afflictions of pain and sin. O Monkey-Hawk! The wicked and demonic forces have grown, why do you not swoop down and snap them up like a quail?

He who crushed Aksha, illuminated the Ashoka grove, and did not even look at the faces of the ten-headed Ravana; he who is like a lion to the elephants that were Indrajit, Akampana, and Kumbhakarna; he who is the wind-god’s beloved son, acting as a blazing fire to consume the forest of enemies through the power of Rama; Tulsidas says that he is the one who always protects me from all sins, curses, and the threefold afflictions.

The world knows that you, Hanuman, favor your devotees; having realized this in my heart, I beseech you not to forget your promise. What fault has Tulsidas committed in his service that you should distance yourself? Remember your lordly nature as a protector and uphold your grace. Knowing me to be an offender, you may punish me in a thousand ways, but do not kill with poison one who can be overcome with a mere sweetmeat. O brave son of the Wind God, beloved of Raghuvira, quickly relieve this agony in my arm.

Seeing me as a child, O Bali (Hanuman), you have claimed me as your own since my youth; O Friend of the humble, you have shown grace without any motive, look upon me with favor. My only reliance is You, my only strength is You, my only hope is in You; consider me truly your servant. This Kali age is great and formidable; who has it not rendered miserable? Placing your foot upon its head, O Bali, look upon it and drive it away. O son of Kesari, hero of the battlefield, mighty warrior, strike down this pain in my arm as you did the mother of Rahu.

O Son of Kesari, You, who establish the unestablished and uproot the established, gather Your strength. You are the wish-fulfilling tree for the servants of Rama, O messenger of Rama, provide support to a lowly and weak person like me. O capable Master, Tulsidas relies on You, yet You strike and bind him without any fault, O Hero. O mighty-armed one, whose arms are vast like a deep lake, destroy the distress of the water-dweller, and like a crocodile, seize and tear open the mouth (of my suffering).

With the affection of Rama, the courage of Rama, Lakshmana, and Sita, and the devotion of Rama, dispel all my sorrows and crises. Having seen the vast ocean of diseases and the mischievous monkeys of worldly desires, I am defeated; for this life, you, O Hanuman, are my only heavy reliance. O compassionate one, leap from the mountain of true love, and sitting upon the peak of the beautiful Subela (the stable mind), reflect upon my state. O valiant, heroic warrior, why do you not crush and destroy this trivial pain in my arm just as you kicked and struck down Lankini?

Neither in this world nor in the hereafter, nor in the three worlds, do I see anyone as capable as You. Fate, Time, the guardians of the worlds, the animate and inanimate, and all the multitudes of beings—O Lord, consider the glory of Your own hands that hold them all. I am Your special servant, and You reside in my heart; yet Tulsidas, Your devotee, is seen suffering greatly. This great agony is like a Kapikacchu vine (cowhage) growing at the root of the tree of my existence; O Hanuman, uproot this vine completely with Your playful might.

Relying on the cruel King Kansa, the demoness Putana—who is like the sister of Bakasura—of whom should she be afraid? She is a monstrous slayer of infants who cannot be escaped, and she would deceive many beautiful and strong children. Having come here by assuming a guise, she herself must think and see that all her sins will come to an end once she falls into the hands of a virtuous one. O Hanuman, the great hero! Just as the demoness Putana was slain by Krishna, this pain in my arm—like a female demon—will be destroyed by your striking, O Tulsidas's savior.

Is it the effect of time, or rage, or the three humors? Is this intense pain the result of sins, afflictions, or malevolent shadows? Is it the outcome of evil deeds, or of sorcery, charms, or spells? O sinful, impure agony dwelling in my mind, flee away at once! I warn you, depart immediately; do not be foolish, for you know well the nature of Hanuman. I invoke the name of the mighty Hanuman, and swear by the oath of the great hero Mahavir, that the pain in my arm shall remain no longer.

You slew Simhika with your strength, countered Surasa’s deceit, struck down Lankini, and laid waste to the grove. You burned Lanka, repeatedly tore the demoness Makari apart, and ground the demon hordes into dust. You broke the sword of Yama, dragged forth Mandodari—the queen of Ravana and mother of Meghnad—and brought her before you. O Mahavir, you who have completely dispelled the agony of my arm, why do you hesitate, leaving Tulsidas in such great distress?

