Tiruppavai pasuram 25

Tiruppāvai – Pāsuram 25

Krishna Revealed: From Hidden Birth to Sought Refuge

Opening Context: How We Have Come Here

From Pāsuram 17 onwards, Āṇḍāḷ has been steadily drawing us closer to Krishna—not physically alone, but relationally and spiritually.

The Sakhis (Companions) are gathered.

Doors have been opened, one by one.

Elders have been awakened.

Krishna has been asked to open His eyes.

He has been requested to rise, emerge, and take His royal seat.

In Pāsuram 24, every great deed across His incarnations was praised—Vāmana, Rāma, the child of Gokula, the lifter of Govardhana.

At this moment, Krishna is seated.

He is no longer hidden.

He is no longer silent.

Now Āṇḍāḷ answers the unspoken question:

“Why have you come?”

The Pāsuram (First Two Lines)

Tamil Text

ஒருத்தி மகனாய் பிறந்து ஓரிரவில்

ஒருத்தி மகனாய் ஒளித்து வளர

Transliteration

Oruththi maganāy piRandhu ōr iravil

Oruththi maganāy oLiththu vaḷara

Meaning and Reflection

This is one of the most compressed yet profound revelations of Krishna in Tiruppāvai.

The word “Oruththi” is not casual.

It is reverential.

It means “That One Woman”.

The first Oruththi is Devakī —

the one chosen to give birth to the Lord of all worlds,

in a single, incomparable night.

The second Oruththi is Yaśodā —

the one blessed to raise Him,

to see His smile, His mischief, His fear, His courage, His compassion.

In one night, Krishna belongs to Devakī.

For all nights thereafter, Krishna belongs to Yaśodā.

Here, Āṇḍāḷ reminds Krishna—and us—

that He accepted limitation, secrecy, danger, and separation

not out of necessity, but out of love.

The Threat That Could Not Touch Him

Tamil Text

தரிக்கிலான் ஆகித் தான்தீங்க நினைந்த

கருத்தைப் பிழைப்பித்து கஞ்சன் வயிற்றில்

Transliteration

Tharikkilān āgi thān thīngu ninaindha

Karuththaip piḻaippiththu kañjan vayiṟṟil

Meaning and Reflection

Kaṁsa could not endure Krishna’s existence.

“Tharikkilān” — he could not bear it.

Every plan Kaṁsa formed dissolved before it became action. Not because Krishna fought back, but because Krishna’s very being undid evil intent.

Āṇḍāḷ uses a powerful inner image:

“Fire in Kaṁsa’s belly.”

This is not a physical fire.

It is the fire of fear, envy, and helplessness.

Krishna did not need to strike Kaṁsa yet.

Kaṁsa was already burning.

Even the forest fire of Munjivana,

even demons like Bakasura,

are folded into this truth:

👉 Fire cannot harm the One who is the source of all fire.

Krishna Named Directly

Tamil Text

நெருப்பென்ன நின்ற நெடுமாலே!

Transliteration

Neruppenna nindra neḍumālē!

Meaning and Reflection

Āṇḍāḷ now speaks directly.

“O Neḍumāle!”

The tall One.

The immeasurable One.

The One who stands—unmoved—

while others burn within themselves.

This is Krishna as refuge,

not Krishna as child, hero, or king alone.

The True Request

Tamil Text

உன்னை அருத்தித்து வந்தோம் பறை தருதி ஆகில்

திருத்தக்க செல்வமும் சேவகமும் யாம் பாடி

Transliteration

Unnai aruththiththu vandhōm parai tharuthi āgil

Thiruththakka selvamum sēvagamum yām pāḍi

Meaning and Reflection

Now the truth is spoken.

“Unnai aruththiththu vandhōm.”

We have come seeking You.

The parai is mentioned,

but it is no longer the focus.

What do they truly want?

Thiruththakka Selvam

→ the wealth worthy of You

→ a life aligned with Your presence

Sēvagam

→ service

→ relationship

→ belonging

This is not bargaining.

This is belonging reclaimed.

