JOURNAL OF VAISHNAVA STUDIES

Volume 22 No. 2 Spring 2014

Introduction 1
Jon Paul Sydnor/ Jaimini, Shankara, and the Alvars: Ramanuja’s 5
Enduring Synthesis
Greg Jay/The Āḻvārs: An Overview 23
Thomas A. Forsthoefel/“Praying with the Poets: Resonance and 53
Recognition of the Arc of the Heart”
Charlotte Radler and Tracy Sayuki Tiemeier/The Agonies and 81
Ecstasies of Erotic Love: Āṇṭāḷ and Hadewijch on the Divine-
Human relationship
Ilanit Loewy Shacham/ Divine and Human agency in Kṛṣṇadevarāya’s 103
Retelling of the Story of Āṇṭāḷ
Archana Venkatesan/A Tale of Two Cēvais: Araiyar Cēvai and Kaittala 125
Cēvai at the Āṇṭāḷ Temple in Srivilliputtur Majnun
Sushumna Kannan/Rethinking Femininity and Transgression in Andal 147
Suganya Anandakichenin/Kulacēkara Āḻvār’s ‘The Lament of Daśaratha’ 167
Aleksandar Uskokov/Mukundamālā of Kulaśekhara Āḻvār: A Translation 203
Vasudha Narayanan/Social and Bhakti Hierarchies in Interpreting the 221
Life of Tiruppāṇ Āḻvār
Patricia Y. Mumme/The Salvation of Nammāḻvār in Śrīvaiṣṇavism 247
Lynn Ate/The Profane as Sacred: Tirumankai Āḻvār’s Rants Against God 263
Bharati Jagannathan/Tales of Violence in Śrīvaiṣṇava Hagiographies 287
Book Review 301
About the Authors 309
 Mukundamālā of Kulaśekhara Āḻvār: A Translation
Aleksandar Uskokov

T he “royal sage” among the Āḻvārs, Kulaśekhara, may have been a king
from the Chera dynasty that ruled parts of Kerala from the 9th century
on and whose leaders customarily bore the title “Kulaśekhara.” From
Śrīvaiṣṇava hagiographies it appears that he abdicated the throne to become
a devotee-ascetic living in Śrīraṅgam. He is unique among the Āḻvārs as being
the only one to whom both Sanskrit and Tamil works are attributed. According
to tradition, he wrote two works: the Perumāḷ Tirumoḻi, a composition of 105
verses written in “the divine Drāviḍa language” (Anantācārya’s Prapannamṛtam,
87.119), and the Sanskrit Mukundamālā. His name was serendipitously launched
into international fame in 1996, when a British rock band consisting of
followers of Bhaktivedānta Swami Prabhupāda, the founder of the Hare Krishna
movement and a fan of the Mukundamālā, took the name “Kula Shaker,” hit
No.1 on the UK Albums Chart, and had a number of Top 10 hits on the UK
Singles Chart.1 This introduction to the translation will be primarily about the
hagiographical account of Kulaśekhara Āḻvār; my finding is that the story of
Kulaśekhara as found in Anantācārya’s Prapannāmṛtam is coordinated with the
themes dominant in the Mukundamālā. In the second part I will say a few things
about the poem itself.
Śrīvaiṣṇava hagiographies say that Kulaśekhara was an incarnation of the
kaustubha, Viṣṇu’s divine jewel-ornament and one of the many creations of
the churning of the ocean. His birth is placed in the beginning of Kaliyuga in
Kollinagar or Kolipaṭṭana, which was likely a place near the Kolli Hills.2 The
Prapannāmṛtam says that the name of his capital was Tāmracūḍa. Here I sum-
marize his story as narrated in the Prapannāmṛtam,3 using present tense to bring
the narrative to life and to indicate that we are retelling a story and not recon-
structing history.
Kulaśekhara’s father, king Dṛḍhavrata, rules the Chera kingdom. He wants to

203
204 Journal of Vaishnava Studies

have a son very much and pleases Lord Hari for that purpose, as did Daśaratha the
father of Rāma in the olden days. As a result, Hari gives him not only a son, but an
incarnation of his own kaustubha jewel. Then, in the fullness of time, Dṛḍhavrata
goes to the forest to become an ascetic and entrusts the throne to his son.
The son is an excellent ruler, and his kingdom is like Rāmarājya. But he
pursues worldly fame more than devotion. The Lord has to intervene: he puri-
fies him from the qualities of tamas and rajas (inertia and passion), and makes
him strong in sattva (goodness). He then sends the divine general Viśvaksena,
who personally initiates and instructs Kulaśekhara, bringing him to Vaikuṇṭha,
“Viṣṇu’s heaven.” There he shows him the form, opulence and qualities of
the Lord, after which Kulaśekhara is freed from the wheel of transmigration.
Kulaśekhara laments his past life and resolves to renounce all attachments, take
shelter in Rāma, abandon the kingdom and live the life of a servant.
Soon after returning to Earth, he happens to listen to a Raṅgamāhātmya4
and learns that the mere desire to live in Śrīraṅgam delivers one from saṁsāra,
not to speak of taking up permanent residence there. Becoming obsessed with
making pilgrimage, Kulaśekhara roams about his capital crying out, “Pilgrim-
age to Raṅgakṣetra! Pilgrimage to Raṅgakṣetra!” His ministers reflect: if he goes
to Śrīraṅgam but once, he will not come back, for “seeing with one’s own eyes
the charming form of Raṅganātha, who could possibly turn back?”5 Therefore,
they decide that he must be stopped and conclude that only Vaiṣṇavas can con-
vince him to stay. They send Vaiṣṇavas to him, and they tell him that serving
Vaiṣṇavas is much more beneficial than attending to Viṣṇu himself. He takes
their words to heart, stays in the capital and attends to the Vaiṣṇavas with great
devotion: he serves them choicest food, attends to them while they are eating,
takes their remnants and water in which their feet were washed, provides fine
dress and ornaments for them and listens to their accounts of the Lord day and
night. (It was during this time, the author of the Prapannāmṛtam surmises, that
he wrote the Mukundamālā.)
Then a thought occurs to him: when Rāma, who is to be known by the Veda,
was born as a human being, the Veda appeared with him in the form of Rāmāyaṇa.
Hearing the Rāmāyaṇa, therefore, is the only means of liberation. Thus he
becomes utterly devoted to Śrī Rāma and listens to Rāmāyaṇa stories all the time.
One time when Rāma’s battle with Khara and Dūṣaṇa is being narrated, he hears
that Rāma alone was fighting fourteen thousand Rākṣasas. He is overcome by
love and, unable to tolerate such an unrighteous battle, quickly takes his bow
and arrows, draws out his sword and begins to bring his army to the Daṇḍaka
forest in order to provide assistance. Seeing this hasty expedition, his ministers
 Mukundamālā of Kulaśekhara Āḻvār 205