Hearing of your heroic exploits in childhood, the brave tremble and lose consciousness of their very bodies, as did Indra, Surya, and Rahu. All the protectors of the worlds reside in your arms, free from sorrow; by merely chanting your name, no one remains in distress. The methods of conciliation, bribery, and sowing dissension, along with the accomplishments of the Vedas, all lie in the palm of your hand, O Lord of the Monkeys, who are the master of the arrogant. Whether through indifference, anger, or jest, you have been teaching me, and for all these days, you have been the cause of the pain in my arm, Tulsidas.

Wandering from door to door for morsels, uttering meaningless words, You have nurtured and cherished me like a child, O Compassionate Protector of the humble. O heroic son of Anjani, You have looked after me and provided for my essence; I have forgotten my own self, yet I still rely on You. I have this one grievance: today, when You are capable in every way, O King of Monkeys, I speak the truth—who else in the three worlds is like You? Yet, witnessing the suffering of Your servant, You only mock me; for You, this plight is like a child’s game of killing a cricket.

Whether this pain in my arm has grown due to my own sins, the threefold afflictions, or a curse, it is unbearable and beyond description. I have tried countless medicines, charms, mantras, and remedies, and I have invoked all the gods, but all efforts have been in vain, and the agony only intensifies. O Creator, Sustainer, Destroyer, Fate, and Time—who is there in this worldly trap that does not bow to your command? Tulsidas is your servant, and you, O messenger of Rama, are my benefactor; O brave one, your delay in acting makes my pain all the more excruciating.

Messenger of the great King Rama, worthy son of the Wind God (Vayu), source of strength for the helpless, and equal to all in limb and spirit. Your unique renown is famous and sung by the Vedas; even a warrior like Ravana was subdued by the strike of your fist. You, who have been graced by such a great and omnipotent Lord, today, your humble devotee is suffering in body, mind, and speech. For Tulsidas, even a small pain in the arm brings great distress; what sin has caused this anger, and why is your manifest glory hidden?

Gods, goddesses, demons, humans, sages, celestial beings, and serpents, as well as all living creatures, great and small, sentient and insentient; even Pūtanā, female demons, and malevolent spirits—all bow their heads in acceptance of the command of Lord Rāma’s messenger (Hanumān). Hearing the oath of Hanumān, they abandon dwellings afflicted by horrific talismans, incantations, deceit, treachery, and malady. Oh Hanumān, show your righteous wrath toward my past deeds, enlighten me, Tulsīdās, and purge those who inflict sin and suffering upon me.

By your strength, the monkeys defeated Ravana in battle, and by your strike, the demons were decimated in every home. By your power, Rama established his kingdom and fulfilled all the tasks of the gods, arranging the complete assembly of the Raghubar. Hearing your virtues, the gods feel thrilled, and the eyes of Brahma, Vishnu, and Shiva become moist with tears. O Lord of the monkeys, place your hand upon Tulsidas's head; look upon your servant, who is distressed, for you are known to be compassionate to those who seek your refuge.

I have survived on Your crumbs; do not remain silent if I have faltered. You have gathered the worthless and the petty to Your side; please take me in as well. O Lord of the Simple-minded, though You are easily angered by slight faults, do not neglect me; instead, nourish, satisfy, and establish me as Your own. Now, You are my refuge; do not treat me like a stranger. Do not delay, for You are my only support. Recognizing me as a distressed child, protect me; knowing the love I bear for You, O Hanuman, place Your cooling, protective tail upon the arm of Tulsidas.

Surrounded by diseases, ill-fortunes, and wicked people, just as the sun is besieged by a dense gathering of monsoon clouds, my body is afflicted. The rain of pain burns me like the smoldering of a burning bush, and without any fault of mine, my inner essence has become tarnished and dull. O reservoir of compassion, O mighty Hanuman, seeing this, you laughed, and with a mere puff of your breath, you blew away this army of woes. Tulsidas was being devoured by the cruel demons of malignant disease, but you, O son of Kesari, have heroically saved him.