Completion and Peace

Tamil Text

வருத்தம் தீர்ந்து மகிழ்ந்து ஏலோர் எம்பாவாய்

Transliteration

Varuththam thīrndhu magizhndhu ēlōr empāvāy

Meaning and Reflection

This is not excitement.

It is relief.

Sorrow ends

not because problems vanish,

but because Krishna is now acknowledged as sufficient.

This is where description ends.

From here onward, Tiruppāvai will move into asking, receiving, and resting.

Why Pāsuram 25 Is a True Turning Point

Pāsuram 25 closes the narrative arc of Krishna’s revelation.

From hidden birth

to public enthronement

to personal surrender

Āṇḍāḷ ensures that nothing about Krishna remains unspoken: His birth, danger, compassion, power, patience, and accessibility.

Only after this completeness

can the Sakhis (Companions) move to specific requests in Pāsurams 26 and 27

—without needing to justify, explain, or recall anything again.

Krishna is now fully present.

Everything that follows is relationship.

ANDAL THIRUVADIGALAI SHARANAM

We take refuge at the sacred feet of Andal

Tiruppavai pasuram 24

 

Tiruppāvai – Pāsuram 24

When the Lord Is Seated and the Devotee Begins to Bless

Where This Pāsuram Stands

From Pāsuram 16 onwards, Andal has been steadily bringing us closer.

She enters Nandagopa’s house.

She awakens the elders.

She wakes Krishna.

She stands before Him.

In Pāsuram 23, she asks Him to rise like a majestic lion and take His seat.

Pāsuram 24 begins after Krishna has already ascended the throne.

This is the first moment in Tiruppāvai where Krishna is fully present, fully attentive, and fully available.

Andal does not rush to ask.

She blesses Him.

The Pāsuram Opens

Tamil

அன்று இவ்வுலகம் அளந்தாய் அடிபோற்றி

சென்றங்குத் தென்னிலங்கை செற்றாய் திறல்போற்றி

Transliteration

anru ivv ulagam aḷanthāy aḍi pōtri

ceṉṟaṅguth thennilangai ceṟṟāy tiṟal pōtri

Explanation

“O Lord, we praise the divine feet that once measured the worlds.

We praise the valour that destroyed southern Lanka.”

Andal begins far away in time.

She recalls Vāmana, who spanned the universe with His feet — not to display power, but to restore balance.

She then recalls Rāma, who crossed oceans, marched into Lanka, and destroyed Rāvaṇa — not for conquest, but for justice.

These are not random memories.

By invoking Vāmana and Rāma first, Andal reminds us that the One seated before her in Gokula is not merely a local cowherd, but the same Lord who has repeatedly intervened in history when the world itself needed protection.

Moving Closer: Krishna of Gokula

Tamil

கொன்றடச்சகடம் உதைத்தாய் புகழ்போற்றி

கன்று குணிலா எறிந்தாய் கழல்போற்றி

Transliteration

koṉṟaḍac sakaḍam utaitāy pugazh pōtri

kaṉṟu kuṇilā eṟintāy kazhal pōtri

Explanation

“We praise Your glory for destroying Śakaṭāsura.

We praise Your ankleted feet for flinging away the calf-demon.”

Now Andal comes closer — into Krishna’s childhood.

She remembers:

Śakaṭāsura, the cart-demon crushed by a baby’s kick,

Vatsāsura (and by extension Dhenukāsura), destroyed effortlessly while Krishna was still among the calves.

And yet, she does not praise the violence.

She praises:

His fame (pugazh),

His feet (kazhal).

This is love speaking, not awe.

This is the voice that worries for the child even while celebrating the victory.

The Peak of Compassion

Tamil

குன்றுகுடையாய் எடுத்தாய் குணம்போற்றி

Transliteration

kuṉṟu kuḍaiyāy eduthāy guṇam pōtri

Explanation

“We praise Your quality of lifting Govardhana as an umbrella.”

Here Andal recalls Govardhana, where Krishna did not act against an enemy, but stood between danger and the helpless.

