247 బయ లీఁదించీ నదివో ప్రాణులను
హరిమాయ
(baya
lIdiMchI nadivO prANulanu harimAya)
తెలుగులో చదవడానికి ఇక్కడ నొక్కండి.
Introduction
"Annamacharya
stands far removed
from moralizing or
preaching.
His poetry is not born of a desire to reform others,
but flows from a deep inner clarity.
A clarity that unmasks our illusions —
without blame, without
doctrine.
It is poetry that endures, even as time flows on."
Analysis of the Kirtana’s aesthetic experience:
This kīrtana may primarily be regarded as
a dhvani kāvya — a work of suggestive poetry — for none of its ideas are
directly expressed; everything points toward an unspoken essence that cannot
easily be defined. The underlying tenor of the composition is unmistakably
surreal and otherworldly.
If the dominant sthāyī bhāva is
seen as vairāgya (detachment), then the rasa evoked is shānta rasa
— the aesthetic experience of peace. It is like a descent into deep, still
waters.
Though the element of hāsya
(humor) does not evoke mirth, it carries a quiet irony — functioning as an aṅgi
rasa — raising the eyebrows of the complacent mind. It unsettles with a
strange, unexpected nudge, prompting thought where the mind had grown still and
stale.
Since such poetic expression is layered and difficult to grasp, this kīrtana may be likened to a nārikela pākam —(नारिकेलम् , = tough nut to crack) — a coconut's inner sweetness locked within a hard shell. One must first break through its tough, unyielding layers to relish its core. And once opened, its sweetness lingers in the heart for a long time.
|
అధ్యాత్మ సంకీర్తన |
Philosophical
Poem |
|
రేకు:
251-4 సంపుటము: 3-293 |
Copper Plate: 251-4 Volume: 3-293 |
|
బయ లీఁదించీ నదివో ప్రాణులను హరిమాయ క్రియ దెలుసుకొనేటి కీలింతే కాని ॥పల్లవి॥ పెక్కుపరుషులలోన బెరశొకసతి యుంటే యిక్కువై యందే నాఁటు నిందరిచూపు దక్కి యందరి కాఁగిళ్ల తరుణి యుండుట లేదు గక్కన వట్టియాసలఁ గరఁగుటే కాని ॥బయ॥ చింతకాయ కజ్జాయము చేరి యిసుమంతవుంటే అంతటనే నోరూరు నందరికిని పొంతనే నాలుకలకు పులుసై యుండుటే లేదు కొంత భావించి మింగేటి గుటుకలే కాని ॥బయ॥ శ్రీవేంకటేశుతేరు దీసేటి మనుజులెల్లాను సేవగా నేమే తీసితిమందురు ఆవల నాతఁడే తమ అంతరాత్మయైయుండి కావించుట యెరఁగరు
గర్వములే కాని ॥బయ॥ |
baya lIdiMchI nadivO
prANulanu harimAya kriya delusukonETi
kIliMtE kAni ॥pallavi॥ pekkuparushulalOna
beraSokasati yuMTE yikkuvai yaMdE nATu
niMdarichUpu dakki yaMdari
kAgiLla taruNi yuMDuTa lEdu gakkana vaTTiyAsala
garaguTE kAni ॥baya॥ chiMtakAya kajjAyamu
chEri yisumaMtavuMTE aMtaTanE nOrUru
naMdarikini poMtanE nAlukalaku
pulusai yuMDuTE lEdu koMta bhAviMchi
miMgETi guTukalE kAni ॥baya॥ SrIvEMkaTESutEru
dIsETi manujulellAnu sEvagA nEmE
tIsitimaMduru Avala nAtaDE tama^ aMtarAtmayaiyuMDi kAviMchuTa yeragaru
garvamulE kAni ॥baya॥ |
Details and Explanation:
Chorus
(Pallavi):
|
Telugu Phrase |
Meaning |
|
బయ లీఁదించీ నదివో ప్రాణులను హరిమాయ |
Can’t you see? “HARI MAYA” (read as conditioning)
makes the people swim in illusion in open field. |
|
క్రియ దెలుసుకొనేటి
కీలింతే కాని |
Unless one understands that trick of right action, this
illusion continues to sway the people. |
Literal Meaning:
Unless one perceives action in its totality,
there is no escape from this illusion”
That is crucial.
