Preferred Citation: Narayana Rao, Velcheru, and David Shulman, translators, editors, and with an introductionby. Classical Telugu Poetry: An Anthology. Berkeley, Calif: University of California Press, c2002 2002.http://ark.cdlib.org/ark:/13030/kt096nc4c5/

Annamayya

― 147 ―

10. Annamayya

1424–1503

According to the hagiographical account written by his grandson, Cinnanna (Tiruvengalanāthudu), this singerof padams to Lord Venkateśvara was born in Tāllapāka in CittŪr District. As a young boy, he was alreadyintoxicated with the god and made his way to his temple at Tirupati—a massive cultic complex spread overthe Venkatam hills, today the outstanding pilgrimage site in South India. Although legend also connectsAnnamayya (also Annamâcārya) with the royal palace at Pěnugônda and the Vijayanagara king SāluvaNarasimha—whom the poet is said to have refused to praise in song—the poet must have lived most of hislife in Tirupati. Tradition says he composed a poem each day for the god, producing a corpus of some32,000 sung padams. Roughly half this number survive, engraved on copperplates during the lifetime ofAnnamayya's son and kept in the temple. Annamayya founded a family of poets who flourished in Tirupatifor several generations and who created an entire literature centered on the Tirupati cult.

Annamayya's padams are addressed to the god, the Lord of the Hill, whom he imagines in a seeminglyinexhaustible series of modes and moods, each moment unique and irreplaceable. The poems have beendivided (after Annamayya's death) into the two categories of śrngāra, "erotic," and adhyātma,"metaphysical." We might rephrase this slightly artificial distinction to include poems in which the poet singsto Venkateśvara, out of his own knowledge of the god's love life and feelings, about this god, and those inwhich the poet sings about himself and about his relationship with and understanding of the god. In the firstmode, the poet usually adopts the voice and persona of Venkateśvara's wife, Padmāvati, or of one of hisfemale lovers.

In contrast to the kāvya tradition in the high courtly style, Annamayya's diction is largely non-Sanskritized and idiomatic, reflecting spoken rhythms.

― 148 ―(There are, however, some padams composed entirely in Sanskrit.) The poems are made to be sung as wellas danced, as the musical component is central to their purpose. They have a standard form: anintroductory line (pallavi) that serves as a refrain, syntactically completing each of the following threecaranam stanzas. This format allows the theme, introduced initially, to deepen and exfoliate through each ofthe succeeding stanzas, often in unpredictable ways. In the "erotic" type, the poem ends with either a hintor an explicit statement of sexual fulfillment. Poems of this type reveal an exquisite sensitivity to thedifferent states of loving, with particular empathy for the woman's feelings. The adhyātma poems embody acomplementary playfulness as the poet explores all possible ways of reaching toward the god and of workingupon the deity's emotions. This is a poetry that freely moves through intense subjectivity, strong sensualbodily feeling, and complex philosophical ideas: no boundary exists between physical experience, intellectualapprehension, and ordinary common sense. Although the poems may appear to be simple, they often carrya tone of extreme subtlety and sophistication born of introspection, erudition, and direct experience of thegod.

SONGS FOR THE LORD OF THE HILLS

I

[1] Annamayya, Annamâcāryula kīrtanalu, ed. Ponna Lilavatamma (Madras: Balasarasvati BookDeport, 1968), 61 [kadal udipi].

You say you want to bathewhen the waves subside

Where is there an endto the endless mind?You say, "Let me quench my thirst,and then I'll find the truth."You cannot quench your thirstHow can you know truth?Is there an end?All the days you have a body,longing does not cease.You keep wanting things.How can you find joy?

― 149 ―Is there an end?You say, "Tell me what lies ahead,and I'll forget what was before."You cannot know what lies ahead.How can you forget what was before?Is there an end?That goodness that comes of knowingwhere to reach God—you won't find iteven in dreams.Is there an end?

II

[2] Ibid., 30 [nānāti batuku].

Life, day after day, is a gameTo find what you cannot seeis truth.Coming is real. Going is real.What you do in between is a game.Right in front of youlies the world.At the very endis truth.We eat food. We wear clothes.It's all part of this passing game.The past clings to our bodies.Cross the doorway:there is truth.Badness never ends,and there's never enough good.In the end, time is a game.High on the mountain, God is king.Higher than heavenis truth.

― 150 ―

III

[3] Ibid., 92 [uru leni polimera].

Why cross the boundarywhen there is no village?It's like living without a name,like words without love.What use is ecstasy

without the agony of distance?What good is shade without the sun?What is patience without fury?Why make anything—love or poetry—if two can't be one?Why cross the boundary?What good is goodness if you can't see it?Why be tender if you have no friend?What use is love if you can't let go?Beauty is empty without passion.Why cross the boundary?Why have a lover you don't need to hide?You can't come close without a little doubt.What joy is there in love fulfilled,no extras, no questions?Bring in our Lord of the Hill.Why cross the boundary?

IV

[4] Ibid., 99 [eda sujñānamu].

Where is my wisdom??Time is lost, an offeringpoured in the dust.I think I need this thing, or maybe that thing.I never get beyond such hopes.I keep on waiting, and time lures melike a deer behind a bush,an offering poured in the dust.