This is not a story of destruction.

It is a story of shelter.

By placing Govardhana here, Andal shows us that all the earlier acts — measuring worlds, crossing oceans, slaying demons — ultimately culminate in this single quality:

the instinct to protect those who have no protection.

Only Now Does the Request Appear

Tamil

என்று என்றுன் சேவகமே ஏத்திப் பறைகொள்வான்

இன்று யாம் வந்தோம் இரங்கேலோர் எம்பாவாய்

Transliteration

eṉṟu eṉṟu un cēvakamē ētti paṟai koḷvāṉ

iṉṟu yām vantōm iraṅgēlōr empāvāy

Explanation

“Praising You again and again as Your servants alone, we receive the parai.

Today, we have come — please show mercy.”

This is the turning point.

Andal does not say:

“Because You did all this, give us what we want.”

She says:

“Because we belong to You, we stand before You.”

The parai is not a reward.

It is the natural consequence of belonging.

And the word indru — today — is deliberate.

After all the preparation, after all the waiting, after all the praise and blessing, today is the day grace flows.

Why Pāsuram 24 Is So Critical

In this pāsuram, Andal does something rare and profound.

She protects the Lord with her words before asking anything from Him.

She blesses:

His feet (Vāmana),

His valour (Rāma),

His fame (Śakaṭāsura),

His anklets (Vatsāsura / Dhenukāsura),

His compassion (Govardhana).

Only then does she speak of herself.

This is not strategy.

This is love at its most mature.

From here onwards, the tone of Tiruppāvai changes. The distance has collapsed. The asking will become direct. The intimacy will deepen.

But it is Pāsuram 24 that makes that intimacy possible — because it establishes a relationship not based on need, but on belonging.

The Lord is seated. The devotee has spoken. The rest wil

l now unfold naturally.

Āṇḍāḷ Tiruvadigaḷai Śaraṇam

We take refuge at the sacred feet of Andal.

Tiruppavai pasuram 23

 Tiruppāvai – Pāsuram 23

When the Lord Rises to Receive

The Flow Until Now

From Pasuram 20 onwards, Andal’s movement becomes increasingly intimate and deliberate.

In Pasuram 20, she reminds Krishna of His cosmic responsibility — the One who stands in front even for the devas, shielding them from fear.

In Pasuram 21, she shows that His grace overflows without effort, like milk pouring unasked from unmilked cows.

In Pasuram 22, she and her companions finally stand before Him, shedding all pride, asking not for gifts or words, but for His merciful glance, knowing that even a measured look can dissolve lifetimes of burden.

Up to this point, Andal has:

Approached Him with humility

Awakened Him gently

Allowed Him to open His eyes

Stood silently, receiving His presence

Now, in Pasuram 23, a decisive shift occurs.

For the first time, Andal does not merely wait or request attention.

She addresses Krishna directly, not as one who must be coaxed awake, but as one who is now fully ready to respond.

This pasuram marks the moment when repose gives way to responsibility, and presence gives way to action.

Tamil Text

மாரி மலைமுழஞ்சில் மன்னிக் கிடந்துறங்கும்

சீரிய சிங்கம் அறிவுற்றுத் தீவிழித்து

Transliteration

Māri malai muḻañjil manni kiḍandhu uṟangum

Sīriya siṅgam aṟivu uṟuttu tīviḻittu

Explanation

Āṇḍāḷ now introduces one of the most powerful allegories in the Tiruppāvai — the lion.

She asks us to imagine a lion lying deep within a mountain cave during the rainy season, stretched out in complete stillness. This stillness is not helplessness, nor neglect. It is contained majesty — power at rest because nothing yet has demanded its full manifestation.

When awareness dawns — aṟivu uṟuttu — the lion opens its eyes, not in confusion, but in clarity. The awakening is sovereign, not startled.

So too, the Lord’s repose has never been indifference. It is fullness.

Now that the moment has ripened, He is ready to rise.

