Narmada Mata Chalisa

Goddess Narmada, much-worshipped, your glory is unfathomable;

poets and devotees generously describe this Chalisa.

By her service, great sins are forever destroyed;

performing japa and charity on her banks, humans attain constant wisdom.

Hail, hail, hail Narmada Bhavani. Your glory is known across the world.

Mother, you emerged from Amarkantak. You are the giver of every siddhi and the nine treasures.

In the form of a young girl, treasury of every quality. When you manifested as Narmada Bhavani.

On the seventh, with the sun in Makar, on a Sunday. In Ashwini, in Magh month, you took avatar.

The makara suits you as vehicle. You sit upon a lotus.

Brahma, Hari, Hara all meditate upon you. Then they too receive the heart’s wished fruit.

On taking your darshan, sins are cut away. Crores of devotees daily bathe in you.

Whoever meditates on you daily goes to Rudra-loka.

Even crocodiles find joy in your waters. At the last moment, they attain the supreme state.

A crown always adorns your head. Your own anklets shine on your feet.

Mother, you make the kal-kal sound. Mother, you lift sin and affliction.

From east to west you flow, Mother, with peacocks dancing on the banks.

The sage Shaunaka sings your virtues. Suta and the others sing your fame.

Even Shiva and Ganesh sing your virtues. All the gods meditate upon you.

Crores of tirthas line Narmada’s banks. They are all called lifters of sorrow.

Fulfilling every heart’s wish. Mother, you daily lift every sorrow.

At Kankhal, the glory of Ganga. At Kurukshetra, the glory of Saraswati.

But Narmada, in every village and forest. Mother dwells eternally in auspiciousness.

Bathing in you even once liberates seven generations.

Daughter of Mekal, you are Reva. The gods daily sing your bhajan.

Jata-Shankari is your name. You have liberated countless people.

You are self-arising Narmada. You are sin-liberating Reva.

Your glory cannot be described. Mother, the greatness cannot be sung.

Mother, your waters’ splendour is great. Beautiful and joy-giving.

Your gait is like a serpent’s. Your glory is utterly unfathomable.

Even bones placed in your water become precious stones on touching.

Whoever bathes in Yamuna receives the fruit in seven days.

Saraswati gives the fruit in three days. Ganga gives it immediately after.

But on taking the very darshan of Reva, humans receive the fruit heart-full.

Your glory is very great, which men and women sing.

Whoever bathes in you daily is worshipped in Rudra-loka.

Healing herbs flourish on your banks. Captivating views always adorn them.

A fragrant wind blows on your shore, lifting humans’ bodily pain.

Every ghat’s glory is great. Even poets cannot sing it all.

I do not know your proper worship. And I have no other refuge.

Be pleased with me, Mother. You alone, Mother, are moksha’s giver.

Whoever recites this daily finds honour ever growing.

Whoever sings it a hundred times receives learning, wealth, prosperity.

Whoever reads it countless times finds heart’s wishes fulfilled.

Narmada dwells in every heart. Here, there, everywhere – Narmada.

Bringing devotion into the heart, whoever performs the jap — by Mother’s grace, every sorrow is lifted away.