O Hanuman, Lord and noble master, you are forever gracious to the servant of Rama. Like a parent, you have nurtured me from childhood, the source of all my auspicious joy. Today, afflicted by the pain in my arm, I call out to you, having forgotten all worldly delight in my distress. O servant of Raghubir, please remove this suffering, for I lie helpless and broken at your threshold.

The ferocity of time, the severity of karma, the influence of sins, and the madness of the wind (humors) have caused me distress. I have suffered intensely from ailments night and day, which are unbearable; yet, I have sought refuge in that same arm (Hanuman’s) which is the shelter of the Wind-god. O Tulsidas, seeing that you are a tree planted by Him, water it with mercy, for it has withered due to the scorching heat of the three afflictions. O Treasure of Compassion, the ways of all—whether one’s own or another’s, whether ghosts or humans—are known to You, O Rama’s envoy.

Pain in my hands, pain in my stomach, pain in my arms, pain in my mouth; my entire body is shattered and filled with pain. Gods, spirits, ancestors, destiny, wicked men, time, and planetary influences have all descended upon me like an onslaught of cannon fire. I have been sold without a price since my very childhood, having inscribed the refuge of Rama's name upon my forehead. Like the sage Agastya who contained the ocean in a hollowed hoof-print, my troubles are vast, yet I am drowning in them; Oh Lord Rama, has such a plight ever befallen anyone else?

The wretched Bahuk, Subahuk, and the treacherous Marich have united, and these vile diseases, which are like demons of facial pain, have emerged. I wish to chant the holy name of Ram with deep devotion; what are these messengers of death and ghosts to me? Remember that Ram and Lakhan, the two syllables that assist, whose very presence makes the entire world alert. Tulsidas, recall how He destroyed the formidable warrior Tadaka; He pierces through these ailments like a mighty archer striking a banyan tree with His arrows.

In my childhood, I turned my mind towards Rama, and by chanting His name, I survived by begging for morsels of food. While entangled in worldly customs, I nurtured a pure love for King Rama, yet out of delusion, I recklessly broke away from that path. I practiced base and unworthy conduct, but the Son of Anjani (Hanuman) purified me with Rama’s grace. I, Tulsidas, forgot the Lord during my dark days, and now I am finally reaping the fruits of that ripening karma.

Seeing me bereft of food and clothing, steeped in dire sorrow, wretched, and emaciated, no one else would cry out in pity for me. Yet, the Lord of the Raghus, the Ocean of Compassion, made this orphan whole, granting me the fruits of His own innate nature. But I, a lowly wretch, finding prestige in the interim, became puffed up with pride, forsaking the service of the Lord in thought, word, and deed. It is because of this that my body is now seen afflicted by severe boils, as if the salt of the Lord’s grace is erupting and oozing out of me.

I live in this world calling myself the servant of the life-breath of Janaki (Sita), and if I am to die, I have the holy water of the Ganges in Varanasi. For Tulsidas, there is a sweetmeat in both hands at such a place, that neither in life nor in death will one have to worry or quarrel. People may call me true or false as a devotee of Rama, but my heart acknowledges neither Lord Shiva nor Lord Vishnu (except Him). I am distressed by severe and unbearable pain in my body; who else but Raghuvir (Rama) can remove it?

O Lord of Sita, Hanuman, you are my eternal support, just as Mahesh (Shiva) is the revered Guru of beneficial teachings. With mind, word, and deed, I have sought refuge at your feet; trusting in you alone, I recognize no other god. Whether it be an illness, a disturbance caused by spirits, or the mischief of some wicked person, recognize Tulsidas as your own true devotee and bring an end to these troubles. O Lord of the monkeys, Lord of the Raghus, Lord of the innocent, and Lord of all beings, why do you not dry up this ocean of my afflictions just as easily as a cow’s hoof-print?

Tell this to Hanuman, and to the wise King Rama, and to Shankara, the treasure-house of compassion; listen attentively. The entire world, created by Brahma, is seen to be filled with joy and sorrow, attachment and anger, virtues and vices. The Vedas truly declare and the mind contemplates that Rama alone is the creator of Maya, the living soul, time, and the dispositions of karma. What is it that cannot be achieved by You? Oh, please explain this to me, for I remain silent, having realized this truth; may You perceive it.