மயிர் பொங்க எப்பாடும் பேர்ந்துதறி

மூரி நிமிர்ந்து முழங்கப் புறப்பட்டு

Vēri mayir poṅga eppāḍum pēyndu thaṟi

Mūri nimirndhu muḻangap puṟappaṭṭu

The lion’s mane bristles. Its body stretches fully. A roar emerges — not out of anger, but as a declaration of presence.

This roar does not threaten devotees; it reassures the world.

It announces that protection has awakened.

Āṇḍāḷ is careful to show that this emergence is not hurried. It is perfectly timed. Strength and beauty move together. Readiness takes visible form.

போதருமா போலே நீ பூவைப்பூ வண்ணா!

உன் கோயில் நின்று இங்ஙனே போந்தருளி

Pōtharumā pōlē nī pūvaippū vaṇṇā!

Un kōyil ninru iṅṅanē pōndaruli

Now Andal’s address becomes direct.

“O Lord of flower-like hue,” she says,

“come forth — just like that lion.”

Notice what she asks.

Not merely to look.

Not merely to speak.

But to emerge from where You are.

This is the first time in the Tiruppāvai that Krishna is invited to move from inner repose into public, responsive presence. The temple, the inner chamber, the resting place have all served their purpose. The hour of response has arrived.

Yet even here, intimacy is preserved. Majesty does not cancel tenderness. The lion is also beautiful.

கோப்புடைய சீரிய சிங்காசனத்திருந்து

யாம் வந்த காரியம் ஆராய்ந்து அருளேலோர் எம்பாவாய்

Kōppudaiya sīriya siṅgāsanaththirundu

Yām vanda kāriyam ārāyndu aruḷēlōr empāvāy

Here lies the turning point.

The lion does not wander after emerging. It goes straight to where it belongs.

So too, Krishna is asked to sit upon the throne that suits Him — not as ornament, but as responsibility assumed.

From that seat alone can He inquire — ārāyndu — a word that implies deliberate attention with the intent to grant.

By this request, Andal and her companions have completed their approach.

They are no longer asking to be noticed.

They are presenting their purpose before One who is now fully ready to respond.

This is why Pasuram 23 is pivotal.

Everything before this led towards awakening.

Everything after this flows from acceptance.

From here onward, the Tiruppāvai will move into praise — not pleading praise, but confident praise — because the Lord has risen, taken His seat, and turned His attention toward them.

The lion has emerged.

The throne is occupied.

The moment of response has arrived.

Āṇḍāḷ Thiruvadigaḷai Śaraṇam

We take refuge at the sacred feet of Andal

Tiruppavai pasuram 22

 

Tiruppāvai – Pāśuram 22

When a Single Glance Is Enough

அங்கண்மா ஞாலத்து அரசர் அபிமான

பங்கமாய் வந்து நின் பள்ளிக்கட்டிற் கீழே

சங்கமிருப்பார் போல் வந்து தலைப்பெய்தோம்

கிங்கிணிவாய்ச் செய்த தாமரைப்பூப் போலே

aṅkaṇmā ñālattu arasar abhimāna

paṅkamāy vantu nin paḷḷikkaṭṭiṟ kīḻē

saṅkam iruppār pōl vantu talaippeytōm

kiṅkiṇivāy ceyta tāmarai pūp pōlē

Āṇḍāḷ begins this pāśuram by placing a striking image before us.

She speaks of kings — rulers of the wide and beautiful world — who once stood tall in pride, yet arrive shedding that pride completely. They come not as conquerors, but as supplicants, standing beneath the very bed of the Lord.

Andal says: we have come like that too.

Not with entitlement.

Not with confidence.

But with heads bowed, as those who know they have no claim.

Their approach is quiet, almost hesitant — like a lotus just beginning to open, its petals still trembling. The image is deliberate. This is not a demand. It is a plea shaped by humility.

