235 మొల్లలేలె నాకు తన్నె ముడుచుకొమ్మనవె
mollalEle nAku tanne muDuchukommanave
తెలుగులో చదవడానికి ఇక్కడ నొక్కండి.
Introduction
Speaking through the voice of a tribal woman,
he strips away the ornamental illusions that often veil true bhakti.
Silks, scents, garlands — none of these matter to
her.
Her longing is simple and unwavering:
“Let You — and You alone — be my ornament.”
In an age where relationships have grown
transactional,
she seeks not mere divine favour,
but a bond so intimate, so complete,
that even the shadow of separation disappears.
This is not a display of devotion —
but an offering of total, truthful surrender.
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Romantic Poem |
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రేకు: 59-6 సంపుటము: 6-108 తాళ్లపాక వేంకటశేషాచార్యుల
వ్రాతప్రతిలోను ఈ కీర్తన కనబడుతుంది |
Copper
Leaf: 103-5 Volume:
2-17 |
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మొల్లలేలె నాకు
తన్నె ముడుచుకొమ్మనవె నేఁ
జెల్ల పూవు కొప్పుతావి
చెంచుదానను ॥పల్లవి॥ పట్టుచీరేఁటికి
నాకు పారిటాకులె చాలు
దట్టిగట్టుకొమ్మనవే
తనమొలనే
పట్టెమంచ మేలె
నాకు పవ్వళించు మనవె నేఁ
జెట్టుకిందఁ
బొరలాడే చెంచుదానను ॥మొల్ల॥ సందిదండ లేలె
నాకు సంకుఁగడియమె చాలు
యిందవే యెవ్వతెకైన
నిమ్మనవె
గందమేలె నాకు
చక్కని తనకే కాక నేఁ
జిందువందు చెమట
మై చెంచుదానను॥మొల్ల॥
కుచ్చుముత్యా
లేలె నాకు గురివిందలె చాలు
కుచ్చి తనమెడఁ
గట్టి కొమ్మనవె
కచ్చుపెట్టి
కూడె వేంకటగిరీంద్రుఁడు నను
చిచ్చినే నడవిలో చెంచుదాననూ ॥మొల్ల॥
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mollalEle nAku tanne muDuchukommanave nE
jella pUvu kopputAvi cheMchudAnanu ॥pallavi॥ paTTuchIrETiki nAku pAriTAkule chAlu
daTTigaTTukommanavE tanamolanE
paTTemaMcha mEle nAku pavvaLiMchu manave nE
jeTTukiMda boralADE cheMchudAnanu ॥molla॥ saMdidaMDa lEle nAku saMkugaDiyame chAlu
yiMdavE yevvatekaina nimmanave
gaMdamEle nAku chakkani tanakE kAka nE
jiMduvaMdu chemaTa mai cheMchudAnanu ॥molla॥ kuchchumutyA lEle nAku guriviMdale chAlu
kuchchi tanameDa gaTTi kommanave
kachchupeTTi kUDe vEMkaTagirIMdruDu nanu
chichchinE naDavilO cheMchudAnanU ॥molla॥
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Chorus (Pallavi):
|
Phrase |
Meaning in English |
|
మొల్లలు |
Jasmine
flowers |
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జెల్ల పూవు |
One kind
of fish |
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చెంచుదానను |
I am
brought up in the wild. I am fickle. |
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మొల్లలేలె నాకు తన్నె ముడుచుకొమ్మనవె |
I don’t
need these jasmines. If at all, let him arrange in my braid |
|
నేఁ జెల్ల పూవు కొప్పుతావి చెంచుదానను |
My hair
and head smells fish. I am brought up in the wild. I am fickle minded. |
Literal Meaning:
Literal Meaning:
"Why
jasmine garlands for me?
If anything, let the Lord Himself tie them into my braid.
My hair carries the smell of fish —
for I am but a fisherwoman, untouchable and coarse."
Implied Meaning:
"My
life is raw, unvarnished — soaked in the scent of what I am.
No flower, no fragrance, no ritual can hide it.
This body, this mind — they carry the weight of my origin.
So don’t offer me tokens of beauty.
Bring the truth. Bring YOU.
Let the Lord Himself become my ornament.
Only then will my impurity dissolve —
not by perfume, but by grace."
Commentary:
Request
readers to refer to the picture below showing a quote by Franz Kafka. “Centuries
later, Franz Kafka echoed a similar inner realization…What Annamacharya
expressed in 15th Century.
Annamacharya
rejects the jasmine garlands.
They may be fragrant and beautiful —
but he clearly says, “They are not meant for me.”
“There
is the smell of fish in my braid,” he says.
“I cannot hide it. I cannot replace it with perfume.
This is my scent. This is my life.”
And
then he declares, without hesitation:
“Don’t give me flowers — let You be my ornament.
Franz Kafka’s haunting words become an echo:
"When I realised life was a costume party,
and I had come wearing my real face —
I felt ashamed of myself."
But
unlike shame that hides,
Annamacharya owns it. He reveals it.
Before God, he does not cover himself —
he simply lays his being bare.
This
is not devotion in form —
it is the offering of the self.
Not a song sung with lips —
but a prayer that bows with the soul.