are astonished and once again send Vaiṣṇavas to stop him. The Vaiṣṇavas come
before him as if coming back from the battle site and tell him that Rāma had
already killed fourteen thousand Rakṣasas in a split second. The king is happy
and returns home pacified.
After this, his devotion increases still further, and he spends all his time with
Vaiṣṇavas. He practices silence and listens constantly to the Purāṇas and the
Rāmāyaṇa, his eyes filled with tears of joy and his body all in goose bumps. The
Vaiṣṇavas become aware of his emotional volatility and avoid the Rāmāyaṇa
stories in which Rāma is in some trouble, but narrate only about his victories.
One day, however, the reciter has some business to attend to and sends his son
in his stead. The son is unaware of the king’s emotions, recites Rāmāyaṇa in its
proper sequence and comes to the story where Rāvaṇa abducts Sītā. Hearing
this, the king has a fit of anger, like a snake hit on the tail, and publicly declares
that he will leap over the ocean, burn Laṅkā to ashes, kill Rāvaṇa in battle with
all his wives, sons, ministers, friends, acquaintances and relatives and bring his
mother Sītā back. He grabs his bow, arrows and sword and sets off for Laṅkā,
followed by his army.
All the gods come in their flying saucers to witness this marvelous event and
just as the king plunges into the ocean, Rāma, accompanied by Lakṣmaṇa and
Sītā, appears before him and tells him: “My dear Kulaśekhara, why this grue-
some toil? I have come now, having already killed Rāvaṇa with his sons, friends
and relatives and having taken Sītā back. Look, there is Sītā, your mother!” The
king pays homage to them and comes out to the shore. Rāma directs him and
his army towards the capital and disappears. Not able to see Rāma any longer,
the king is pained and swoons. He awakes, however, in an instant, but is disap-
pointed, like a man no longer seeing the wealth obtained in a dream. In any
case, he now remembers the full story from the Rāmāyaṇa, from Sītā’s abduction
to her rescue, regains his composure and returns to the city.
As time goes on, Kulaśekhara’s ministers begin to dislike the fact that he
spends all his time with Vaiṣṇavas—he’s become their servant and made the
kingdom subject to them. The Vaiṣṇavas do not observe etiquette: they come
and go as they please, to the palace, the harem, the dining room, and the king
longs for their company all the time. When they come, he is overjoyed by the
mere sight of them: he jumps from the throne and leaves whatever business he
was doing, however important it may be. The ministers have to intervene. They
come to the king and tell him that his behavior is not becoming of a king: he
ought to look after the protection of his subjects, make sure that all four castes
keep to their respective duties, and above all listen to his ministers, who are
206 Journal of Vaishnava Studies

wise and expert advisors. If he does that, he will enjoy heaven on earth.
The king smiles at this and says that only Vaiṣṇavas can give good advice
in terms of liberation and prosperity. They are his life’s breath. He entrusts
ruling the kingdom to the ministers and immerses himself in discussions on
reality (tattvārtha) with Vaiṣṇavas. The ministers, however, turn wicked and
seek means to separate the king from the Vaiṣṇavas. An opportunity comes
their way: one night the king in all his royal accouterment sits on the throne
surrounded by Purāṇa reciters, poets, ministers, priests, and shines like the
moon surrounded by the stars. The Vaiṣṇavas come, the king rises from his
seat, attends to them and loses his mind in Rāma. At the second watch of
the night, he strips off his jewelry to take a bath. After the bath he feeds the
Vaiṣṇavas, eats himself and takes rest. Waking up, he wants to go to the assem-
bly hall and summons his attendants: “I’ve left my ornaments in the hall, on
my throne. Bring them here.” But, the ornaments are not there. The servants
report the matter to him. He calls for the ministers and fumes at the guards:
“How is it possible that you did not see the thieves if you stand there all the
time and guard? Bring the ornaments to me right away, or death will be your
punishment!” This is the opportunity the ministers have been looking for. They
approach and say that only the Vaiṣṇavas had access to the royal hall at the
time. No one else could have stolen the ornaments.
The king is pained by these false reports. He scolds the ministers and uses
the occasion to present a scheme of gradation of sin and means of expiation: (1)
Ordinary worldly sins are annulled by remembering Lord Hari; (2) Sins against
Hari are annulled by praising Vaiṣṇavas; (3) There are, however, no means of
annulling the effects of offenses against the Vaiṣṇavas. If he does not punish
them, he would be an accomplice in such a sin.
First, however, he has to clear the good name of the Vaiṣṇavas. He summons
all the townsfolk, orders a venomous snake to be put in a nearby pitcher and
proclaims: “Vaiṣṇavas long neither for enjoyment nor for liberation: surely they
cannot be thieves! If what I say is true, the snake will not bite me.” He plunges
his hand in the pitcher and takes out the snake unharmed. The celestials send
showers of flowers and Rāma himself appears again, happy that the king con-
siders the Vaiṣṇavas to be more venerable than Viṣṇu himself. Rāma offers the
king a boon, but the latter asks only for firm devotion to his devotees. Rāma is
overjoyed and decides to become his relative: he will take his daughter, an aṁśa
of Bhūdevī,6 in marriage. Kulaśekhara marries his daughter to Raṅganātha, who
then departs to his abode. The ministers repent; Kulaśekhara pardons them,
installs his son as the king and immerses himself in the Rāmāyaṇa.
 Mukundamālā of Kulaśekhara Āḻvār 207

Here the hagiographer curiously repeats the last story with minor differenc-
es, but as if coming in succession of the first story and not as its variant. Likely
he had two versions of the same story, but didn’t want to give preference to one
over the other. The second version transpires as follows: It is Rāmanavamī, and
the whole of Tāmracūḍa is celebrating. It is particularly festive in Kulaśekhara’s
home. During the ceremony of bathing the deities of Sītā-Rāma, the temple
priest takes off the priceless ornaments, places them somewhere and then
performs the abhiṣeka. As everyone is celebrating, the ministers go bad again
and steal and hide a priceless necklace, unnoticed by anyone. When it is time
to dress the deity, the Vaiṣṇava priests see that a necklace is missing and once
again raise the alarm.
The king is informed and summons the ministers: they have to deliberate
and bring the thief immediately. The ministers accuse the Vaiṣṇavas. Who else
could have stolen the Lord’s property? They are the appointed priests, and
they handle the riches all the time unrestrictedly. If they are checked, the king
gets mad. The king is angered again, repeats the offenses-to-Vaiṣṇavas talk and
vows to counter the slanderous defamation. A snake in a pitcher is brought: if
the Vaiṣṇavas did not take the necklace, it will not bite. Indeed, it does not bite
him. The ministers apologize and beg for pardon, but this time he’s had enough.
“The hell of living with those who are averse to thinking about the Lord is not
preferable to living inside a cave burning in fire.” He installs his son Dṛḍhavrata
as the king and goes to Raṅgakṣetra. There he offers his daughter in marriage
to Raṅganātha and takes his permanent residence in service to the Lord and
the devotees. It is there that he writes Perumāḷ Tirumoḻi. He visits the Śrīvaiṣṇava
Divya Deśams (holy places) and after 67 years of earthly life attains Vaikuṇṭha.
The story of Kulaśekhara bears the well-known hallmarks of South Asian
hagiographies in general, and Vaiṣṇava in particular. Kulaśekhara’s birth is
divine: his father, who is literally likened to Rāma’s father Daśaratha, gets a
successor only after performing numerous rituals, the most important among
which is the Aśvamedha. The boy is a prodigy: he quickly learns all the Vedas
and sciences, including the Dhanur Veda. The name which he is given is not
chosen randomly: he will come to be the peak of the dynasty, its telos as it
were (kula-śekhara—the top, crest of the family). Again and again he is com-
pared to Rāma—his rule is like Rāmarājya, he commands an army like that of
Rāma—but he is also compared to Rāma’s most prominent devotees as well:
Vibhīṣaṇa, whose verses he repeats after the vision of the Lord in Vaikuṇṭha,
and Hanumān, like whom he will jump over the ocean to Laṅkā in order to res-
cue mother Sītā.
208 Journal of Vaishnava Studies