செங்கண்சிறுச் சிறிதே எம்மேல் விழியாவோ

திங்களும் ஆதித்தியனும் எழுந்தார் போல்

அங்கணிரண்டும் கொண்டு எங்கள் மேல் நோக்குதியேல்

எங்கள் மேல் சாபம் இழிந்தேலோரெம்பாவாய்

ceṅkaṇ ciṟu ciṟitē emmēl viḻiyāvō

tiṅgaḷum ādittiyanum ezhundār pōl

aṅkaṇ iraṇḍum koṇḍu eṅgaḷ mēl nōkkudiyēl

eṅgaḷ mēl śāpam iḻindēlōr empāvāy

Now comes the heart of the pāśuram.

Āṇḍāḷ does not ask Krishna to rise, speak, or act.

She asks only for his glance.

“Will your reddish eyes not fall upon us — just a little, just gradually?”

Why gradually?

Because divine grace is overwhelming. Andal knows that too sudden a flood can shatter fragile hearts. What she seeks is not spectacle, but mercy measured to human endurance.

She compares his eyes to the rising of the moon and the sun — not for brilliance alone, but for balance.

The sun burns away what cannot remain.

The moon cools what needs healing.

When both eyes fall together, she says, something extraordinary happens:

the śāpam — the accumulated weight of error, fear, and bondage — simply dissolves.

No argument.

No penance.

No justification.

Only the glance.

Why Pāśuram 22 Matters

This pāśuram marks a deep inward turn.

Until now, there has been movement — walking, calling, awakening, assembling. Here, everything becomes still. Nothing more is done. Nothing more is offered.

The companions (sakhis / companions) stand exactly where they are — powerless, emptied of pride, emptied even of effort.

They no longer ask what Krishna should give.

They ask only to be seen.

Āṇḍāḷ teaches something subtle and enduring here:

that surrender is not dramatic. It is quiet.

That grace does not always arrive with thunder — sometimes it arrives as a softened gaze.

And that when pride collapses fully, even a single glance is enough to transform a life.

This is not desperation.

This is trust at its most refined.

Āṇḍāḷ Thiruvadigalai Sharanam

We take refuge at the sacred feet of Andal.

Tiruppavai pasuram 20

 

Tiruppāvai – Pāśuram 20

When the World Stands Behind Him

முப்பத்து மூவர் அமரர்க்கு முன்சென்று

கப்பம் தவிர்க்கும் கலியே! துயிலெழாய்!

muppattu mūvar amararkku mun sendru

kappam tavirkum kaliyē! tuyilezhāy!

Āṇḍāḷ now speaks of Krishna in a way that opens the frame far wider than Gokula.

The phrase “முப்பத்து மூவர் அமரர்” refers to the principal categories of divine forces that uphold cosmic order. It is not meant as a narrow count, but as a way of pointing to the entire structure of the world that depends on protection.

Krishna is described as one who “முன்சென்று” — one who moves ahead of them, not in rank, but in position. He places himself in front, so that fear (கப்பம்) does not reach those who stand behind him.

This is the meaning of “கப்பம் தவிர்க்கும்” — fear is averted because he absorbs it first.

And so Āṇḍāḷ calls him “கலியே” — the one who subdued Kāliya — not merely recalling a past event, but naming a constant quality: the Lord who steps forward before danger takes shape.

செப்பமுடையாய் திறலுடையாய் செற்றார்க்கு

வெப்பம் கொடுக்கும் விமலா! துயிலெழாய்!

seppam uḍaiyāy tiṟal uḍaiyāy seṭṟārkku

veppam koḍukkum vimalā! tuyilezhāy!

Āṇḍāḷ now balances two aspects of Krishna.

To those who seek him rightly, he possesses seppam — measured speech, assurance, grace.

To those who threaten order, he possesses tiṟal — strength that becomes veppam, a burning force that stops harm.

Yet he is called “விமலா” — the spotless one. Even his severity is pure. Protection and correction arise from the same clarity.

This is the one the companions (sakhis — companions who walk together in the vow) have come to awaken.

செப்பன்ன மென்முலைச் செவ்வாய் சிறுமருங்குல்

நப்பின்னை நங்காய்! திருவே! துயிலெழாய்!

seppanna menmulai sevvāy siṟumaruṅgul

nappinnai naṅgāy! tiruvē! tuyilezhāy!

