Verse 1
केसव! कहि न जाइ का कहिये। देखत तव रचना बिचित्र हरि! समुझि मनहिं मन रहिये ॥ १ ॥
Kesava! kahi na jāi kā kahiye. Dekhat tava rachanā vichitra Hari! samujhi manahī mana rahiye || 1 ||
O Keshava! What can I say? Nothing can be said! O Hari! Witnessing Your wondrous and mysterious creation, I can only understand it within my heart and remain silent.
Verse 2
सून्य भीति पर चित्र, रंग नहिं, तनु बिनु लिखा चितेरे। धोये मिटइ न मरइ भीति, दुख पाइय एहि तनु हेरे ॥ २ ॥
Sūnya bhīti para chitra, ranga nahī, tanu binu likhā chitere. Dhoye mitai na marai bhīti, dukha pāiya ehi tanu here || 2 ||
On the empty wall of void, without color and without physical form, the divine Artist has painted this picture. This painting cannot be washed away (like ordinary paintings), yet it fears death. And gazing upon this body brings only sorrow.
The formless Creator has manifested this entire universe upon the canvas of pure consciousness (void) without using any physical materials through mere will and Maya. Unlike ordinary paintings that can be erased, this cosmic illusion cannot be easily removed. Though the painting itself is inert, it experiences the fear of mortality. Observing this physical existence with all its limitations brings suffering.
Verse 3
रबिकर-नीर बसै अति दारुन मकर रूप तेहि माहीं। बदन-हीन सो ग्रसै चराचर, पान करन जे जाहीं ॥ ३ ॥
Rabikara-nīra basai ati dāruna makara rūpa tehi māhī. Badana-hīna so grasai charāchara, pāna karana je jāhī || 3 ||
In the water (mirage) that appears in the sun’s rays dwells a most terrible crocodile. Though this crocodile has no mouth, it devours all, both moving and unmoving beings, whoever goes there to drink.
This world is like the illusory water seen in the sun’s rays (a mirage). Just as a thirsty deer runs after this false water and dies without finding it, similarly, those who chase after worldly pleasures find only disappointment. Within this illusory world dwells the formless crocodile of Time/Death (Kala), which, though without a physical mouth, consumes everything, all living beings (charā) and non-living things (achara) that enter the stream of time.
Verse 4
कोउ कह सत्य, झूठ कह कोऊ, जुगल प्रबल कोउ मानै। तुलसिदास परिहरै तीन भ्रम, सो आपन पहिचानै ॥ ४ ॥
Kou kaha satya, jhūṭha kaha koū, jugala prabala kou mānai. Tulasīdāsa pariharai tīna bhrama, so āpana pahichānai || 4 ||
Some call (this world) true, some call it false, and some believe it to be a powerful combination of both. Tulsidas says: whoever transcends these three illusions, that person alone recognizes their true Self.
Different philosophical schools debate the nature of reality; some declare the world absolutely real (materialists), some declare it completely false/illusory (extreme Advaitins), and some say it is both real and unreal (qualified non-dualists). However, Tulsidas suggests that all three positions are themselves forms of delusion. The one who rises above these three intellectual positions and sees everything as the Divine play (leela) of the Supreme Being, that person alone attains true Self-knowledge and recognizes their essential nature.
“O Keshav! What can I say? Words fail me! O Hari! Witnessing Your wondrous creation, I can only understand it within my heart and remain silent.”
Thus begins one of the deepest contemplations by the great saint-poet Goswami Tulsidas. In these opening lines, we encounter a soul overwhelmed by the mystery of existence itself. Tulsidas ji addresses the Divine by the names Keshav (the one with beautiful hair, Lord Krishna) and Hari (the remover of sorrows, Lord Vishnu), acknowledging that before the vastness of cosmic creation, human expression falls woefully short.
This is not mere poetic humility; it is the recognition that some truths transcend language. The universe in all its bewildering complexity, its joys and sorrows, its beauty and terror, can only be comprehended as divine play (leela). And so the wise person, says Tulsidas, understands this silently within and accepts it as it is.
“On the empty wall of void, without color or physical form, the Artist has painted. This painting cannot be washed away, yet it fears death. And gazing upon this body brings only sorrow.”
What is this mysterious painting? It is nothing less than the world itself, Maya, the cosmic illusion.
The “empty wall” (sūnya bhīti) represents the formless absolute reality, the void of pure consciousness. Upon this, the divine Artist (chitere), the Supreme Being, has painted the entire universe without using any physical materials (tanu binu, ranga nahī), through mere intention and thought. Unlike ordinary paintings that can be washed away (dhoye mitai), this creation of Maya cannot be easily erased. It persists, binding us in its spell.
Yet remarkably, though the painting itself is not alive, it fears death (marai bhīti). We, as parts of this cosmic painting, experience mortality and its accompanying dread. And when we truly observe this “painted body”, this physical existence (ehi tanu here) with all its limitations, we find not joy but suffering (dukha pāiya).
This verse captures the concept that the material world is neither completely real nor completely unreal. It exists as a kind of divine projection, substantial enough to bind us, yet ultimately insubstantial when compared to the eternal truth.