The story is, then, used as a vehicle for sending messages about matters that
are important to the Śrīvaiṣṇava community. Kulaśekhara is a king, but the text
repeatedly describes him as subject or subservient to the Vaiṣṇavas (vaiṣṇava-
parādhīna). He gives up his kingdom for Hari—who, in fact, gives the hand of his
daughter, the Earth goddess incarnate, in marriage to him—and makes it sub-
ject to the Vaiṣṇavas. Kulaśekhara takes the role of their menial servant, per-
sonally provides for their needs and finds great satisfaction in doing so. Noth-
ing is more important to him than serving the Vaiṣṇavas; they are the breath
that keeps him alive. He fights for their honor, provides them with immediate
access to him, disapproves when they are restricted in any way, and so on. The
Śrīvaiṣṇavas did not always enjoy the good will of South Indian kings and were
an object of severe atrocity from Śaiva and Muslim rulers on several occasions.7
A story of a saintly king, one who favors serving the Vaiṣṇavas more than any-
thing else, is surely an excellent opportunity for the community to express how
it would like any ruler to behave.
Most important, however, is that the hagiography is used for illustrating the
theological doctrine of the Śrīvaiṣṇavas and the values to which the community
subscribes. We see what a life of a Vaiṣṇava should look like. Constant immer-
sion in listening about Viṣṇu and his incarnations; serving Vaiṣṇavas; disinter-
est in worldly matters; veneration of the Divya Deśams, temples and deities;
avoiding offenses to Vaiṣṇavas at all costs; considering Vaiṣṇavas to be worthy
of worship more than Viṣṇu himself—these are all what being a Śrivaiṣṇava
means and how a Śrīvaiṣṇava should live and behave. We also see how the
supremely neutral Viṣṇu becomes particularly and personally interested in
his devotee, to the point where he appears in person to rescue him or protect
the honor of his servants—a central doctrine of Vaiṣṇavism going back at least
to the Bhagavadgītā. Thus the story of Kulaśekhara illustrates the theological
doctrine of the Śrīvaiṣṇava community, but at the same time serves normative
purposes as well.
Significantly, we will see all of the above in the Mukundamālā, as if the hagi-
ographer had the stotra before his eyes and thought, “How might we illustrate
this?” The poet implores the Lord for bhakti throughout the Mukundamālā,
rejects the values of dharma, artha, kāma and mokṣa, does not care what state or
place he is in—heaven or hell—as long as he can be a devotee at the Lord’s feet,
rejects royal and family life as an ocean infested with sharks, shuns all literature
except those that tell about the Lord, declares that the Lord’s lotus feet give
meaning to everything, including Vedic recitation and vows, and professes a
desire to be a servant of the Vaiṣṇavas seven levels remote from the Lord. The
 Mukundamālā of Kulaśekhara Āḻvār 209

poem, moreover, reads like a composition of someone who is love-crazed for

the Lord, which is precisely how Kulaśekhara behaves in the story. The impres-
sion about the author that we get by reading the poem and the character con-
structed by the hagiographer are almost a perfect match.
We can say with considerable certitude that Mukundamālā had attained
significant popularity by the early 13th century, for which there are several
pieces of evidence. The first of these is a 13th-century inscription in Burma in
Tamil characters recording the consecration of a Mandapa.8 The inscription
notes that a Kulaśekhara, Nambi of Mahodayapattinam (the old capital of the
Kulaśekharas) in Kerala, made a provision for setting up a lamp in the temple.
On the heading of the inscription we find one of the most popular verses of
the Mukundamālā, verse 5 in the present translation (Menon, 1996: vi). Perhaps
more important is the inclusion of five verses of the stotra in Śrīdharadāsa’s
Saduktikarṇāmṛta (1205 AD), three of which are likely part of the earliest ver-
sion of the poem (Menon, ibid). The strongest reason to assign an early date to
the stotra is the fact that, though it is unmistakably a Śrīvaiṣṇava stotra, there is
no use of the theological terminology characteristic of Rāmānuja, which is an
omnipresent feature in the stotras of Rāmānuja’s disciples and contemporaries
Kūreśa and Parāśara Bhaṭṭar and in later compositions. It is possible, thus, that
some version of the stotra dates back at least to the 10th century.
The text remains popular in Tamil Nadu, Karnataka and Andhra, in a more
or less stable recension of 40 verses plus the invocation. There are also Kerala
and Kashmir recensions, 31 and 34 verses respectively (Menon, 1996: viii). The
important Sanskrit commentary of Raghavānanda has 46 verses (Menon, 1996:
ibid), and the composite edition-cum-translation of Menon, including all verses
from all recensions and from anthologies that attribute verses to Kulaśekhara,
has 58 verses plus the colophon and a concluding phalaśruti.
Since it is possibly the first Śrīvaiṣṇava Sanskrit stotra (in the Stotramālā
collection, in which Śrīvaiṣṇava stotras seem to be arranged in a chronologi-
cal sequence, it appears as the first text), Mukundamālā could be a work which
introduces the genre and sets some of its defining characteristics. Nancy
Ann Nayar (Nayar, 1992: 9 and 16) has identified several central features of
Śrīvaiṣṇava stotra, which we do find in the Mukundamālā: (1) Translation of Āḻvār
imagery and phraseology into Sanskrit; (2) Emotional outpourings; (3) Passages
of self-deprecation; (4) Tone of a personal relationship of the devotee with the
Lord evident in the constant use of personal address in the vocative case; (5)
Praise of the deity’s qualities, pastimes, functions etc. by means of epithets; (6)
Reference to mythical themes. It could well be the case that Mukundamālā was,
210 Journal of Vaishnava Studies