First Stanza:
|
పదబంధం |
అర్థం (Telugu) |
Meaning
(English) |
|
పట్టుచీరేఁటికి నాకు |
పట్టుచీర నాకెందుకే |
Why Silk clothes for me |
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పారిటాకులె చాలు |
పండుటాకులు చాలు |
Ripened leaves are sufficient |
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దట్టిగట్టుకొమ్మనవే |
బలంగా కట్టుకొమ్మనవే |
Tell Him to tie it tightly (the clothes) |
|
తనమొలనే |
తనమొలనే |
He Himself on his waist |
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పట్టెమంచ మేలె నాకు |
పట్టెమంచ మేలె నాకు |
Why elaborately decorated bed for me |
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పవ్వళించు మనవె |
పవ్వళించ మనవె |
Let him lie down on it |
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జెట్టుకింద |
చెట్టుకింద |
Beneath the trees (in the wild) |
|
బొరలాడే |
దొర్లాడే |
Living in dust and filth |
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చెంచుదానను |
చేపలు అమ్మే దళిత స్త్రీ |
A fisherwoman / an untouchable woman |
Literal Meaning:
"Why silk clothes for me?
Ripened leaves are enough.
Let Him come and tie them
tightly
around His own waist.
Why
do I need an ornate wedding bed?
I
am used to sleep beneath the trees
Let Him lie down on ornate bed
for I am but a fisherwoman,
infested, coarse, and lowly."
Commentary:
Annamacharya,
the voice of a Dalit woman,
“Why
silk sarees? Why ornate beds?
I sleep beneath trees —
a woman of the earth, nameless and unadorned.
Ripened leaves are enough.
A simple life is enough.
I want no ornaments. I want You,” she says.
She
possesses no riches, no sanctified offerings —
only the raw, unfiltered truth of her life.
And she stands ready to place even that at His feet.
Her
devotion wears no costume of custom.
She doesn’t seek a temple — she seeks presence.
Purity, for her, is not of the body —
it lives in surrender.
so intimate, so absolute,
that she no longer remains.
There is only the relationship —
no self, no other, no doer.
In
such relationship alone,
can man uncover what he truly is.
Everything else is rehearsed piety —
a well-disguised self-interest.
Second Stanza:
|
పదబంధం |
అర్థం (Telugu) |
Meaning
(English) |
|
సందిదండ లేలె నాకు |
దండకడియములు, కేయూరములు
ఏలనే |
Why do I need ornaments for the upper part of the arms? |
|
సంకుఁగడియమె చాలు |
శంఖముతో చేసిన కడియము |
I am happy with a simple ring made out of shell. |
|
యిందవే
యెవ్వతెకైన నిమ్మనవె |
అదికూడా తీసి ఇస్తూ ఎవ్వరికైనా ఇవ్వమనవే అంటోంది |
She is now taking that ring out of her body and asking the
Lord to give it any one else |
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గందమేలె నాకు చక్కని తనకే కాక |
గంధములు సుగంధములె నాకేలనే |
I do not need this sandalwood (giving sweet and soothing
feeling) |
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నేఁ జిందువందు చెమట మై చెంచుదానను |
నేను చెమట కారుతూ కంపుగొట్టు
చెంచు దానను. ఇంతే. (ఇంకేమనా చెయ్యలో తెలియదు) |
I am here in my body with sweat emitting smell. I am this.
I don’t know what else to do with this body? |
Literal
Meaning:
I have no
need for jeweled armlets or fine bangles.
Even this humble conch-shell ring is enough —
you may give it to someone else.
Why
sandalwood for me?
Its fragrance is not meant for one like me.
My body is soaked in sweat —
I am a fisherwoman,
a body that smells, a life that labours.
This is who I am.
I don’t know what more to do with it.
Commentary:
This stanza
deepens the surrender seen in the pallavi.
There is no desire to be lifted into refinement,
only the longing to be accepted as one is.
By renouncing adornment, the devotee is not rejecting beauty —
she is separating truth from pretence.
Even her one
adornment —
a humble shell bangle —
is now offered away.
It is as if she’s saying:
"Let even this identity go.
If I must be seen by You,
see me as I am — not through fragrance, not through form."
Third Stanza:
|
పదబంధం |
అర్థం |
Meaning
(English) |
|
కుచ్చుముత్యా లేలె నాకు |
గ్రుచ్చిన ముత్యాల దండ లేలె నాకు |
Why do I need pearl studded necklace |
|
గురివిందలె చాలు |
గురివింద గింజలే చాలు |
I am happy with a simple Rosary peas |
|
కుచ్చి
తనమెడఁ గట్టి కొమ్మనవె |
క్రుచ్చిగూర్చి తనమెడకు గట్టిగా కొమ్మనవె |
Let him arrange and tie to his neck |
|
కచ్చుపెట్టి కూడె వేంకటగిరీంద్రుఁడు నను |
(కచ్చు = గర్వము; కచ్చుపెట్టి = గర్వము ప్రక్కనపెట్టి); గర్వము ప్రక్కనపెట్టి వేంకటగిరీంద్రుఁడు నను కూడె |
The Lord condescended on me |
|
చిచ్చినే నడవిలో చెంచుదాననూ |
(చిచ్చి =
జోల పాడునపుడు పీడాపరిహారార్థము చెప్పఁబడుమాట); నేను
చెంచుదాననైనూ ఈ అడవిలో నాకు జోలపాట పాడెను వేంకటగిరీంద్రుఁడు |
(చిచ్చి = A lullaby to ward of evil
forces) Lord sang me the lullaby amidst this forest to comfort me. |
Literal Meaning:
Why
pearls for me?
Let the polished stones lie still.
“Humble rosary peas — black and red —
echo more truly what I carry within.”
I
ask not for grace from a distance.
The Lord stepped down —
He set aside His throne,
entered the forest of my life,
and touched me in my brokenness.
He
sang me a lullaby,
not for show, not for praise,
but to quiet the ache that words cannot reach.
I, a woman of dust and fish-smell,
was not rejected — I was embraced.
This
is no myth —
this is intimacy divine.
Not ritual. Not merit.
Just the Lord…
and for a soul, bare and ready.