“In the sunlight’s rays appears water, most terrible, and within it dwells a crocodile. Though this crocodile has no mouth, it devours all, both moving and unmoving, who go there to drink.”
Here we encounter the ancient metaphor of the desert mirage (rabikara-nīra—literally “sun-ray water”). The thirsty deer, seeing water shimmering in the distance, runs toward it only to find nothing and dies of thirst. Similarly, we chase after the illusory pleasures of the world, mistaking them for lasting happiness.
But Tulsidas ji adds that within this mirage-water lurks a most terrible crocodile (ati dāruna makara). This is Kala, Time, Death itself. Though formless and without physical jaws (badana-hīna, mouthless), it consumes everything (grasai). No one who enters the stream of time escapes its grasp. The rich and poor, the wise and foolish, the moving creatures (charā) and the still (achara), all are devoured by this invisible predator.
The metaphor works on multiple levels. We pursue worldly satisfactions (the mirage-water) but find them ultimately unfulfilling. Meanwhile, time relentlessly consumes our lives (pāna karana je jāhī, whoever goes there to drink). We are caught between false promises and inevitable mortality.
In his conclusion, Tulsidas ji addresses the fundamental question: What is the nature of this world?
“Some call it true, some call it false, some believe it to be a mixture of both. Tulsidas says: whoever transcends these three illusions, understanding everything as the Divine play(Lila), that person alone recognizes their true nature.”
Goswami ji presents three common philosophical positions:
- The world is real (satya) = the materialist or realist view
- The world is false (jhūṭha)= the pure illusionist view
- The world is both real and unreal (jugala prabala) = the qualified non-dualist view
Tulsidas ji suggests that even these sophisticated philosophical positions are themselves forms of delusion (bhrama)! Why? Because they all treat the world as something separate from the Divine, something to be categorized and judged.
The true wisdom, he suggests, lies in transcending all three positions (pariharai tīna bhrama). When we see everything, the pleasant and unpleasant, the real and unreal, the temporary and eternal, as expressions of divine leela (play), we move beyond intellectual categorization into direct realization.
This is not philosophical nihilism or indifference. Rather, it is an acceptance that places all experience within the context of the sacred. In this vision, there is no separation between the Divine and creation, between spirit and matter, between the eternal and the temporal.
“That person alone recognizes their true nature” (so āpana pahichānai), concludes Sant Tulsidas.
This is the ultimate promise: when we stop trying to definitively label reality, when we cease our endless philosophical debates about what is real and what is not, when we simply see the Divine hand in everything, then and only then do we discover who we truly are.
Our true nature is not found through intellectual analysis but through a shift in perception. We are not separate observers trying to figure out an external reality. We are integral parts of the cosmic painting, expressions of the divine Artist’s creativity, waves in the infinite ocean of consciousness.
Though written centuries ago, Tulsidas’s verses speak powerfully to our modern condition. We live in an age of unprecedented information yet extreme confusion. We debate endlessly about the nature of reality, through science, philosophy, and spirituality, yet often feel disconnected from any deeper meaning.
Perhaps what Tulsidas ji offers is not another philosophical system to adopt, but an invitation to a different way of being. Instead of trying to master reality through concepts and categories, we might simply witness it with wonder, understanding it as mystery, as play, as the inexplicable creativity of existence itself.
In our suffering, we might see not punishment but the inevitable result of attachment to the impermanent. In the passage of time, we might recognize not an enemy but the rhythm of transformation that allows for all experience. And in the very incomprehensibility of it all, we might find not frustration but an invitation to humility and grace.
Return to where it began: “O Keshava! What can I say? Nothing can be said!”
Perhaps the deepest teaching in these verses is that ultimate truth cannot be captured in words, only experienced and lived. Tulsidas ji writes these verses not to add to the noise of philosophical debate, but to point beyond all concepts to a direct recognition of the Divine in everything.
When we truly understand the cosmic painting on the empty wall, when we see through the mirage to the mouthless crocodile of time, when we transcend the three illusions about reality, then words fall away, and we rest in silent understanding within our hearts.
This is not the silence of ignorance or defeat, but the profound silence of recognition, the peace that comes when we finally stop trying to explain the mystery and simply live within it, awake to its wonder.
“Dekhat tav rachanā vichitra Hari, samujhi manahī mana rahiye.”
Witnessing Your wondrous creation, O Lord, I understand within my heart and remain silent.
Terms
- Kesava/Keshava (केसव): Lord Krishna, literally “one with beautiful hair”
- Hari (हरि): Lord Vishnu, the remover of sorrows
- Sūnya (सून्य): Void, emptiness, the formless absolute
- Maya (माया): Cosmic illusion, the creative power of the Divine
- Rabikara-nīra (रबिकर-नीर): Mirage, literally “sun-ray water”
- Makara (मकर): Crocodile, symbolizing Time/Death (Kala)
- Charāchara (चराचर): All of creation, literally “moving and unmoving”
- Bhrama (भ्रम): Illusion, delusion, false perception
- Leela (लीला): Divine play, the spontaneous creative activity of God
श्री राम जय राम जय जय राम