in fact, the blueprint that the later stotras of Kūreśa and Parāśara Bhaṭṭar used as
a model. The project that Kūreśa and Bhaṭṭar undertook was very complex: they
sought to integrate the Tamil poetry of the Āḻvārs with the Sanskrit Upaniṣadic
theology of Rāmānuja. Their stotras are, as noted by Nayar, highly personal. “The
theological vision which underlies these verses [in the stotras of Kūreśa and
Bhaṭṭar] frequently shows itself to be permeated with the poets’ own experience
of God.” (Nayar, 1992: 7) Nevertheless, they are also highly formulaic insofar
as they set to verse the prose theology of Rāmānuja, following his terminology
often to the letter. Mukundamālā, on the other hand, has much of the first (a tone
of highly emotional and personal relationship of a devotee with the Lord) and
very little of the second (its theology is not very formal).
Seen as poetry, it is also unique. It pays particular attention to poetic beauty
and some of its verses are comparable to the finest Sanskrit compositions, but
it does not seem to share all the ideals of classical Sanskrit kāvya. Since its place
is not strictly in the realm of the theological—it is not an aesthetic vehicle for
formal theology as in the case of Kūreśa and Bhaṭṭar—it seems to me that we can
understand it as one of the first attempts of devotee-poets (if not the very first)
at appropriating the standards of classical Sanskrit kāvya which begins with
the single assumption that whatever is written in verse has to be beautiful, but
which develops in later Vaiṣṇavism into full acceptance of kāvya as a form but
not contents. Let me expand a little on this.
A poem of a mere 40 verses, Mukundamālā is a remarkable poetic achieve-
ment. Two things about it immediately capture our attention: the extent to
which alliteration is present, and the number of highly poetic meters that are
employed. Vasantatilaka, Mālinī, Indravajrā, Upendravajrā, Mandākrānta,
Rathoddatā, Sragdharā, Śālinī, Upajāti, Vaṁśasthavila, Indravaṁśā,
Śārdūlavikrīḍita as well as some uneven meters and not a single Anuṣṭubh in 40
verses—that certainly is a strong statement of one’s poetic aspirations. Further,
alliteration is its omnipresent feature. If we analyze, for instance, verse three,
we will notice the repetition of the consonant cluster nt in pāda A, bhavantam
ekāntam iyantam, and variants of the verbal root √bhū: bhave bhave me ‘stu bhavat-
prasādāt. Moving to verse four, we notice in pāda A the use of a word and its
opposite, dvandvam advandva-hetoḥ, the use of the negated infinitive in the end
of pādas B and C, nāpanetum and nāpi rantum, and again almost a full line of vari-
ants of the root √bhū in pāda D, none of which is the same as in verse 3: bhāve
bhāve hṛdaya-bhavane bhāvayeyam bhavantam. Verse 5 is again more of the root
√bhū as well as a host of other instances of the consonant bh, and by now we
notice that the author favors repeating a word in the distributive sense: janma-
 Mukundamālā of Kulaśekhara Āḻvār 211

janmāntare ‘pi. In pāda A of verse 6 we have a consonant followed by vā twice:

divi vā bhuvi vā, then a multitude of the labial p in verse 7. There is no need to
go further, as practically every verse is an instant of alliteration. Noticeably,
however, we find no instances of the complex sound-figures called yamakas, and
the verses read both beautifully and easily. It is clearly not a goal of the author
to make the audience ponder over words so as to detract from immediate com-
prehension; he does not want to show off his poetic skills. What he wants is to
create accessible beauty, a piece that will be charming but intelligible. Aesthetic
rapture is the goal, but it mainly comes from the beauty of the verbal composi-
tion and only secondarily from implied or suggested meaning. The poem abounds
in direct speech.
That is not to say that implied speech is absent, as the poem also abounds
in Śrīvaiṣṇava imagery; but only occasionally do we find that rasa-producing
characteristic of classical kāvya. For instance, Viṣṇu is compared to a rescue
boat in the ocean of life, filled with the torments, winds, sharks and whirlpools
of wives, sons etc. Not that the text has anything against water: Viṣṇu is also
the refreshing pond filled with lotuses—his hands and feet—and fish that are
his eyes. The poem aptly works the imagery of water as drowning those with-
out rescue and refreshing the exhausted. There are, then, endless references
to Kṛṣṇa’s lotus feet—again an image of saving transcendence—as well as to
his name and the mantra oṁ namo nārāyaṇāya, which are the medicine for the
disease that is saṁsāra. Verse 22 borrows directly from the language of erotic
poetry, the domain of śṛṅgāra-rasa: Rukminī’s breasts, clouds and cātaka birds.
In verse 7 we encounter the important paranomastic image of the mind as
the goose of the Mānasa lake, an important image both in classical kāvya and
Vaiṣṇavism. The dominant tone and the context in which these are used is not
the aesthetic; rather, it is the soteriological: the poet prays for immediate death
now while he is still in his prime, lest he be incapable of thinking of the Lord at
the time of death.
The symbolism, in other words, is dominantly religious; the aesthetics of the
poem has soteriological overtones. The poem wants to produce aesthetic rap-
ture, but I do not see it trying to situate itself within the frame of rasa poetry. It
is a first attempt in Sanskrit devotional poetry, an attempt that will develop in a
full-fledged Śrīvaiṣṇava stotra genre with Yāmuna, Kureśa and Bhaṭṭar, but will
also contribute to the development of Vaiṣṇava kāvya proper. Bhaṭṭar’s descrip-
tion of stotras as verses recited “for pure delight” (Nayar, 1992: 24) seems like a
perfect characterization of the Mukundamālā, and it makes sense to guess that
he might have precisely our poem in mind. But this delight is not quite rasa.
212 Journal of Vaishnava Studies

It might be useful here to refer to the Bhāgavata in order to understand what

it is exactly that the author of Mukundamālā is doing. To reiterate, it seems that
the Mukundamālā sets the formal standard of beautiful devotional poetry—mel-
lifluous verses in highly stylized meters—but that such beauty serves sote-
riological purposes. The poet, in fact, is not interested in literature as such, but
only in literature about bhakti: “May I not disregard the literary compositions
about your deeds and listen to other narrations.” (Verse 15) Moving to the
Bhāgavata, we see the same attitude to literature other than the devotional:
“Those who are thoughtful consider the speech which does not extol the glory
of Hari, which sanctifies the world, though it may be full of excellent words, to
be a ford for crows, where geese, residing in the truly pleasurable, find no joy
whatsoever. On the other hand, the literature in which the names are marks of
glory of the limitless Lord in every verse, though it may be poorly composed,
purifies the sins of men, for the accomplished listen, sing and call out these
names.”9
The image is very graphic: the true geese of the Mānasa lake—a favorite
image both for the poets and the devotees, with the shared connotation of sanc-
tity because of the association with the mental or the spiritual, as well as of the
ability to separate the milk of truth and beauty from the water of everything
else that is insignificant—are only the devotees, because what is important is
not beauty itself, but the Lord. Mere beautiful words are no better than the
crowing of ravens. But make no mistake—the Bhāgavata candidly subscribes to
the rasa aesthetics and aspires to be beautiful poetry, regardless of the nomi-
nal endorsement of “poor compositions” when they glorify Kṛṣṇa. In the very
beginning of the Bhāgavata, verse 2, the reader, should he be a connoisseur (rasi-
ka), is encouraged to “drink this Bhāgavata, which is rasa.” It is with this in view,
I think, that we can fully appreciate the trope of the goose from the above-
quoted verse. Geese are attributed with the extraordinary ability to extract only
the milk from a milk-water suspension. Real poetry for the Bhāgavata is bhakti,
and the bhakta is a mānasa haṁsa: he can extract what is valuable from ordinary
poetry—the form and the rasa aesthetics—but disregard the unworthy.
This could be a formalization of what is implicit in the Mukundamālā. The
later Sanskrit Vaiṣṇava poetry is in effect an execution of the agenda of the
Bhāgavata. The goose is there to remain the symbol of this agenda for the
following generations of Vaiṣṇava poets, most noteworthy in the case of
Vedānta Deśika. Bronner and Shulman have remarkably analyzed the pas-
sage in Vedānta Deśika’s Haṁsasandeśa in which, “In the absence of a noble
 Mukundamālā of Kulaśekhara Āḻvār 213

