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Bhaktachintamani Prakaran 66

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Hasmukh Patadia

Gujarati narration
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He himself came to Gadhada, and the sadhus went to Gujarat.

Hari performs boundless divine plays, whose account cannot be fully told.

Shesh, Mahesh, and Sharada cannot reach the limit of Hari's deeds; even Brahma cannot find its end, and the Vedas say only 'neti neti' (not this, not this).

His divine play is boundless, his power boundless, his supreme deeds are boundless.

His radiance and majesty are exceedingly boundless, and his pure fame is boundless.

His compassion is boundless, his grace boundless, his mercy boundless within his heart.

His patience and depth are exceedingly great, never to be fathomed in any age.

His greatness is boundless, his generosity is boundless, he is a boundless and magnanimous giver.

His skill is boundless, his renown boundless, and his virtues too are boundless.

How can a poet with a single tongue tell of his boundless play?

Even one who scoops from a great treasure with cupped hands grows tired before giving it all.

One whose very contemplation tires the mind, whose thinking wearies the heart entirely, whose description wearies speech itself — who then can fully tell of him?

Just as birds fly in the sky, each rising higher than the other, striving to reach further, yet none touches the heavens — so poets by the millions speak, each by their own power of intellect, but still say only 'boundless, boundless' and stop, for who can fathom the unfathomable?

That Hari, taking human form, performs countless divine plays; to tell them all in full detail is beyond my capacity.

I tell only a fraction of a fraction, the beautiful deeds of Shyam, which even the cleverest of men cannot fully grasp — these belong to the devotees of Hari.

One whose heart holds only rhythm and clever wordplay, out of poetic vanity, may speak faultily even of Hari's virtues.

If in every word there is not remembrance of Hari, the wise say that such poetry is like a crow's pilgrimage (meaningless).

Therefore, setting aside cleverness, I tell the divine play of the Beloved One; let everyone gather and listen, as I now tell again of Vartal.

The Beloved came to Vartal, and the devotees came to know of it.

Men and women set out just as rivers flow to meet the ocean.

Young and old, seated in vehicles, came for darshan.

Hearing that the Lord had arrived, no one remained at home.

All the sadhus were summoned, and the assembly of sadhus came.

Seeing Nath, their hearts rejoiced, and they bowed repeatedly at his feet.

All the satsangis gathered, men and women, pure and numerous.

The men could not be counted, and groups of young women also gathered.

Having had darshan of Hari, they touched his feet with love. 'Welcome, you of great fortune, today's words cannot be repaid,' they said.

He made everyone happy, giving them the gift of darshan. 'We are yours and you are ours,' spoke Bhagwan.

Thus, talking, the night passed, a night filled with color.

In the morning, with a face full of joy, Hari spoke smiling. 'Today is a day of festival, listen all you wise sadhus.

Arrange color for playing,' said the abode of happiness.

What the people had wished for, the Beloved spoke that very word.

The devotees rose in haste to please the Lord.

Then fine colors were prepared, and much gulal was called for.

Syringes of many kinds, made with peacock designs, were readied.

Vessels and pots were filled with color, and large jars too were filled.

Maharaj sat on the upper balcony, and the people watched, waiting.

Then Mohan threw a handful of gulal from the balcony.

Then the companions made ready, and permission was given for play to begin.

Then he took five or ten near himself, from among the wise sadhus.

Nath, the life-giver, threw much color upon the people.

Syringes shot in all four directions, and it seemed as though a rain-cloud had gathered.

Eyes could not be kept open, so strong flowed the stream.

Trays full of saffron color were poured out repeatedly.

The people cried 'victory, victory,' and much abir and gulal rose into the air.

A great crowd of gulal gathered, and a reddish glow spread.

The gods came to watch as Hari and Hari's devotees played.

As they played, the color ran out; then the Lord devised a trick.

Clapping and chanting, he called for more color to be brought in abundance.

Then Nath, with his hands, made the devotees drenched.

He celebrated Hutashani (Holi) well, and himself became pleased.

Then they went to bathe, and having bathed Nath returned.

Singing and talking through the village, he came along with his companions.

Then a row of seats was arranged for the sadhus to eat.

He himself came to serve, the King being greatly pleased.

That day the charming one performed extraordinary divine acts.

The next day he went to the edge of town.

There stood a beautiful, lovely mango tree, where a swing was tied with affection.

The Beloved One came there with all his companions.

Hari sat upon the swing, and countless people came there.

Beyond counting were those who came to see, so many men and women gathered.

He gave the sadhus permission: 'Perform worship with love.'

Saffron, sandalwood, garlands of flowers, incense, lamps, and arti in due manner.

The fine sadhus took the materials and performed worship of the Supreme Bliss.

They anointed his feet with sandalwood, and the sadhus, bowing, pressed his feet to their chests.

Having given great joy, the Immortal One then stood up.

All the devotees, taking garlands, stood near Hari.

Some placed garlands around his neck, some tied them on his arms.

Some tied them at his feet, and thus they blossomed among the flowers.

Garlands were hung on the swing, some placed on the mango branch.

Some were tied to poles, which the compassionate one made into a yoke-carry.

He performed such infinite divine plays, for the devotees to meditate upon.

Having given such abundant happiness, Bhagwan then set out.

Such divine play Hari performed on the seventh day of the dark half of Fagan, truly, performing it at Vartal — this I have told briefly.

Thus, in the Bhaktachintamani composed by Nishkulanand Muni, disciple of Shri Sahajanand Swami, propagator of the glorious Ekantik Dharma, in the account of Shri Hari — the chapter on 'the festival held at Vartal' — the sixty-sixth chapter.

Shree Swaminarayan Temple, Bhuj-Kutch / Vadtal Gadi, AI-translated, unverified · Source details