Tiruppavai Pasuram 15

 

Tiruppāvai — Pāśuram 15

எல்லே இளங்கிளியே இன்னும் உறங்குதியோ

சில் என்று அழையேன் மின் நங்கைமீர் போதருகின்றேன்

ellē iḷangkiḷiyē innum urangudiyō

cil endru azhaiyēnmin nangaimīr pōdaruginrēn

In this pāśuram, Āṇḍāḷ arrives with her sakhis and her parrot at the house of a sakhi who is still asleep. The morning is quiet, and the call that goes out is meant simply to wake her.

But the sakhi inside is disturbed. What reaches her ears feels sharp, almost harsh. She reacts immediately, questioning the tone of the call. Why speak so strongly? Why break the stillness this way?

At that moment, Āṇḍāḷ steps in.

She does not defend the call. She does not argue about intention. Instead, she softens the moment at once. She asks that there be no harshness in speech. And then she makes a statement that stands at the heart of this pāśuram:

“You are capable ones. Let the responsibility be mine.”

This is not a casual apology. It is a deliberate acceptance of responsibility. Āṇḍāḷ chooses to own the disturbance, even if it was not meant, even if it arose in the act of devotion itself. Her leadership shows itself not in correcting others, but in taking the burden upon herself.

This moment finds a natural echo in the Rāmāyaṇa, in the figure of Bharata.

Āṇḍāḷ and Bharata: Two Forms of Responsibility

Bharata did not send Rāma to the forest. Yet when he learns of the injustice, he refuses to distance himself from it. He takes the weight of the act upon himself—for his family, for the kingdom, and for dharma. His response is one of self-effacement and sacrifice.

Āṇḍāḷ’s responsibility arises differently. Hers is chosen, not imposed. She accepts accountability out of love and devotion, not obligation. She does not step back; she steps forward.

Together, they show two complementary ways of bearing responsibility: one rooted in dharma,the other rooted in bhakti.

The pāśuram then moves forward. The sleeping sakhi is urged to rise quickly. What else is holding her back? Everyone else has already arrived. Let her come out and see for herself.

The call turns into praise.

They are asked to sing of the Lord who removes obstacles, who destroys opposition, who enchants the heart—and who once brought down a mighty elephant.

The Elephant: Kuvalayāpīḍa

The “strong elephant” remembered here is Kuvalayāpīḍa, placed by Kamsa to block Krishna’s path. The elephant stood as a living barrier, meant to terrify and destroy.

Krishna met it without haste. He evaded its charge, endured its force, and finally overcame it completely, turning an obstacle into a sign of divine strength.

In this pāśuram, the memory of that act reassures the devotees:

no obstruction—whether external or within—can stand before the Lord who protects those who turn to him.

Pāśuram 15 brings together three quiet strengths:

sensitivity to speech,

responsibility accepted without argument,

and trust in divine protection.

It shows us that devotion is not only about calling out—it is also about listening, adjusting, and taking responsibility when our call unsettles another.

Āṇḍāḷ Thiruvadigalai Śaraṇam