songbird, these bird-brained peacocks never shut up.” (Bronner and Shulman,
2009: xxv-xxvi) Before the coming of the goose and the departure of the cloud,
poetry was no more than “chattering idiocies that deafen the ear.” Now that the
cloud, Kālidāsa as an ellipsis for worldly poetry and beauty without the Lord,
is history, the noble songbird/the true poet can come in: the goose. For Bron-
ner and Shulman the goose symbolizes the regional, southern poet, and the
Haṁsasandeśa certainly supports such a reading. But the goose, the satkavi, is
above all the bhakta. If we relate the Bhāgavata passage with the Haṁsasandeśa,
Vedānta Deśika’s undertaking looks like a realization of the Bhāgavata ideal:
the goose finds no joy in frequenting the pilgrimage sites of crows (vāyasam
tīrtham), the bad poets. What the author(s) of the Bhāgavata might have had in
mind were Kālidāsa’s places from the Meghadūta, sites of worldly enjoyment.
Vedānta Deśika replaces these sites significantly with southern sites, but most
importantly with the Śrivaiṣṇava Divya Deśams. But like a true mānasa haṁsa,
he is able to extract all that is worthy from such “chattering idiocies,” which
in the end turns to be a whole lot. The Bhāgavata gives a nominal concession to
imperfect language in praise of Viṣṇu, but in practice strives for poetic beauty
and endorses rasa, rejecting its common setting as filthy. Finally, Vaiṣṇava poet-
ry becomes kāvya par excellence. The goose first wants simply to dive among
the lotus stalks of Kṛṣṇa’s name. He then is to discern the good from the beau-
tiful, but not quite reject the beautiful. In the end, he recites beautiful poetry
with no reservation—a full harmony of the good and the beautiful.
This translation is made according to the edition printed in the Śrīvaiṣṇava
stotra collection Stotramālā (see Bibliography), with minor silent proofreading
that concerns sandhi and obvious typos.

Translation
I bow my head in veneration of the King Kulaśekhara, in whose town the
residents were summoned to a pilgrimage to Raṅgakṣetra every day.

1. Oh Mukunda, make me one who will daily address you as the husband of
Śrī, the giver of boons, the merciful, the one who is fond of his devotees, who
is expert in putting an end to worldly existence, the Lord, who reposes on the
snake-bed and who is the resting-place of the world.
2. Glory, glory to the Lord, the dear son of Devakī! Glory, glory to Kṛṣṇa, the
ornament of the Vṛṣṇi dynasty. Glory, glory to the Lord, whose tender body
is dark like a cloud! Glory, glory to Mukunda, who removes the burden of the
Earth.
214 Journal of Vaishnava Studies

3. Oh Mukunda, bowing down to you with my head, I implore your honor for
only this much: birth after birth may I have your grace to never forget your
lotus feet.
4. Oh Hari, it is not for overcoming duality that I venerate your two lotus feet,
nor for avoiding the Kumbhīpāka hell, onerous though it may be. Dallying
with charming, lovely, slender and delicate beauties in the heavenly garden
is not what I want either. Let me, rather, cherish you in the temple of my
heart in whatever state I may be.
5. My Lord, I care neither for dharma, nor for mounding wealth, least of all
for indulging in sensuality. Whatever must be, so be it, Lord, as it accords
with prior deeds. My truly cherished desire is this: birth after birth, may I
have unfaltering devotion to your two lotus feet.
6. Oh killer of Naraka, I can live in heaven or earth, or even in hell, however
your desire may be, but even in death I will think of your feet, their beauty
excelling that of the autumn lotus.
7. Oh Kṛṣṇa, let the royal goose of my mind enter the cavity of your lotus
feet this very day, for when my life-breath leaves me and I am choking with
phlegm, air and bile, how will I possibly remember you?10
8. Incessantly I think of Hari, whose lotus-like face bears a slight, gentle smile,
who is greater than the greatest, the darling of the cowherd Nanda, and who
is venerated by Nārada and hosts of other sages.
9. Plunging myself in the refreshing pond of Hari—his hands and feet its
lotuses, his bright eyes its fish, rippling with the waves of his arms—and
drinking of its invigorating water, I, exhausted by the desert of life, cast away
all weariness at once.
10. My heart! Do not stop delighting in the killer of Mura, whose eyes are like
lotuses and who wields a conch. I know not of other, greater joy, nothing like
the nectar of remembering Hari’s feet.
11. Dread not, you dullard, pondering over and over the torments of the
realms of death. Our master is Śrīdhara, so our enemies that are sins are
powerless against us. Shaking off your sloth, meditate on Nārāyaṇa, who
can be easily attained by devotion. He does away with the vices of the whole
world: would he not indulge his own servant?
12. May this unique boat of Viṣṇu be the rescue for men who are lost in the
ocean of life, tossed about by the winds of duality, tormented by the burden
of protecting sons, daughters and wives, and shipwrecked sinking in the
turbulent water of sensual pleasures.
13. My heart, do not despair, thinking, “How will I possibly cross over the
 Mukundamālā of Kulaśekhara Āḻvār 215

