Shakambhari Mata Chalisa

I salute Mother Shakambhari, meditating on the guru’s feet;

I proclaim Mother Shakambhari’s Chalisa.

Mother Shakambhari, most joy-giving; perfect Brahman, ever ending sorrow.

Cause of causes, giver to the world; bliss-conscious ordainer of the universe.

Undying is your flame, Mother; ever doer of devotees’ good.

Boundless, fathomless glory, Aparna; Mother Aparna to Brahma-Hari-Hara.

Treasure of wisdom, merciful to the lowly, filling surrendered homes with cheer.

Narayani, revealer of Brahman; imperishable in water, land, sky.

Lotus-radiant, peace ...; embodiment of light and grace.

Whenever devotees meditated, your flame appeared manifest.

Enthroned with your beloved sister, adorned with Mother Shatakshi.

Dread, formidable, fierce-formed; the third sister’s flame is unique.

Your fourth sister Bhramari, wondrous, swift, heart-captivating.

Before you stands brave Bhairav, who fought demon hosts hard.

Lord Shiva Shankar, innocent-storied, ever doing saints’ good.

Hanuman ... yours; ever Mother Shakambhari’s servant.

Flag in hand, Hanuman shines, arrayed with Mother on the battlefield.

Kalaratri bears fierce form, the Mother’s sister most dread.

Ten wisdoms, nine Durgas and the rest — seekers of truth meditate on you.

Eight siddhis Ganapati grants; child-formed refuge-giving Mother.

Mother, guardian of the storehouse, worthy of first worship.

For the world’s sole wandering cause(?) — Shiva’s power, rending the wicked.

Bhura-deva ... second, who is worshipped first.

Mighty Bajrangi is your servant, walking along singing your fame.

Five kos is your expanse; your play is most vast.

You became Raktadantika, drinking blood, slaying demons.

You destroyed Raktabija, taking Chhinnamastika’s form.

Accomplished yoginis attend in hundreds; you dwell in seven pools.

Taking swan(?) form, giving food, you ferried person after person.

From grief’s fall you saved sages, ending grieving people’s woes.

Gentle Kali came to Kamaleshwar; lovely Shiva, giving devotees joy.

Offerings of halwa-puri stores, flag, coconut, vermilion marks.

The red veil looks lovely; accepting this gift, end our woes.

To the blind you show eyes; to lepers you grant thriving bodies.

In barren homes you make children play; to the poor you grant ample wealth.

Giving joy, you ferry devotees, ordering saints’ and good men’s affairs.

Flame shining from the earth’s orb, Mother Shakambhari, ender of woe.

Sweet, sweet is your smile; birth after birth, you know us.

I offer myself to your lotus feet; hail, hail, hail, world-mother.

Kanta’s(?) Chalisa grants deep joy, ending peril, woe, doubt.

Whoever sings the Chalisa finds Mother’s grace and deep joy.

Kanta Prasad of Jagadhari, expounding Shakambhari’s essence with love.

Slayer of Durgasura, doing the world’s work; Shakambhari, mother, Shiva’s queen, guard my honour. Age after age, your vow delivers devotees; that beloved one comes to your door.