Now the address turns to Nappinnai.

There is no explanation here, only invocation. Her presence is already understood. She is addressed with affection and dignity — auspicious, composed, luminous.

The companions do not bypass her. They do not hurry past what is proper. The request must pass through the one who makes approach gentle and rightly timed.

உக்கமும் தட்டொளியும் தந்துன் மணாளனை

இப்போதே எம்மை நீராட்டலோரெம்பாவாய்!

ukkamum taṭṭoḷiyum tantuṉ maṇāḷanai

ippōdē emmai nīrāṭṭalōr empāvāy!

The request is now spoken plainly.

Let Krishna come — not in display, but with fan and lamp, signs of service and readiness. Let the vow be completed. Let the companions be received.

Āṇḍāḷ insists on “இப்போதே” — now — because nothing remains undone. Discipline has been learned, unity formed, restraint practiced, responsibility accepted.

This is not haste.

It is preparedness.

Why Pāśuram 20 Matters

This pāśuram corrects a subtle misunderstanding.

Krishna is not approached because he is intimate.

He is approached because he is dependable.

The same one who stands in front of the cosmic order, shielding it from fear, will not turn away those who have come in the right way, at the right time, with the right spirit.

From here onward, Tiruppāvai moves from preparation to response.

Āṇḍāḷ Thiruvadigalai Shar

anam

We take refuge at the sacred feet of Andal.

Tiruppavai pasuram 19

 

Tiruppāvai Pāśuram 19 – Kuthu Vilakkeriya

குத்துவிளக்கு எரியக் கோட்டுக்கால் கட்டில்மேல்

மெத்தென்ற பஞ்ச சயனத்தின்மேல் ஏறி

Kuttu viḷakku eriyak kōṭṭukkāl kaṭṭil mēl

mettenra pañca sayanattin mēl ēri

By the time Andal reaches this pāśuram, everything outside has already been completed.

The companions (sakhis) have been gathered.

The elders of the household have been addressed.

The gates have opened.

The household has been awakened.

What remains now is not effort, but response.

Andal brings everyone into the innermost space, not to disturb it, but to show that the time for waiting has ended.

The opening lines tell us where Krishna is.

A lamp is burning steadily.

A firm cot with well-made legs stands unmoving.

Upon it lies a soft, layered bed.

This tells us something important.

It is not night.

There is no disorder.

There is no neglect.

Everything is complete and settled.

Only then does Andal take us to the heart of the scene:

கொத்தலர் பூங்குழல் நப்பினை கொங்கை மேல்

வைத்துக்கிடந்த மலர்மார்பாவாய் திறவாய்

Kottalar pūṅkuḻal nappinnai koṅgai mēl

vaittukiḍanda malar mārpāvāy tiṟavāy

Krishna rests with his flower-like chest leaning against Nappinnai.

He is present, at rest, and fully aware.

That is why Andal does not say “wake up” or “come out.”

She uses only one word:

tiṟavāy — open.

Open the response.

Open the moment that is already ready.

Andal then turns gently toward Nappinnai:

மைத்திட்டத்தங்கண்ணினாய்

Mai ttiṭṭa taṅkaṇṇināy

O one with dark-lined eyes.

These eyes matter.

They are the eyes through which Krishna looks outward.

They are the eyes through which his response can reach others.

Andal acknowledges a truth, without accusation:

நீ உன் மணாளனை

எத்தனைப் போதும் துயிலெழாஅ ஓட்டாய்க்காண்

Nī uṉ maṇāḷanai

ettanai pōdum tuyil eḻā oṭṭāykkāṇ

You never allow your beloved to be disturbed, at any time.

This is not blame.

It is recognition of closeness.

Then comes the most direct line of the pāśuram:

எத்தனையெலும் பிரிவற்கில்லாயால்

தத்துவம் அன்று தகவு

Ettanaiyelum pirivatrkillāyāl

tattuvam anru takavu

If even a moment of separation is impossible,

then withholding grace cannot be right.