deep, impassable ocean of life?” Surely your singular devotion fixed on the
lotus-eyed Lord, the killer of Naraka, will come to your rescue and carry you
across.
14. Oh Lord of the three worlds and giver of boons, give us the boat of devotion
to your lotus feet, as we are sinking in this vast ocean of saṁsāra, in waters
of thirst and succession of waves of delusion raised by the winds of passion,
whirlpools of wives and flocks of sharks that are children and relatives.
15. May I not look even for an instant at those who’ve lost their piety because
they have no devotion to your feet! May I not listen to other collections of
narratives, [though] their form is pleasant to the ear, leaving aside tales of
your deeds. Lord of the world, may I not remember those who deny you even
in their thoughts! May I never be without an opportunity to worship you in
this or any future life!
16. Tongue, praise Keśava! Mind, worship Murāri! Hands, attend to Śrīdhara!
Ears, listen to the stories of Acyuta! Behold Kṛṣṇa, eyes! Feet, go to the abode
of Hari! Nose, smell the tulasī leaves offered to the feet of Mukunda! Head,
bow down to Adhokṣaja.
17. Listen, people, about this cure for the disease of birth and death, prescribed
by Yājñavalkya and other sages skilled in yoga: drink of this nectar that is
known as Kṛṣṇa, unique and of immeasurable inner light, a cure-all which
produces final quietude.
18. Listen, ye mortals, you who have well and truly immersed yourself in this
ocean of worldly life, thick with waves of calamity, as I will tell you in short
about the highest good. Leaving aside all other teachings, just set in your
heart that mantra, oṁ namo nārāyaṇāya, with a bowed head.
19. Your might is superior, surpassing all limits, and when it is manifest, the
earth is but a speck of dust, the oceans no more that drops of water, fire is a
trifling, minute spark, the wind is a soft sigh and the sky is a barely discernible
hole. Rudra, Brahmā and all the other gods are no more than petty insects.
20. Oh lotus-eyed Lord, please always sustain our lives as we evermore relish
the nectar of your two lotus feet, with joined palms, head bowed in respect,
hair standing on end all over our bodies, our throats filled with sobs as we
recite and our eyes pouring out tears.
21. Oh cowherd boy, ocean of mercy, lord of the daughter of the ocean
[Lakṣmī], killer of Kaṁsa, full of compassion to Gajendra! Oh Mādhava,
Lakṣmaṇa [Rāma’s younger brother], teacher of the three worlds, lotus-eyed
Lord, master of the gopīs! Please protect me, I know of no one but you.
22. May he bestow felicity upon us, he who is the crown gem of the gods,
216 Journal of Vaishnava Studies

the crest jewel of the cowherds, Garuḍa’s amulet for the snakes that are
calamities for the devotees, the amulet that protects the three worlds, the
jewel-cloud for the cātaka birds that are the eyes of the gopīs, the gem that
is the measure of all beauty, the one jewel that ornaments the pair of firm
breasts of Rukmiṇī’s, who is herself the jewel among his beloved.
23. My tongue, chant incessantly this mantra of Śrī Kṛṣṇa, a mantra that
makes life worthwhile. It is a mantra that wards off enemies, it is complete
and it is venerated by the dictums of the Upaniṣads. It carries one over
worldly existence, and it provides a way out of the thick of darkness. It is the
single mantra that grants all lordly power, the mantra that rescues from the
snake bites of vice.
24. Dear heart, drink of the divine medicine of Śrī Kṛṣṇa, a cure for the activity
of the minds of the sages. It is the cure against the torments by mighty
demons, and it is the single invigorating panacea in the three worlds. There is
no end to the good that it does to devotees, and there is no other cure for the
disease that is existential fear. It is conducive to the attainment of felicity.11
25. Without remembering his two lotus feet, recitation of sacred texts is but
a cry in the wilderness, and the daily performance of Vedic vows is good only
for fat loss. All the meritorious work is an oblation to ashes, and ablutions in
holy places are no better than an elephant’s bath. Glory to Lord Nārāyaṇa!
26. Are there such, sinners though they may be, who’ve not gotten what they
want by uttering the venerable name of Nārāyaṇa? Alas, we have not been
doing it in our previous lives, and so we have to stay in wombs and undergo
similar suffering.
27. Oh enemy of Madhu and Kaiṭabha, this is the fruit of my life and the only
favor that I ask of you: think of me, lord of the universe, as a servant of a
servant of a servant of a servant of an attendant of a servant of your servant.
28. How dumb, poor bastards are we striving to serve a man, a lowlife, stingy
lord of a few villages, when we could serve Lord Nārāyaṇa in the heart—our
master, the supreme Lord and the sole ruler of the three words, who is ready
to give us his own domain!
29. God of love, seek no place in my heart, for it is the abode of Mukunda’s
lotus feet! You have already been laid low by Śiva’s flaming eye. Have you no
recollection of the might of Murāri’s disc?
30. Tongue, I am begging you with folded hands: recite the names that
describe Nārāyaṇa. They relate a reality which is higher than the highest,
and they are the reward of the pious, seeming to drip honey.
31. This body of changing beauty is sure to fail when it wears down and its
 Mukundamālā of Kulaśekhara Āḻvār 217

joints can hold no more. Why do you, then, torment it with medicines, you
dull blockhead? Drink instead the elixir of Kṛṣṇa, which gives perfect health.
32. The noble daughter of the Ocean [Lakṣmī] is your wife, Viriñca [Brahmā]
is your son and the Vedas are your panegyrist. The hosts of gods are your
retinue and liberation is your grace. The whole world is but your illusion and
Devakī is your mother. The son of Bala’s killer [Arjuna, the son of Indra] is
your friend. This much only do I know of you.
33. May Kṛṣṇa, the teacher of the three worlds, protect us! I bow constantly
to Kṛṣṇa!12 Kṛṣṇa destroyed the enemies of the immortals, and to Kṛṣṇa I pay
my homage. This whole world has arisen from Kṛṣṇa only, no one else, and I
am Kṛṣṇa’s servant. This whole world stands in Kṛṣṇa. Dear Kṛṣṇa, take care
of me.13
34. Therefore, my Lord Viṣṇu, be kind to me, as I’ve no one else to protect
me, and have mercy upon me, as everyone knows that you are the most
compassionate. Oh endless Hari, please lift me up, wretched and sunken in
the ocean of life that I am, as you are the supreme person!
35. I bow down to Nārāyaṇa’s lotus feet and constantly attend to Nārāyaṇa. I
chant Nārāyaṇa’s pure name and I remember that changeless reality which
is Nārāyaṇa.
36-37. Though able, no one addresses the Lord, saying Śrīnātha [O master
of Śrī], Nārāyaṇa, Vāsudeva, Kṛṣṇa, Bhaktapriya [beloved of the devotees],
Cakrapāni [wielder of the disk], Acyuta [imperishable Lord], Padmanābha
[with a lotus navel], Kaiṭabhāri [killer of Kaiṭabha], Rāma, Padmākṣa [having
lotus eyes], Hari, Murāri [killer of Mura], Ananta [unlimited Lord], Vaikuṇṭha,
Mukunda [giver of liberation], Kṛṣṇa, Govinda, Dāmodara, Mādhava! Alas,
men are so absorbed in vice.
38. Those who meditate on the unlimited and imperishable Viṣṇu, who is
always in the lotus of the heart and who grants permanent fearlessness to
those who are intent on him, reach the highest perfection belonging to the
Vaiṣṇavas.
39. I pay my homage to Mādhava, the enemy of Madhu, who is reclining on the
couch that is the body of the serpent [Ananta] and whose form is charming
with drops sprayed by the waves of the milk ocean that look like stars.
40. This literary work has been written by the king Kulaśekhara, a bee at the
lotus feet of the lotus-eyed Lord. His two dear friends were the lotus stems of
the twice-born, the most eminent of the community of poets and well-versed
in the Vedas.
218 Journal of Vaishnava Studies

