Jhamajjham Iti Varsati

When Indra rained down torrents, 'jham-jham,' through the sport of his wheel of thunder, the sun's very disc snatched away by dense masses of cloud, he who was skilled at lifting the mountain protected the families of Vraja — may that same Indra of Vraja shatter your dreadful fear.

I glorify him who, through weighty arguments, dismantled the sacrifice meant for Indra, who spread wide his devotion for the worship of the mountain and the brahmanas, who at once united the whole community of cowherds in a single resolve, and before whom an offering was made to Govardhana, the very lord among mountains.

I glorify him who, together with groups of young maidens, well-wishing, their hair crowned with leaves, resplendent in fine garments, and together with boys loudly singing his praises with wide, sparkling eyes, scattered flowers upon the earth in that worship.

I glorify him who, having taken the very massive body of the mountain itself as the object of worship, accepted the offerings; who satisfied the wives of the cowherds with excellent gifts; who tied his own garment to the towering row of the mountain's peaks; and who, dear to all, circumambulated that mountain step by step.

When, out of fury at the destruction of his sacrifice, the lord of heaven began, on every side, to torment the cowherd settlement, and rained down again and again, the whole horizon obscured, a mass of clouds resounding with the crash of thunderbolts —

— seeing the whole community of cowherds, led by the king of Vraja, exhausted by the ceaseless rain and shattered with terror, and seeing the herds of cows grown cold and frightened, he, moved by compassion and carried onward by love for his own kinsmen, rose up —

— and then, with his left hand, as easily as an elephant king at play, he lifted up Govardhana without the least effort, that vast king of mountains touching the very clouds, joyfully holding it aloft, sheltering the bewildered creatures gathered upon it.

"O mother, why have you been so drenched with the weight of grief, when your own generous son shines resplendent right before you? All of you, my kinsmen, are freed from calamity now — do not let any confusion trouble your minds."

"The calamity is destroyed — there is no more need for fear. I have made of this mountain a vast shelter-hall. So, with joy, disregarding the rain entirely, laugh at the lord of the gods and enter within it!"

Thus reassured, the whole assembly of cowherds, their lotus faces kindled with supreme joy, drew close to the mountain's body, which had become like a very mansion, and, overjoyed after such a long ordeal, began to praise it all around.

"O Vishakha, how can your friend possibly hold this heavy king of mountains upon his tender hand? Beholding this before my very eyes, alas, my own mind again and again breaks apart with this very anxious thought."

"With the clouds thundering harshly, terrible with darkness, the wind swirling wildly, all hope lost in this very hour, how, O lotus-eyed one, could your beloved, bearing this cloud-touching peak along with the heaped-up food offering, not become utterly exhausted?"

"Not one of the sturdy-limbed, powerfully built cowherd men remains standing here in the settlement any more — how many fierce ones are there all around! Yet upon one as tender as a row of shirisha blossoms, this immense burden has been placed — is this right, O noble one?"

"O dear Govardhana Hill, this is my prayer to you: make your massive body as light as a slender reed's stalk, so that as he holds you upon his hand, he suffers no fatigue at all. O blessed one, obeisances unto you."

"O friend, look closely at the face of the enemy of Mura, so charming with the radiance of his smile amid his tumbling curls, its cheeks gleaming with beauty, awakening boundless longing, its eyes dancing with brightness, gracious and abundant as a field of fine grain."

Thus having drunk the honeyed nectar of Radha's vine-like words, intoxicated without restraint by the abundant fragrance of her supreme love, humming loudly like a bee even in his intoxication, Krishna receives homage through the very play of that fine woman's restless sidelong glances.

"How could my child Mukunda, his belly thin and weak with hunger, possibly go on bearing this weighty king of mountains? So, O lord of Vraja, quickly place in his mouth this sweet made rich with curd and sugar-candy!"

"While your younger brother stands bearing this immense weight, I, O Balarama, feel a boundless anguish, my heart wrapped as if in dark cloth of grief. So please, gathering your own strength, give him without delay the support of your own hand."

Hearing his mother's affectionate words in this way, and gazing tenderly upon her, Krishna, the mountain resting upon the tip of his little finger, brought delight to the whole anxious community of cowherds.

By what power has this child, still skilled only in playing in the dust, his throat still smelling of milk, become so utterly unhindered, that today, at just seven years of age, he bears this immense weight, this mountain as substantial as Kailasa itself?

We have no fear at all of it slipping and crashing down upon us, for he carries it so effortlessly, even upon the very tip of his fingernail; see how, this very day, the mountain rests upon his arm just as the whole earth is said to rest upon the trunk-tip of the elephant of the directions.

Thus, with wide, unblinking eyes, free from all thought of their own comfort, joined in loving devotion together with the king of Vraja, the cowherd men gazed again and again upon that moon-like face before them, having set aside all sleep for the seven nights that followed.

Holding as insignificant as mere straw those terrible clouds, laced with lightning-streaks, roused by fierce winds, releasing their streams of rain, strung with rainbow-bows, dreadful, thieves that stole the very sun's thousand rays, roaring uncontrollably, he treated all of them with utter disregard.

Thoroughly rejecting the boundless, unbearable arrogance of the enemy of Bala, whose very vision had been swallowed up by the mire of his own false pride, who had unleashed this immense downpour upon the lord of Vraja, Krishna dealt out to that wicked one a punishment matching his offense.

Their immense waters spent, the howling winds stilled, the clouds, once terrible with lightning, dispersed and departed; and now the sun shines peacefully once more within the sky. "Our joy is complete — come outside, you heroes all!"

Having spoken thus, and having set down the great mountain back to its former place, his fear for his kinsmen now gone, Krishna was joyfully showered with curd, milk, and parched rice by the devoted women, who thereby spread abroad his glory.

Ah, Govinda, so full of beauty, we offer our obeisances unto you for the sake of our own well-being; graciously bestow upon us, with joy, but a single drop of that pure love which shines so openly, revealed like the moon itself, within you.

By whom Indra, the enemy of Jambha, whose grave undertaking had begun with the swelling thunder of restless thunderbolts and massing clouds, was made to lose all his pride through the very swift prowess by which the mountain was held aloft — we glorify you today, O Govinda, whose form shames even the delight-giving splendor of a cluster of blue lotus petals, O joy of the moon-faced household of Nanda; we offer our glorification unto you.