ANNAMACHARYA
219.
ఉయ్యాల మంచముమీఁద నూఁచి వేసారితిమి
uyyAla maMchamumIda
nUchi vEsAritimi
This is Annamacharya’s soliloquy. The poetry that emerged in an elevated state free from personal desires or cultural conditioning. He took language to places untouched by poetry, devotion, or philosophy - to a gentle, intangible space where meanings and words merge and dissolve. He didn’t try to capture the extraordinary experience; instead, he stood within it, letting it speak through him as a listener, allowing us to hear it.
Grace of God is beyond our petty
considerations. Therefore, Annamacharya is requesting us to join this journey without
judgement of present dispositions. In this poem, for those who listen or read,
a profound transformation unfolds before their eyes:
Pallavi: A sign of yearning, inner restlessness.
First Stanza: The problem — being trapped in
illusion, settling into the world of sensory pleasures.
Second Stanza: A herald of transformation — with the
grace of the Divine, the soul begins to prepare itself for peace and
transcendence of desires.
Third Stanza: Realization — the return to truth, clarity, and bliss.
This poem is not easily understood at first glance. But it is not unclear either. It is very real, and powerful, and when we are able to see through a perspective not bound by the mind, it becomes easy to grasp. This is the greatness of Annamacharya. He fills language with flames, somehow enters in our hearts, and revealing the truth directly.
Summary of the Poem:
Chorus:
First Stanza: Here, the "moon-faced
beauty" is a symbol — an embodiment of softness and radiant purity. She
stands in endless anticipation. In such longing, there is no sleep. No rest. No
matter what surrounds her, the soul finds no peace. Silently, she keeps waiting
— for the darkness to lift and the light to arrive. “What can she do?” Though
she stands amidst soothing fragrances, a palace of sandalwood, and a chamber
filled with perfume — there is no true sleep. No real wakefulness either. For
all the outward comforts, when the heart remains unfulfilled, silence is
nowhere to be found. Her wakefulness is confusion — a restless drift. A
churning of the spirit in search of inner stillness - a quiet torment.
Second Stanza: She is the very
arrow of Manmatha — delicate, irresistible, and transient. But unlike the
outwardly romantic imagery, here the "flower-arrow" is not a
celebration of union, but an emblem of bondage to sensory charm. Annamayya
flips the symbol — this isn't playful desire; it's the tool of nature’s snare. No
interaction. This is not silence of realization, but of inertia. Of Tamas
(తమోగుణం), the sleep
continues under closed lids. The "repplu" (eyelashes) are not
barriers, but symbolic shutters pulled down over perception. We do not close
our eyes in peace — we close them in avoidance. When the
eyelids slightly part — not fully open yet — a truth seeps in. That we
have been asleep to life, ignorant of joy, playing in tamas.
And when even a glimpse of that realization dawns — tears flood. It is not just
sorrow. It is the cost of misused time. The weeping of awakening.
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శృంగార కీర్తన |
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రేకు:
30-6 సంపుటము: 5-172 |
Copper
Leaf:30-6 Volume:
5-172 |
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ఉయ్యాల మంచముమీఁద నూఁచి వేసారితిమి
ముయ్యదించుకయు రెప్ప మూసినాఁ దెరచును ॥పల్లవి॥ చందమామ పాదమాన సతికి వేఁగినదాఁకా
యెందును నిద్రలేదేమి సేతమే
గందపుటోవరిలోనఁ గప్పురంపుటింటిలోన
యిందుముఖి పవ్వళించు నింతలోనే లేచును ॥ఉయ్యాల॥ పంచసాయకుని పుష్పబాణమాన యిందాఁక
మంచముపై బవ్వళించి మాటలాడదు
నించిన వాలుగన్నుల నిద్దురంటానుండితిమి
వంచిన రెప్పలవెంట వడిసీఁ గన్నీరు ॥ఉయ్యాల॥ వెన్నెలల వేంకటాద్రివిభుని లేనవ్వులాన
నన్నుఁ జూచియైనాఁ జెలి నవ్వదాయను
ఇన్నిటాను సంతసిల్లి యీ దేవదేవుని గూడి
మన్ననల యింత లోన మలసీని జెలియ ॥ఉయ్యాల॥
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uyyAla
maMchamumIda nUchi vEsAritimi
muyyadiMchukayu
reppa mUsinA derachun ॥pallavi॥ chaMdamAma
pAdamAna satiki vEginadAkA
yeMdunu
nidralEdEmi sEtamE
gaMdapuTOvarilOna
gappuraMpuTiMTilOna
yiMdumukhi
pavvaLiMchu niMtalOnE lEchunu॥uyyAla॥ paMchasAyakuni
pushpabANamAna yiMdAka
maMchamupai
bavvaLiMchi mATalADadu
niMchina
vAlugannula nidduraMTAnuMDitimi
vaMchina
reppalaveMTa vaDisI gannIru ॥uyyAla॥ vennelala
vEMkaTAdrivibhuni lEnavvulAna
nannu jUchiyainA
jeli navvadAyanu
inniTAnu
saMtasilli yI dEvadEvuni gUDi
mannanala yiMta
lOna malasIni jeliya ॥uyyAla॥
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Details and explanations:
ఉయ్యాల
మంచముమీఁద నూఁచి వేసారితిమి
ముయ్యదించుకయు రెప్ప మూసినాఁ దెరచును
॥పల్లవి॥
Literal Meaning:
"They rock us on this endless cradle of life
and death.