Commentary:
The poet sees — with unclouded eyes —
how we scatter ourselves in restless motions,
driven by unseen terms we never chose:
language, learning, custom, creed, and crowd.
Yet he does not preach, nor beckon us to
follow.
He simply points —
without blame, without demand —
to where we falter,
and leaves the ‘seeing’ to us.
He sees that man
falters —
stumbling at the gates
of right action.
Yet not once
does the poet name the path.
What kind of seer is this —
who points,
but never prescribes?
And that —
is the secret he leaves us with.
Implied Meaning:
All our actions are not truly independent
—
they are involuntary responses of the mind to external cues.
Once this truth becomes clear,
there remains nothing that must be done.
That very urgency — “I have to do something” — quietly dissolves.
Explanation on Implied Meaning:
Once this becomes utterly clear to a
person,
he begins to recognize that
true action really is: “not yielding
to that force”.
Any action apart from this awareness
is simply more conditioning in disguise.
First Stanza:
|
పదబంధం |
అర్ధము |
|
పెక్కుపరుషులలోన బెరశొకసతి యుంటే |
(బెరశొకసతి = to count in total, there
is only one lady) If there is only one lady amongst many men |
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యిక్కువై యందే నాఁటు నిందరిచూపు |
All their eyes remain on her |
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దక్కి యందరి కాఁగిళ్ల తరుణి యుండుట లేదు |
Yet that lady cannot be found the arms of all men. |
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గక్కన వట్టియాసలఁ గరఁగుటే కాని |
Instantly We only melt into anticipation (of pleasures) { But everyone goes on pining in vain hope, thinking the
opportunity will be theirs.} |
Literal Meaning:
Commentary:
Let us not be distracted by the crudeness of the example — it is deliberately chosen to be vivid. The point is not provocation, but precision: to expose how imagined pleasures can overpower the mind. Annamacharya is not indulging in suggestiveness; he remains sharp-eyed, not suggestive.
Now have a clear look at a fantastic
surreal painting by Rene Magritte Titled “The Prepared Banquet”
A man with a bowler hat stands with his back to the viewer. On his coat is superimposed the figure of Flora from Botticelli’s Primavera. This is a classic Magritte technique—placing one image in front of another, not to reveal but to conceal. The man becomes a surface, a boundary. The woman is present, yet inaccessible. What we see is partial; the deeper image is always just out of reach.
This illusion echoes Annamacharya’s stanza. The men do not see the woman — they see their own projections. She is visible, yet unseen. Desire does not come from knowing her, but from imagining her. She becomes not a person, but a surface — a screen for fantasies. Magritte paints the same predicament: the true image is buried beneath what we think we see.
Look again: the man in the bowler hat
turns outward — toward the forest, the unknown world. But what defines him is
behind him — an image on his back, shaping him without his notice. So too with
us: we imagine we act freely, but our thoughts are guided by unseen forces. The
real sources of longing lie not ahead, but behind — unexamined, internal,
inherited.
This is where Magritte and Annamacharya
quietly meet—in exposing how the mind fabricates images and builds desires not
on truth, but on illusion.
Second
Stanza:
|
పదబంధం (Phrase) |
అర్థం (Telugu) |
|
చింతకాయ కజ్జాయము చేరి యిసుమంతవుంటే |
(చింతకాయ కజ్జాయము = a kind of tangy
sweet preparation must be popular in the times of Annamacharya) If a small amount of tangy sweet preparation is kept on
table |
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అంతటనే నోరూరు నందరికిని |
Every one must be desiring to have it |
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పొంతనే నాలుకలకు పులుసై యుండుటే లేదు |
Yet that tangy sweet that is not really tasted by the
tongues of all people. cannot be distributed to all people |
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కొంత భావించి మింగేటి గుటుకలే కాని |
the imagination of its consumption only brings the saliva
and the sound of swallowing |
Literal Meaning:
Commentary:
The chintakaya kajjayam —
a tangy-sweet delicacy —
stands in as an external magnet.
