Jhamajjham Iti Varsati

Jhamajjham Iti Varsati

Rupa Goswami has written this song “Jhamajjham Iti Varsati”. This song is taken from the book Stavamala. In this song, Rupa Goswami describes the divine pastime when Sri Krishna lifted the Govardhana Hill on a small little finger of his left hand to protect the residents of Vrndavana from the wrath of Indra.

(1)
jhamajjham iti varṣati stanita-cakra-vikrīḍayā
vimuṣṭa-ravi-maṇḍale ghana-ghaṭābhir ākhaṇḍale
rarakṣa dharaṇidharoddhṛti-paṭuḥ kuṭumbāni yaḥ
sa dāraytu dāruṇam- vraja-purandaras te daram

(2)
mahā-hetu-vādair vidīrṇendra-yāgaḿ
giri-brāhmaṇopāsti-vistīrṇa-rāgam
sapady eka-yuktī-kṛtābhīra-vargaḿ
puro datta-govardhana-kṣmābhṛd-argham

(3)
priyāśaḿsinībhir dalottaḿsinībhir
virājat-paṭābhiḥ kumārī-ghaṭābhiḥ
stavadbhiḥ kumārair api sphāra-tāraiḥ
saha vyākirantam- prasūnair dharam- tam

(4)
giri-sthūla-dehena bhuktopahāraḿ
vara-śreṇi-santoṣitābhīra-dāram
samuttuńga-śṛńgāvalī-baddha-cailaḿ
kramāt priyamāṇaḿ parikramya śailam

(5)
makha-dhvaḿsa-samrambhataḥ svarga-nāthe
samantāt kilārabdha-goṣṭha-pramāthe
muhur varṣati cchanna-dik-cakravāle
sa-dambholi-nirghoṣam ambhoda-jāle

(6)
muhur vṛṣṭi-khinnāḿ paritrāsa-bhinnāḿ
vrajeśa-pradhānaḿ taṭiḿ ballavānām
vilokyāpta-śītāḿ gavālīḿ ca bhītāḿ
kṛpābhiḥ samunnaḿ suhṛt-prema-nunnam

(7)
tataḥ savya-hastena hastīndra-khelaḿ
samuddhṛtya govardhanaḿ sāvahelam
adabhraḿ tam abhraḿlihaḿ śaila-rājaḿ
mudā bibhrataḿ vibhramaj-jantu-bhājam

(8)
pravṛṣṭāsi mātaḥ kathaḿ śoka-bhāre
paribhrājamāne sute mayy udāre
abhūvan bhavanto vinaṣṭopasargā
na citte vidhatta bhramaḿ bandhu-vargāḥ

(9)
hatā tāvad ītir vidheyā na bhītiḥ
kṛteyaḿ viśālā mayā śaila-śālā
tad asyāḿ praharṣād avajñāta-varṣā
                                       vihasyāmareśaḿ kurudhvaḿ praveśam                                 

(10)
iti svairam āzśvāsitair gopa-vṛndaiḥ
parānanda-sandīpitāsyāravindaiḥ
girer gatram āsādya harmyopamānaḿ
cireṇāti-hṛṣṭaiḥ pariṣṭūyamānam

(11)
girīndraḿ guruḿ komale pañca-śākhe
kathaḿ hanta dhatte sakhā te viśākhe
purastād amuḿ prekṣya hā cintayedaḿ
muhur māmakīnāḿ mano yāti bhedam

(12)
sthanadbhiḥ kaṭhore ghanair dhvānta-ghore
bhramad-vāta-māle hatāśe ‘tra kāle
ghana-sparśi-kūṭaḿ vahann anna-kūṭaḿ
kathaḿ syān na kāntaḥ sarojākṣi tāntaḥ

(13)
na tiṣṭhanti goṣṭhe kaṭhorāńga-daṇḍāḥ
kiyanto ‘tra gopāḥ samantāt pracaṇḍāḥ
ṣirīṣa-prasūnāvalī-saukumarye
dhṛtā dhūr iyaḿ bhūrir asmin kim ārye

 (14)
gire tāta govardhana prārthaneyaḿ
vapuḥ sthūla-nālī-laghiṣṭhaḿ vidheyam
bhavantaḿ yathā dhārayann eṣa haste
na dhatte śramaḿ mańgalātman namas te

(15)
bhramat-kuntalānta-smita-dyota-kāntaḿ
lasad-gaṇḍa-śobhaḿ kṛtāśeṣa-lobham
sphuran-netra-lāsyaḿ murāres tvam āsyaḿ
varākūṭa-śālī sphuṭaḿ lokayāli