This is the heart of Pāśuram 19.

The companions are not asking for separation.

They are not asking for disturbance.

They are asking for space — space for grace to move outward.

That is why the pāśuram ends quietly:

ஏலோர் எம்பாவாய்

Ēlōr empāvāy

Come — for our Pāvai vow.

Pāśuram 19 teaches that there comes a point in devotion when effort must stop.

When louder calls are no longer right.

When what is needed is not insistence, but permission.

Krishna is not compelled.

He is not disturbed.

He is allowed to respond.

From here onward, the journey turns inward.

The knocking has ended.

The waiting has reached its depth.

What follows will no longer b

e about entry,

but about what Krishna chooses to give.

Andal Thiruvadigalai Sharanam

Tiruppavai Pasuram 18

 Tiruppāvai — Pāśuram 18

உந்து மதக் களிற்றன் ஓடாத தோள் வலியன்

நந்தகோபாலன் மருமகளே நப்பின்னாய்

Undu mada kaḷiṟṟan ōdāda tōḷ valiyan

Nandagōpālan marumagaḷē Nappinnāy

By this pāśuram, the long journey has reached a turning point.

From the first day of the nonbu, Āṇḍāḷ has been gathering the sakhis, shaping them gently — asking them to rise early, to speak carefully, to take responsibility, to walk together, and to let go of small hesitations. Through fifteen days, the sakhis were prepared — not Āṇḍāḷ herself, but those who walk with her.

In Pāśuram 16, they stood at the threshold of Nandagōpan’s house, the place where Krishna lives.

In Pāśuram 17, they were allowed inside, and the household was awakened — Nandagōpan, Yaśōdā, Krishna, and Baladeva.

Now, in Pāśuram 18, Āṇḍāḷ stands even closer to her goal — yet she does not move directly toward Krishna.

There is a right way to approach him.

Why Nappinnai?

Nāppinnai is first and foremost Krishna’s consort — the one who shares his presence, his space, and his daily life in Gokula. In the Sri Vaishnava understanding, she is Nīlā Devī herself, just as Āṇḍāḷ is Bhū Devī. Not a representative, not an intermediary in a formal sense, but a divine presence who belongs inseparably to Krishna.

That is why this approach passes through her.

Krishna may be strength, protection, and power. Nāppinnai is where that power becomes accessible through grace.

How Āṇḍāḷ speaks

The pāśuram begins by praising Krishna — his strength likened to a mighty elephant that never retreats. This is not a random description. By recalling who Krishna is, Āṇḍāḷ gently prepares the space before speaking to Nāppinnai.

Then she addresses Nāppinnai directly — not with urgency, not with command, but with familiarity and warmth.

The world itself has already awakened:

Roosters are calling everywhere

Cuckoos are singing on flowering vines

Morning has arrived fully

Everything outside is alive and moving.

Only the door remains closed.

Āṇḍāḷ does not ask Nāppinnai to persuade Krishna.

She does not speak of requests or arguments.

She asks something simpler and deeper:

Open the door.

Come joyfully.

Let us sing his name.

The sound of Nāppinnai’s bangles — mentioned so lovingly — is not decoration. It is a sign of acceptance. When those bangles resound, the way forward opens naturally.

What this moment truly is

This pāśuram stands at a point of quiet balance.

Āṇḍāḷ is not acting for herself alone. She stands with the sakhis she has gathered, guided, and carried forward. The request is for darśana, for presence, for the completion of the vow — not for individual fulfillment, but for all who have walked this path together.

Nāppinnai stands here because grace must come before closeness. Compassion must come before fulfillment.

A gentle shift begins

Pāśuram 18 marks the beginning of a new movement.

The preparation is complete.

The household has awakened.

Now the inner journey begins — carefully, steadily, through grace.

From here onward, the pāśurams will no longer ask whether the door will open — they will show what unfolds once it does.

Āṇḍāḷ has brought everyone this far.

What comes next flows from here.

Āṇḍāḷ Thiruvadigalai Śaraṇam