Endnotes
I am most thankful to Whitney Cox from the University of Chicago, who improved
both the translation and the introduction in many ways and gave numerous fruitful
suggestions. I am also very thankful to Thibaut D’Hubert, also from the University of
Chicago, who commented on a previous incarnation of this translation.
1. A. C. Bhaktivedānta Swami was very fond of verse 7 in this edition, and he began
a translation of a different recension of the Mukundamālā, one with 53 verses and
considerably different from the “Southern recension,” a translation which was completed
by his disciples (see Bibliography).
2. For a lengthy discussion about Kulaśekhara’s birthplace and capital, see B.V.
Ramanujam, History of Vaishnavism in South India upto Ramanuja. Annamalainagar, 1973:
Anamallai University, Chapter VI.
3. About the Prapannāmṛtam, see B.V. Ramanujam, History of Vaishnavism in South India
upto Ramanuja. Ramanujam says that the Prapannāmṛtam, written probably in the 17th
century, closely follows the Maṇipravāḷam Guruparamparā Prabhāvam of Pinbaḻagiya
Perumāḷ Jīyar. The Prapannāmṛtam itself says that the account of Kulaśekhara is an
expansion of the story told in Garuḍavāhanapaṇḍita’s Divyasūricaritam, which is more a
mahākāvya than a hagiography. Verses from the Divyasūricaritam are quoted often and in
full in the Prapannāmṛtam. The story of Kulaśekhara forms chapters 85 to 87 of the book
and is told in 259 verses.
4. This is either a common noun, “the greatness of Śrīraṅgam,” or a name of a work.
One Raṅgamāhātmya forms a part of the Brahmāṇḍa Purāṇa.
5. vilokya netraiḥ kamanīyagātraṁ ko vā samartho hi nivartane syāt. 85.63.
6. In Śrīvaiṣṇava theology, Bhūdevī is an aspect of Viṣṇu’s consort Lakṣmī as the
superintendent of the material universe (līlāvibhūti), specifically the Earth. Āṇḍāḷ, the
daughter of Viṣṇucitta Āḻvār who was also married to Raṅganātha, is also presented as
an incarnation of Bhūdevī.
7. Or so say the hagiographies. Rāmānuja supposedly had to flee Śrīraṅgam for
Melkote from a Chola king (differently identified as Kulottuṅga Chola I or II, both
problematic). For the Muslim raids on Śrīraṅgam, see Steven Paul Hopkins, Singing the
body of God: The Hymns of Vedāntadeśika in Their South Indian Tradition. Oxford & New York,
2002: Oxford University Press, p.68-9.
8. The inscription is recorded by Hultzsch in Vol. 7 of Epigraphia Indica, No. 27, pp.197-
98 (see Bibliography).
9. na yad vacaś citra-padaṁ harer yaśo jagat-pavitraṁ pragṛṇīta karhicit |
tad vāyasaṁ tīrtham uśanti mānasā na yatra haṁsā niramanty uśik-kṣayāḥ ||
tad-vāg-visargo janatāgha-viplavo yasmin prati-ślokam abaddhavaty api |
nāmāny anantasya yaśo’ṅkitāni yac chṛṇvanti gāyanti gṛṇanti sādhavaḥ || 1.5.10-11 ||
10. There is a beautiful pun in this verse. The mānasa-rāja-haṁsa, the royal goose of
the mind, is the migratory goose that leaves India in April, passes through the haṁsa-
dvāra or the “Goose gate” (likely the Niti Pass in the Himalayas, from India to Tibet) to
 Mukundamālā of Kulaśekhara Āḻvār 219

spend the summer at the Mānasasarovara and return to India in October. The goose is
identified with the mind because of its discriminatory ability: the mind ought to discern
truth and beauty from that which is unworthy just as the goose is able to drink only the
milk from a milk-water suspension. The goose is also identified with the pure soul on
its journey back to the Lord at the time of death. Significantly, the goose feeds on lotus
fiber (bisa). Kālidāsa’s royal goose in the Meghadūta accompanies the cloud northward,
thirsting for the Mānasa lake, and carries provender of bisa on the flight. The journey
to Mānasa is arduous and requires a lot of strength. The image painted by the poet is
beautiful: let my mind feed at your lotus feet and fly to Mānasa right away, in my prime,
without waiting for the rainy season, lest I be too feeble to complete the journey when
death comes.
11. In verses 22-24, the poet compares Kṛṣṇa and his name with maṇi, mantra and
auṣadha, gems/amulets, incantations and herbs of different types and for different
purposes. Significantly, all three are standard examples of things that possess
inconceivable powers, powers that are not empirically knowable but have to be
accepted, for otherwise the effects that the things produce could not be explained. The
Bhāgavata (10.1.4) similarly compares the narrations about the qualities of the Lord to be
the medicine against bhava, worldly existence.
12. The use of the future in namasyāmi suggests the underlying influence of Tamil
on the author’s thinking: the future in Tamil (and in other Dravidian languages) has a
so-called “usitative” sense implying habitual or repeated action, i.e., “I bow constantly to
Kṛṣṇa.” I am thankful to Whitney Cox for this observation.
13. The point of this verse is to illustrate all the nominal cases in which “kṛṣṇa” is
inflected, in proper order: nominative: kṛṣṇaḥ; accusative: kṛṣṇam; instrumental: kṛṣṇena;
dative: kṛṣṇāya; ablative: kṛṣṇāt; genitive: kṛṣṇasya; locative: kṛṣṇe; vocative: he kṛṣṇa.

Bibliography
Bhāgavata Purāna, with the commentary of Śrīdhara. Edited by J.L. Shastri. Delhi,
1983: Motilal Banarsidass.
Bronner, Yigal, and David Shulman. “Self-surrender,” “Peace,” “Compassion” &
“The Mission of the Goose.” Poems and Prayers from South India by Appayya
Dīkṣita, Nīlakaṇṭha Dīkṣita & Vedānta Deśika. New York, 2009: New York
University Press.
Govindacharya, Alkondavilli. The Holy Lives of the Azhvars or the Dravida Saints.
Bombay, 1982: Anantacharya Indological Research Institute.
Epigraphia Indica, Vol. VII (1902-1903). New Delhi, 1981: Archeological Survey of
India.
Hopkins, Steven Paul. Singing the body of God: The Hymns of Vedāntadeśika in Their
South Indian Tradition. New York, 2002: Oxford University Press.
220 Journal of Vaishnava Studies

Menon, K.P.A. Nine Gems of Sanskrit Literature. Vol. III. Delhi, 1996: Nag Publishers.
Nayar, Nancy Ann. Poetry as Theology. The Śrīvaiṣṇava Stotra in the Age of Rāmānuja.
Wiesbaden, 1992: Otto Harrassowitz.
Prabhupāda, A.C. Bhaktivedānta Swami, And His Disciples. Mukunda-mālā-stotra:
The Prayers of King Kulaśekhara. Los Angeles, 1992: Bhaktivedanta Book
Trust.
Prapannāmṛtam of Anantācārya, ed. Svāmī Rāmanārāyaṇācarya. Benares, saṁvat
2023 (ad 1966): Somani Trust.
Ramanujam, B.V. History of Vaishnavism in South India upto Ramanuja. Annam-
alainagar, 1973: Anamallai University.
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 About the Authors

Jon Paul Sydnor teaches world religions at Emmanuel College and is theo-
logian-in-residence at Grace Community Boston. His academic interests are in
South Asian religions, Christian theology, and interreligious thought.

