Parshuram Chalisa

Holding Shri Guru’s lotus-beauty feet in my heart’s temple,

remembering Ganesh-Sharada, taking Tripurari’s blessing.

Know me witless, a store of faults;

I sing Parshuram’s glory as best I can.

Hail Lord Parshuram, ocean of joy; hail foremost of sages, sun of virtue and wisdom.

Crown of Bhrigu’s line, dread battle-hero; Kshatriya radiance on a saint’s body.

Jamadagni’s son, Renuka-born; splendour and glory covering the whole world.

In noble bright Vaishakha fortnight, on charming Tritiya-Punarvasu.

In night’s first watch, neither cold nor heat, on Pradosh-tithi, home of joy.

Then in the sage’s hut a babe wailed, born from Renuka’s womb.

Six planets stood exalted in their houses; Rahu in Gemini, deep in joy.

Taking radiant wisdom in human body, Brahman incarnated in Jamadagni’s home.

The child took pure Rama’s name; chanting it, the world finds rest.

Tripundra on brow, fair matted crown; munja-grass thread charming on shoulder.

Lovely girdle, deer-hide at waist; Rudra-beads on the broad noble chest.

Yellow robes grace the fair form; quiver and bow on shoulder enchant the heart.

Knower of Vedas, Puranas, Shrutis, Smritis; famed through the world in wrathful form.

In the right hand you raised Shri Parashu; Veda-texts grace your left.

Learned, boundlessly virtuous and wise; master of both scripture and arms.

Fourteen worlds and nine lands; in all directions your fierce glory and fame.

Once with Ganapati, Bhrigu’s lotus-moth(?) grappled.

Breaking a tusk, you ended the fray; hence Ganapati is called One-tusked.

Kartavirya Arjuna the king, thousand-armed, dread villain.

Eyeing the divine cow at Jamadagni’s, he resolved to keep it in his own house.

Denied when he demanded, he warred, losing to the world’s laughter.

The villain’s heart filled with deep spite; enmity toward the sage swelled greatly.

While the great sage sat rapt in meditation, the king struck him with a lance.

The lance felled Jamadagni, as if fate turned against the Kshatriya line.

Hearing of his father’s murder and mother’s heavy wailing, boundless grief and rage arose.

Grasping the keen dread axe, at once you slew the villains.

With Kshatriya blood you made your father’s libation, avenging his murder.

Twenty-one times you emptied the earth of Kshatriyas, seizing the land for Brahmins.

In Treta’s fair deeds, Raghunath broke Shiva’s bow.

Taking your guru’s bow-breaker as foe, you resolved his utter ruin.

Then Ram Raghunath folded hands, entreating, then showing his power.

Bhishma, Drona, mighty Karna became endless disciples in Dvapara.

Granting scriptural lore, you earned fair fame, spreading guru-glory to world’s ends.

All four ages sang your glory — gods, sages, men, demons together.

Giving wealth to Kashyapa and the rest, you went to Mount Mahendra for penance.

Ever rapt in samadhi, Lord, before whom all worlds daily bow.

You deem all four castes alike; impartial Lord God.

Your shelter grants the four rewards — to gods, demons, men, kings, beggars.

Whoever reads this Parashu Chalisa finds Gaurisha ever favourable.

Full-moon night and day, O Lord; dwell in my heart, inner-knower.

Parshuram’s fair tale ends all ignorance; to shelter-seekers the Lord ever grants fair fame. Salutations to Parashu, sun of Bhrigu’s line, crusher of the thousand-armed one, delight of Renuka’s eyes, Brahmins’ treasure.