(16)
nipīyeti rādhā-latā-vāń-marandaḿ
vara-prema-saurabhya-pūrād amandam
dadhānaḿ madaḿ bhṛńgavat tuńga-kūjaḿ
varāńgī-calāpańga-bhańgāpta-pūjam

(17)
kathaḿ nāma dadhyāt kṣudākṣāma-tundaḥ
śiśur me gariṣṭhaḿ girīndraḿ mukundaḥ
tad etasya tuṇḍe haṭhād arpayāraḿ
vrajādhīśa dadhnācitaḿ khaṇḍasāram

(18)
mahā-bhāra-niṣṭhe sthite te kaniṣṭhe
labhe vatsa nīlāmbaroddāma-pīḍām
avaṣṭabhya sattvaḿ tad asmai bala tvaḿ
dadasvāvilambaḿ sva-hastāv alambam

(19)
iti snigdha-varṇaḿ samākarṇayantaḿ
giraḿ mātur enāḿ ca nirvarṇayantam
kaniṣṭhāgguli-śṛńga-vinyasta-gotraḿ
pariprīnita-vyagra-gopāla-gotram

(20)
amībhiḥ prabhāvaiḥ kuto ‘bhūd akuṇṭhaḥ
śiśur dhūli-kelī-paṭuḥ kṣīra-kaṇṭhaḥ
bibharty adya saptābdiko bhūri-bhāraḿ
giriḿ yac cirād eṣa kailāsa-sāram

(21)
na śańkhā dhara bhraḿśane ‘smākam asmān
nakhāgre sa-helaḿ vahaty eṣa yasmāt
girir dik-karīndrāgra-haste dharāvad
bhuje paśyatāsya sphuraty adya tāvat

(22)
iti sphāratārekṣaṇair mukta-bhogair
vrajendreṇa sārdhaḿ dhṛta-prīti-yogaiḥ
muhur ballavair vīkṣyamānāsya-candraḿ
puraḥ sapta-rātrāntara-tyakta-tandram

(23)
taḍid-dāma-kīrṇān samīrair udīrṇān
visṛṣṭāmbudhārān dhanur-yaṣṭi-hārān
tṛṇī-kṛtya ghorān sahasrāḿśu-caurān
durantoru-śabdān kṛtāvajñam abdān

(24)
ahańkāra-pańkāvalī-lupta-dṛṣṭer
vrajeṣāvadiṣṭaḿ praṇītoru-vṛṣṭeḥ
balāreś ca durmānitāḿ visphurantaḿ
nirākṛtya duṣṭāli-daṇḍe durantam

(25)
visṛṣtoru-nīrāḥ sa-jhañjha-samīrās
taḍidbhiḥ karālā yayur megha-mālā
raviś cāmbarāntar vibhāty eṣa śāntaḥ
kṛtānanda-pūrāḥ bahir yāta śūrāḥ

(26)
iti procya niḥsārita-jñāti-vāraḿ
yathāpūrva-vinyasta-śailendra-bhāram
dadhi-kṣira-lājāńkhurair bhāvinībhir
mudā kīryamāṇaḿ yaśastāvinībhiḥ

(27)
vayaḿ hanta govinda saundaryavantaḿ
namaskurmahe śarma-hetor bhavantam
tvayi spaṣṭa-niṣṭhyūta-bhūyaś-cid-induḿ
mudā naḥ prasādī-kuru prema-bindum

(28)
kṣubhyad-dambholi-jṛmbhottarala-ghana-ghaṭārambha-gambhīra-karmā
nistambho jambhavairī giri-dhṛti-caṭulād vikramād yena cakre
tanvā nindantam indīvara-dala-valabhī-nandad-indīndarābhāḿ
tam- govindādya nandālaya-śaśi-vadanānanda vandemahi tvām