Even if we close our eyes for rest, they only open elsewhere.
Commentary and comparisons:
Part 1: Celestial Swing
And so, the Swing of Life never stops.
Part 2: Comparison
with Sleep (1937) a surrealist painting by Salvador Dalí.
Dalí paints a bizarre image (as given above): a bloated,
wrinkled head suspended midair, propped up by crutches. It does not symbolize
rest — it speaks of instability and fragility.
This
mirrors the essence of Annamacharya’s cradle:
- The cradle and
Dalí’s crutches — both depict a fragile state of suspension, not true
stillness.
- The sagging face —
like the soul in sleep — appears still but is far from liberation.
- In the pallavi, it is said that even when the eyelids close, they open again — hinting at a restlessness that never allows for true sleep. Similarly, in Dali’s painting, the figure seems disturbed — perhaps by the wind, or by one of the supporting props falling. It readjusts into a new posture, like someone roused from sleep, struggling to settle again. The scene evokes a condition where tranquility remains just out of reach — never truly attained
In both, sleep
is not rest. Stillness is only an illusion — movement lies beneath.
Dalí’s “Sleep” becomes a striking visual metaphor for
the human condition. Annamacharya laments a life caught in the cradle of
samsara (this temporal world) swaying between birth and death, never truly
free.
First
Stanza:
Literal
Meaning:
చందమామ పాదమాన సతికి వేఁగినదాఁకా / యెందును నిద్రలేదేమి సేతమే: Here, the "moon-faced beauty" is a symbol — an embodiment of softness and radiant purity. She stands in endless anticipation. In such longing, there is no sleep. No rest. No matter what surrounds her, the soul finds no peace. Silently, she keeps waiting — for the darkness to lift and the light to arrive. “What can she do?”
గందపుటోవరిలోనఁ
గప్పురంపుటింటిలోన / యిందుముఖి పవ్వళించు నింతలోనే
లేచును: Though she stands amidst soothing fragrances, a palace of
sandalwood, and a chamber filled with perfume — there is no true sleep. No real
wakefulness either. For all the outward comforts, when the heart remains
unfulfilled, silence is nowhere to be found. Her wakefulness is confusion — a
restless drift. A churning of the spirit in search of inner stillness — a quiet
torment.
Commentary:
Similarly, in Gita 2.28, Krishna reminds Arjuna that grief over the death, or the apparent end of life is futile because the soul itself is eternal. Just as Annamacharya’s moon-faced woman remains in a state of longing and waiting, unaware of the transient nature of her surroundings, people in life often remain trapped in desires, confusing the impermanent with the permanent. Their restlessness, much like the woman’s, stems from an inability to understand the true nature of existence.
Now compare the maid’s condition to a painting titled “Elective Affinities” by Rene Magritte given below. The picture with an egg caged is self-explanatory. Egg is indicative of possibility for transforming into a bird, liberation.
This is not a cage of desire.
It is a security we ourselves have constructed—
A security born from unknown fears,
From unseen forces,
It is the illusion of safety—
A security without understanding.
A sense of protection born without maturity,
A structure built out of fear.
A desperate grip to go on living
Second
Stanza:
Literal Meaning:
In
this stanza, Annamacharya continues to deepen the portrayal of the restless
soul, using metaphors that are both poignant and powerful.