Greg Jay was born and raised in Sydney, Australia. He has spent many years
living and working in India since the 1970s. In the early 80s he was general man-
ager of the Vaiṣṇava Literature Conservation Project conducted by the Institute
for Vaiṣṇava Studies on a PL480 grant. His main field of study, practice and teach-
ing is Hindu ritualism, specifically Pañcarātra Āgamas, which he learned with
traditional scholars. He is currently pursuing his M.A. in Vaiṣṇavism from Madras
University after completing a B.A. in Vaiṣṇavism there. He resides at his homes in
Śrīraṅgam, Tamiḻ Nadu, India and Maui, Hawaii, U.S.A.

Thomas A. Forsthoefel is professor Religious Studies at Mercyhurst Univer-

sity. He has written or edited four books: Knowing Beyond Knowledge, a study of the
cognitive dimension of religious experience in Hindu non-dualism which; Gurus in
America, an edited volume that considers the social and philosophical negotiations
in late twentieth century development of Hindu spiritual leadership in America;
Soulsong: Seeking Holiness, Coming Home, a cross-cultural exploration of holiness and
human flourishing, and The Dalai Lama: Essential Writings, an edited volume, with
substantive introduction, of the philosophical, ethical, and meditation teachings
of the Dalai Lama.

Charlotte Radler is Associate Professor of Theological Studies at Loyola Mary-

mount University, Los Angeles. Her area of expertise is the history of Christianity.
Her research interests include mysticism in general, especially the mysticism of
Meister Eckhart, women mystics, as well as the relationship between action and

309
310 Journal of Vaishnava Studies

contemplation. She has published widely on the mysticism of Meister Eckhart

and she is currently working on a book on the role of love in Meister Eckhart's
thought.

 Tracy Sayuki Tiemeier is Associate Professor of Theological Studies at Loyo-

la Marymount University (Los Angeles, USA). She teaches and researches in
comparative theology, Hindu-Christian dialogue, Asian/Asian American theol-
ogy, and women and religion. Her current work examines female virtue in the
Cilappatikāram and compares it to Catholic understandings of women’s embodi-
ment. She also co-chairs the Los Angeles Hindu-Catholic Dialogue.

Ilanit Loewy Shacham is a PhD candidate at the department of South Asian

Languages and Civilizations and a Doctoral Fellow at the Franke Institute for
Humanities at the University of Chicago. She holds an MA in Religious Studies
from Tel-Aviv University. She is writing her dissertation on Kṛṣṇadevarāya’s
Telugu poem, the Āmuktamālyada. She is interested in pre-modern South Indian
literature, especially second-millennium poetry in Sanskrit and in Telugu.

Archana Venkatesan is Associate Professor of Comparative Literature and

Religious Studies at the University of California, Davis. She is the author of The
Secret Garland: Translations of Āṇṭāḷ’s Tiruppāvai and Nācciyār Tirumoḻi (Oxford Uni-
versity Press, 2010) and the forthcoming A Hundred Measures of Time: Nammāḻvār’s
Tiruviruttam (Penguin Classics, April 2014)

Sushumna Kannan is currently Adjunct Faculty at the Dept. of Women’s

Studies, San Diego State University. She has an MA in English (Literary and Cul-
tural Studies, 2003) from CIEFL (now, English and Foreign Languages University),
Hyderabad, India. Her PhD in Cultural Studies is from Centre for the Study of Cul-
ture and Society (CSCS), Bangalore, India. Her dissertation on the medieval saint
Akka Mahadevi is titled: “Akka Mahadevi, a Saint, Rebel and Poet?: A Study in
‘Tradition’ and its Feminist Understandings” (2011). Her research interests include
Colonialism, Feminism and the Indian Intellectual Traditions. For details of writ-
ings, visit: sushumnakannan.weebly.com.

Suganya Anandakichenin is a “professeur agrégé” who teaches English

Language and Literature at the French Embassy School in Delhi. She is finishing
her PhD on Kulacēkara Āḻvār and his Perumāḷ Tirumoḻi at Hamburg University,
and she is about to join the NETamil project, for which she will be cataloguing
 About the Authors 311

the Vaiṣṇava manuscripts that belong to the EFEO collection, studying the ways
through which they were transmitted. She will also try to work towards creating
a critical edition of the early antādis (composed by the Āḻvārs) and producing a
philological translation of parts of the Nālāyira Tivviya Pirapantam.

Aleksandar Uskokov holds a BA and an MA in philosophy from the Sts Cyril

and Methodius University of Skopje, and an MA in South Asian Languages and
Civilizations from the University of Chicago, where he is currently pursuing a PhD
on Vedantic hermeneutics.

Vasudha Narayanan is Distinguished Professor, Department of Religion, at

the University of Florida and a past president of the American Academy of Reli-
gion (2001-2002). She is also the director of the Center for the study of Hindu
Tradtions (CHiTra) at the University of Florida and the author or editor of several
books including The Vernacular Veda (1994), Hinduism (2004), and The Life of Hindu-
ism (2007). She is also the author of numerous articles and encyclopedia entries.

Patricia Y. Mumme is an adjunct professor of World Religions at Ohio Univer-

sity, Lancaster and Zanesville. She received her Ph.D. in Religious Studies in 1983
from the University of Pennsylvania and has taught at several colleges and uni-
versities in Ohio and published several articles on the Srivaisnava tradition. Her
thesis has been reprinted recently in India as The Srivaisnava Theological Dispute:
Manavalamamuni & Vedanta Desika; it is available in the U.S. through South Asia
Books.

Lynn Ate received her PhD in Wisconsin in 1978 focusing on Tamil Language
and Literature. After retiring from a twenty-five year career as a senior public
administrator for the State of Alaska, she now conducts independent research as
an Adjunct Faculty affiliated with the Washington State University Asia Program
in Pullman, Washington. She recently published Yaśodā’s Songs to Her Playful Son,
Kṛṣṇa: Periyāḻvār’s 9th century Tamil Tirumoḻi (Woodland Hills: SASA Books, 2011) and
is currently translating Tirumankai Āḻvār’s complete works.

Bharati Jagannathan teaches history at Miranda House, Delhi University. She

earned her doctorate from Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi, in 2010. Her
monograph, Approaching the Divine: The Integration of Ālvār Bhakti in Śrīvaiṣṇavism,
is forthcoming from Primus Books, Delhi. She also writes short fiction and poetry
and has authored several children’s books