(1) May the king of Vraja, who, when Indra covered the sun with clouds and sent great rains making tumultuous sounds of jhamajjham with the playing of thunder, protected His relatives by lifting a great hill, break apart all your fears.
(2)-(11) O Lord who, by speaking with great logi stopped the indra-yajna, who is very attached to worshiping the brahmanas and Govardhana Hill, who convinced the cowherd men in a moment, who at once began the worship of Govardhana Hill, who, along with the gopi girls speaking words of praise and dressed in splendid garments and crowns of flower petals, and also along with the gopa boys loudly speaking many prayers, showered flowers on the hill, who assumed a form as large as a mountain and ate the offered foodstuffs, who pleased the gopis by fulfilling all their desires, who decorated the hill’s peaks with many flags, who pleased the hill by circumambulating it, who, when, because the indra-yajna was stopped the king of Svarga filled the horizons with thundering clouds showering rain to destroy Vraja, You saw Nanda and the other gopas distressed by the constant rain and broken with fear and the cows cold and fightened, then, impelled by love for Your friends and melting with compassion, with Your left hand, to everyone’s astonishment, like a playful regal elephant, casually and happily lifted and continued to hold Govardhana Hill, the great regal mountain that licks the sky who said: “O mother, why are you unhappy when Your son is noble and generous? Friends, your troubles are over. Have no doubts in your hearts. These troubles are over. Do not be afraid. I have now made this hill into a great house. Don’t take this rain seriously. Laugh at Indra and enter here who was again and again glorified by the gopas, as, with lotus faces glowing with transcendental happiness, and breathing a sigh of relief, they entered the palace-like cavity under the hill, about whom Sri Radha’ said: “Visakha, how is it that your friend is now holding the great, heavy mountain on His delicate five fingers? When I see Him in this way My mind splits with anxiety.
(12) O lotus-eyed one, how is it that at this time, when the directions are darkened with terrible thundering clouds and garlanded with hurricane winds, My lover does not feel tired by lifting this great hill, which has just eaten so many offerings of food, and which has many tall peaks that touch the sky?
(13) In Vraja are there not many powerful gopa men, their bodies hard with muscles? O noble lady, why should the heavy, shaking hill be held by someone as delicate as a host of sirisa flowers?
(14) O Father Govardhana, I pray to you: Please become as light as a big kadamba flower so He will not become tired as He holds you in His hand. O auspicious one, I bow down and offer My respectful obeisances to you. O sincere and noble friend, please gaze now at Murari’s face, splendid with a smile at the edge of its moving locks of hair, with glistening cheeks and the dancing of glittering eyes, and deeply in love with us all who became like an intoxicated, loudly humming black bee drinking from the flowering vine of Radha’s voice this honey, which was sweeter than the flood of the sweet fragrance of the purest love, who was worshiped by the waves of beautiful Radha’s restless sidelong glances, about whom Mother Yasoda said: “How can my boy Mukunda hold up this heavy king of hills when His stomach has become so thin with hunger? O king of Vraja, you must by force Him to eat by putting this sweetened yogurt in His mouth.
(18)-(27) O Nilambara Balarama, I am pained now that Your younger brother is holding up this great burden. Show Your strength! Lend Him a hand!” who, hearing these affectionate words from His mother and glancing at her, by casually shifting the hill to the tip of the little finger and holding it with bravado, pacified the worried gopas about whom the gopas said: “How did this seven-year-old boy, who still plays in the dust, and who still practically has His mother’s milk in His throat, get the power to lift for so long this hill heavier than Mount Kailasa? Because He holds it on the tip of His finger with such casual playfulness, we do not fear the hill will fall. Look! The hill in His hand is like the earth at the end of the trunk of the regal elephants that hold up the directions, on the moon of whose face King Nanda and the gopas, who had completely given up eating and who were full of transcendental love, gazed with the great stars of wide-open eyes, who gave up sleeping for seven nights, who mocked Indra’s terrible, lightning-filled, sun-eclipsing, ferociously-thundering clouds propelled by hurricane winds and garlanded with rainbows, who drove away the false pride of blinded-with-the mud-of-ego, rain-sending Indra, who restored prosperity to Vraja, who shows no limit in punishing the wicked who said: “The great rains, the hurricane winds making sounds of jhanjha, the lightning, and the terrible garlands of clouds have all gone. The sun peacefully shines in the sky. O heroes flooded with bliss, now you may all go outside,” who after speaking these words made Your kinsmen go out, who placed the great hill where it was before, and whom the beautiful gopis showered with yogurt, milk, grains, and sprouts, O handsome Lord Govinda, we happily bow down to offer our respects to You. Please be kind and give to us a drop of the pure love that completely eclipses the moon of non-devotional philosophy.
(28) O Lord who by strongly lifting Govardhana Hill humbled Indra who shook his thunderbolt and sent many terrible clouds, O Lord who with Your transcendental form eclipses the splendor of swarms of black bees delighted by palace roofs decorated with blue lotus petals, O Lord Govinda, O bliss of Nanda’s house, I offer my respectful obeisances unto You.