పంచసాయకుని
పుష్పబాణమాన యిందాఁక: - She is the very arrow of Manmatha —
delicate, irresistible, and transient. But unlike the outwardly romantic
imagery, here the "flower-arrow" is not a celebration of union, but
an emblem of bondage to sensory charm. Annamayya flips the symbol — this isn't
playful desire; it's the tool of nature’s snare.
మంచముపై బవ్వళించి మాటలాడదు: She lies still, not speaking a word. The arrow that once flew with energy and intent now lies dormant, symbolizing the soul that, despite its yearning and emotional beauty, finds itself unable to find resolution. It speaks to a silence that comes from inner conflict or despair. The soul, though full of beauty, does not find the words to express its unrest. Instead, it remains in a passive state, caught in confusion and waiting for release.
నించిన వాలుగన్నుల నిద్దురంటానుండితిమి: Her eyelids
flutter as though sleep eludes her, though she seeks it. The fluttering eyelids
are symbolic of an inner struggle — a soul that cannot sleep, that cannot rest.
Despite the quietude and external comforts, she remains alert, unable to escape
the confusion and turmoil within. This condition mirrors the inner restlessness
faced by many who experience emotional turmoil, caught between the longing for
peace and the inability to find it.
వంచిన రెప్పలవెంట వడిసీఁ గన్నీరు: this line explodes. When the eyelids slightly part — not fully open yet — a truth seeps in. That we have been asleep to life, ignorant of joy, playing in tamas. And when even a glimpse of that realization dawns — tears flood. It is not just sorrow. It is the cost of misused time. The weeping of awakening.
Commentary:
Annamacharya’s second stanza mirrors a core idea from the Gita (11.33): “निमित्तमात्रं भव सव्यसाचिन् You are but the instrument.” The divine will is already in motion - but the soul must be refined to serve it.
The woman in the poem, like Arjuna, is caught in desire and restlessness. Her tears and fluttering eyes aren’t weakness - they show an instrument not yet tuned. She is the arrow of Kāma, but still unaware of the purpose – to spread love and compassion.
This inner turmoil is necessary. It prepares her to shed illusion, transcend longing, and align with a higher purpose. Just as Arjuna must rise above sorrow, the woman too must awaken.
Thus, the
stanza isn’t just about pain — it’s the beginning of transformation. A soul
being readied to play its part in the divine symphony.
J.
Krishnamurti once fell into a bottomless sorrow after the death of his brother
Nitya. For about ten days, he was overwhelmed by uncontrollable weeping. But
when he emerged from that grief, he said something remarkable: “I know how to
weep — that is human. I know now, with greater certainty than ever before,
that there is real beauty in life…” These words resonate deeply with the
second stanza.
Third
Stanza:
వెన్నెలల వేంకటాద్రివిభుని
లేనవ్వులాన
నన్నుఁ జూచియైనాఁ జెలి నవ్వదాయను
ఇన్నిటాను సంతసిల్లి యీ దేవదేవుని గూడి
మన్ననల యింత లోన మలసీని జెలియ ॥ఉయ్యాల॥
Literal
Meaning:
ఇన్నిటాను సంతసిల్లి యీ దేవదేవుని గూడి / మన్ననల యింత లోన మలసీని జెలియ
“I know not the moment my heart turned to the Lord
of Lords —
but my whole being swelled and throbbed with joy.”
Interpretation:
In this stanza, Annamacharya presents a powerful expression of spiritual transformation and ecstasy, marking the culmination of the internal journey.
The first two lines are a reflection of doubtful existence. The speaker, symbolizing the soul, stands before the divine without expectation, in a state of humility and quiet longing. The moon light – a hazy feeling. Suggests a moment of spiritual confusion or solitude. Yet, even in this state, there is an underlying awareness and patience, with no demands or immediate responses from the divine.
This waiting is a profound state of surrender, where the soul doesn't seek answers or immediate rewards. It is similar to the idea expressed by John Milton, “They also serve who only stand and wait.” The essence of this line is that waiting with devotion, even without visible action or external recognition, is itself an important act of spiritual service.
In summary, the third stanza reflects the final realization in the journey of the soul, where waiting and surrender lead to a transformative union with the divine. It emphasizes that true devotion does not require outward action, but can be found in the stillness of the heart, filled with patience, surrender, and trust. Through this sacred silence, the soul experiences the ecstasy of divine union.
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