As Ramanuja and his disciples scoured through each of the king’s grand halls, they stumbled upon various other idols that had been stolen from Hindu temples, but Sampatkumara, the utsava idol they sought, was nowhere to be seen.
Dhruva excitedly scampered into the royal chamber, where his father King Uttanapada was seated on the royal throne with his wife Queen Suruchi. Seeing his stepbrother Uttama perched on their father’s lap, five-year old Dhruva started running up the flight of stairs to reach the throne.
Everyone in town recognized the nightly resounding clattering of iron. Every day, Kuresha, the town’s richest and most generous man, opened up the gates of his mansion and allowed—no, encouraged—anyone from town to come and take anything they wanted. After sunset, he would shut his iron gate with an ear-splitting bang heard through all of…
With only his bow and arrow for company, King Parikshit was left all by himself, and he was hungry. Very hungry. He walked—as quickly as his fatigue allowed him—in search of some traces of human inhabitation. At last, the famished king stumbled upon a serene hermitage and spotted a sage seated in deep meditation. Parikshit’s dry…
Her mother-in-law rolled her eyes. “Oh, really? It’s scary, huh?” she asked, feigning sympathy. “Too bad, because who else do you expect to do it? Me?” She giggled as if the mere thought of it was outrageous. “Now, stop talking and get going to the lake. The water is not going to fetch itself, you know? If you hate household work so much, your poor old father should have sent a servant along when he married you off. Oh! I forgot! He can’t afford one, can he?”
Stars glistened in the dark but clear sky and were positioned auspiciously. All the other planets and celestial objects steadily moved with tranquility. Mother Earth proudly continued adorning her ornaments of towns, villages, fields, and forests. Buoyant songbirds and susurrus bees buzzed and twittered with joy as they were caressed by an aromatic zephyr. Every lake was brimming with water, and every tree wore lush green leaves. All of nature was at its best.
Ramanuja’s intense desire to meet the blessed Goshti Purna was growing by the day.
“You know, I can quite confidently say that there is no other Srivaishnava equal to him,” Ramanuja’s acharya Maha Purna had told him. “He is the only one who knows the secret and powerful Vaishnava mantra. Seek him and serve him—if he is pleased, he may share it with you.”
One day, Parikshit was traveling back home in his chariot. As he approached the Sarasvati River, the king came across a disturbing scene that made his jaw drop in shock. He pulled the black horses drawing his chariot to a stop.
Vishnuchitta was almost done stringing his garland. Making a beautiful flower garland for the Lord in the local Vatapatrashayi Temple in Srivilliputhur was his daily offering of love. All of a sudden, he heard the faint cry of a baby. He didn’t think much of it and simply headed toward the tulsi bush in his…
A little five-year-old boy silently walked by his mother on her way to her next gig. A group of traveling saints were staying in their village for the rainy season. and the boy’s mother had been employed to clean the hermitage.