― 151 ―There's always this plan, or maybe that one,and my problems will be over.I go through trick after trick,trapped in thoughts and hurt.Time melts like butter next to fire,an offering poured in the dust.I'm sure I'll be happy here, or maybe over there,so I keep moving from place to place.I don't even see the god right next to me.Time goes, like empty talk,an offering poured in the dust.

V

[5] Annamayya, śrngāra-sankīrtanalu, vol. 32, ed. P. T. Jangannatha Ravu (Tirupati: TirumalaTirupati Devasthnam, 1964), [copperplate 1617, 109], 78.

When I'm done being angry,then I'll make love.Right now, you should be gladI'm listening.When you flash that big smile,I smile back. It doesn't mean I'm not angry.You keep looking at me,so I look, too. It isn't rightto ignore the boss.Right now you should be glad.You say something, and I answer.That doesn't make it a conversation.You call me to bed, I don't make a fuss.

But unless I want it myself,it doesn't count as love.Right now you should be glad.You hug me, I hug you back:you can see I'm still burning.I can't help it, Lord of the Hill,if I'm engulfed in your passion.Right now you should be glad.

― 152 ―

VI

[6] Annamayya, Adhyātma-sankīrtanalu, vol. 2, ed. Gauripeddi Ramasubbasarma (Tirupati:Tirumala Tirupati Devasthanam, 1981) [copperplate 173, 360], 242.

You have to solve the riddle you've posed.Can I unravel it alone?A bubble is born in a second from the waterand, for a while,looks like a million.Is it real or contingent?Tell me what it means.You have to solve the riddle.A breeze blows through the sky,sweeps through the world.Then it merges into nowhere.Is it illusion, or is it truth?Tell me what it means.You have to solve the riddle.Plants shoot up from the soiland become grain for the farmer.Then they die back into the earth.Do they exist, or do they not?Tell me what it means.You have to solve the riddle.

VII

[7] Annamayya, Adhyātma-sankīrtanalu, vol. 8, ed, Rallapalli Anantakrishnasarma and UdayagiriSrinivasacaryulu (Tirupati: Tirumala Tirupati Devasthanam, 1952), [copperplate 220, 111], 75.

When you're done with one,another will be waiting.Life is a play of shadows on the screen.If you're not poor, you're stuck with riches.You'll never have time to think of God.There's always a zillion things to do.Life whips you, like a bonded slave,this play of shadows on the screen.

― 153 ―If you say no to the bad, you are bound by the good.You'll never have time to think of God.Life seeps in, like water under the carpet.If you won't work for wages, it'll take work for nothing,this play of shadows on the screen.You're tired all day, and at night sleep takes over.You'll never have time to think of God.When the Lord of the Hill stands before you,

you won't believe it. Life is nothing but show,this play of shadows on the screen.

VIII

[8] Adhyātma-sankīrtanalu, vol. 2 [copperplate 145, 204], 137.

All connectionsare with god.If you know this,you won't get stuck.The moment you look, you get attached.If you start talking, you make it worse.If you smile, you're deeper in it.Turn away, you won't be caught.All connections are with god.If you open your ears, the whole world grabs you.Live in the world, and you're trapped.The more you live, the more you are bound.Turn away, say nothing, you won't be caught.All connections are with god.You want to help, you want to give:you only tighten your chains.If you want to be master,you are totally lost.Set your mind on godalone, andnothing binds you.All connections are with god.

― 154 ―

IX

[9] Adhyātma-sankīrtanalu, vol. 3 (Tirupati: Tirumala Tirupati Devasthanam, 1998), [copperplate208, 48], 32–33.

Imagine that I wasn't here. What would you do with your kindness?You get a good name because of me.I'm number one among idiots. A huge mountain of ego.Rich in weakness, in giving in to my senses.You're lucky you found me. Try not to lose me.Imagine that I wasn't here.I'm the Emperor of Confusion, of life and death.Listed in the book of bad karma.I wallow in births, womb after womb.Even if you try, could you find one like me?Imagine that I wasn't here.Think it over. By saving someone so low,you win praise all over the world.You get merit from me, and I get lifeout of you. We're right for each other,Lord of the Hill.Imagine that I wasn't here.

X

[10] śrngāra-sankīrtanalu, vol. 18, ed. P. T. Jangannatha Ravu (Tirupati: Tirumala TirupatiDevasthanam, 1964) [copperplate 430, 179), 103.

I may never know you,but you are my lord.

Come home. No more games.I really can't stop wanting you,so I get angry and turn to sarcasm.Over and over, I dream of making love.It doesn't happen. I get upset.Come home.Irritated that I can't see you,I find fault with everything.I want you to want me on your own.

― 155 ―I charge at shadows.I'm so tired.Come home.No one can hold your love.Embracing you, I am proud.You've taken me to the limitof loving, Lord of the Hills.I'll take you in.Come home.

Annamayya

Preferred Citation: Narayana Rao, Velcheru, and David Shulman, translators, editors, and with an introductionby. Classical Telugu Poetry: An Anthology. Berkeley, Calif: University of California Press, c2002 2002.http://ark.cdlib.org/ark:/13030/kt096nc4c5/