Our hopes, desires, and imagined pleasures
are like tiny iron filings within us.
The force that stirs them?
It comes from outside — the magnet’s pull,
subtle yet powerful, acts upon us
without our knowledge.
This isn’t just poetic analogy.
It’s a fact confirmed by science.
Recall Pavlov’s famous experiment:
He rang a bell every time he fed his dogs.
Soon, even when no food was given —
just the sound of the bell
made the dogs salivate.
This was classical conditioning.
Our minds respond in exactly the same way.
The kajjayam doesn’t enter our mouths,
yet we salivate.
Not because of what is,
but because of what was —
a memory, an association, a signal.
Past impressions awaken reactions
in the present moment.
The external object becomes a cue.
The internal response, long rehearsed,
rises instantly — almost involuntarily.
Are our thoughts truly ours, then?
Or are they well-trained patterns
laid down through repetition?
It is in this light
that Annamacharya’s line —
కొంత భావించి
మింగేటి గుటుకలే కాని
“kontha bhāvinsi miṅgēṭi guṭukalē kāni”
(“just gulps swallowed in imagined delight”) —
takes on profound meaning.
Pleasure doesn’t need substance;
imagination alone can trigger longing,
and longing can feel painfully real.
The poet’s insight is quiet but sharp:
Much of what we call experience
is but a reaction —
not of truth,
but of what the mind has been trained to expect.
Third Stanza:
|
Telugu Phrase |
Meaning |
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శ్రీవేంకటేశుతేరు దీసేటి మనుజులెల్లాను |
The people pulling the ropes to move the stone car of Lord
Venkteswara |
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సేవగా నేమే తీసితిమందురు |
Each one claims the ownership for the movement of the stone
car. |
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ఆవల నాతఁడే తమ అంతరాత్మయైయుండి |
While Lord Venkateswara is being the inner dweller |
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కావించుట యెరఁగరు గర్వములే కాని |
However due to conceit, People are unaware that these acts
are being done by Lord; |
Literal Meaning:
They pull
the chariot of Lord Venkateswara,
boasting, “We are the ones making it move!”
But they miss the subtle truth —
‘what moves’, and ‘what makes it move’, is HE alone.
Within and without, it is the Self that acts.
They believe they are the doers,
but none are the cause — only the means.
Commentary:
As if he pulled the chariot himself —
as if it moved by the strength of his grip —
Man believes every tug is his own.
Oh Krishna! What a grand illusion of effort!
He who moves the worlds —
can he be dragged by this puffed-up hare?
Alas, the true devotees not thirst
for a role that was never theirs,
and dreams woven from pride.
But in truth —
He walks His own path,
and merely lets us feel
as if we are pulling the reins.
Yet somehow —
that very pride becomes prayer,
and service, a silent mirror at our side.
Annamayya smiles gently —
revealing this secret pride,
unmasking the ego’s drama
with tenderness, and love.
SYNOPSIS of the POEM
Man
steps openly into the quicksand of karma,
unaware that the real process is inward —
a subtle mechanism of conditioning.
Annamacharya gently reveals this profound truth.
The
first stanza brings to light
the imagined yearning behind our actions.
The second stanza shows
how that yearning becomes habit and memory,
quietly taking hold of us.
Finally,
the third stanza offers the core insight:
we are not the cause —
we must not be proud of doership.
We are not the doers,
but instruments in His hands.
A striking, graceful conclusion with liberating clarity.
Last but not the least
“Everywhere I
go I find a poet has been there before me.”
― Sigmund Freud
X-X-The END-X-X
