Juna Akhara Haridwarजूना अखाड़ा हरिद्वार

He has the face of an elephant. Shiva’s ganas wait on Him. He loves to eat wood-apple and jamun.

He is the son of Uma. He takes away sorrow. I bow to the lotus feet of Vighneshwar, the Lord who removes every obstacle.

Your trunk is long and grand. Your eyes are wide. Your earrings sparkle and shine.

Kumkum, kesar and chandan, and Your face bright with sindoor. I bow to that face.

Hari Om! Victory to Gauri’s son!

A beautiful crown shines on Your head, shines on Your head.

Armbands on Your arms, bracelets on Your wrists. We cannot stop looking at You.

Hari Om! Victory to Gauri’s son!

On a throne set with jewels sits Ganpati, full of Bliss, Ganpati full of Bliss.

A mala of pearls around Your neck, the Vaijayanti mala around Your neck. Devas, humans and munis all bow to You.

Hari Om! Victory to Gauri’s son!

Riding on Your mouse, You shine. Shiva’s son, full of Bliss, Shiva’s son full of Bliss.

Shivanand Swami sings: chant this, and Hari-Hara, the Lord, cuts the trap of sansar, this world of birth and death.

Hari Om! Victory to Gauri’s son!

White as camphor, He is compassion in a body. He is the essence of this whole world. The king of snakes is His garland.

He lives always in the lotus of the heart. I bow to Bhava, Shiva, together with Bhavani, His Shakti.

To Her, with mandar flowers in Her hair. To Shiva Shankar, with His mala of skulls.

To Her, dressed in heavenly cloth. To Him, dressed only in the sky. I bow to Shivā, and I bow to Shiva.

To Him who wakes us into unbroken Bliss, who takes away our grief and our burning pain.

His very nature is Sat-Chit-Anand: Being, Awareness, Bliss. To Shiva, the all-auspicious, I bow again and again.

The king of snakes is His garland. He has three eyes. His body is covered in bhasm, sacred ash. He is Maheshwar, the Great Lord.

He is divine, He is the shining Dev, and He wears only the sky. To that Shiva, who is the sound ‘Na’, I bow.

He wears an elephant’s skin as His robe and His ornament. All the devas worship Him.

He is Lord of the three worlds. He burned Tripura, the three cities of the demons. To that Shiva, who is the sound ‘Ma’, I bow.

He makes Parvati’s lotus face open like a flower. He smashed the yagna of Daksha.

His three eyes are the moon, the sun and fire. To that Shiva, who is the sound ‘Shi’, I bow.

Vasishtha, Agastya and Gautam honour Him. The greatest munis bow to Him. He is Girishwar, Lord of the mountain.

His throat is blue. The bull is on His flag. To that Shiva, who is the sound ‘Va’, I bow.

He is the yagna itself. His hair is in jata, matted locks. He holds the bow Pinak. He is older than time.

He is eternal and pure, and nothing can stain Him. To that Shiva, who is the sound ‘Ya’, I bow.

Whoever says this five-syllable stotra in front of Shiva

goes to Shivlok, Shiva’s world, and lives there in joy with Shiva.

Shiva, Hara, Shankar, Lord of Gauri. I bow to the Lord who holds the Ganga in His hair.

Shiva-Rudra, Pashupati, Lord of all living beings, the Ruler. I hold the Lord of Kashi in my heart.

Worship Him! His third eye is on His forehead. He is the highest Bliss. Shri Nilkanth, blue-throated Lord, You are my shelter.

Shiva, You destroy the asuras. You break the pain of sansar. You protect those who serve You.

Oh Bhole Shankar, simple-hearted Lord, end my coming and going, birth after birth. Sing of Shiva again and again.

Om. Shiva, Hara, Shambhu, Sadashiva, always with the Mother. Hari-Hara, forever Sadashiva with the Mother.

I bow to the Dev who is Uma’s husband and the Guru of the devas. I bow to Him, the cause of the whole world.

I bow to Him who wears snakes as His ornaments and holds a deer in His hand. I bow to Pashupati, Lord of all living beings.

I bow to Him whose three eyes are the sun, the moon and fire. I bow to Him whom Mukund, Vishnu, loves.

I bow to Him who shelters His bhaktas and gives them what they ask. I bow to Shiva, Shankar, who brings all good.

Oh my tongue, sing of Vishwanath! Sing of Badri and Kedar, and of Bhasmeshwar, Lord of the bhasm.

Sing of Bhimashankar, Baijnath, Mamleshwar, Nageshwar and Rameshwar.

Remember Mamleshwar at Omkareshwar. Remember Hari-Hara, Mahakal and Mallikarjun.

In your heart, meditate on Tryambak and Somnath. These are the eleven. Om, I bow.

The Dev who wears the crescent moon, who wears hooded snakes, who carries the skull of Brahma.

Gauri sits at His left side. He has three eyes. A rudraksh mala hangs at His neck.

The waves of the Ganga dance in His thick, reddish-brown jata. He is Shri Gangadhar, who holds the Ganga.

On the blue peak, worship Him: Vishwanath, Somesh, Lord of the moon, surrounded by siddhas, who keeps us safe.

Ganga, Sindhu, Saraswati and Yamuna, Godavari, Narmada,

Kaveri, Sarayu, Mahendra-tanaya, Charmanvati, Vedika,

Kshipra, Vipravati, the great river of the devas, and the famous Gandaki —

may all these rivers, full to the brim, together with the ocean, bring us every blessing.

His form is shanti, peace. He rests on the mountain peak. Snakes are His mala. He is Maheshwar, the Great Lord.

He holds up the whole universe. He wears only the sky. His colour is clear and bright. His whole body is shubh, auspicious.

He is Gauri’s beloved. He has three eyes. Yogis reach Him through dhyan, meditation.

I bow to Shambhu. He takes away the fear of sansar. He is the one Lord of all the worlds.

His form is shanti, peace. He rests on Shesh Nag, the great serpent. A lotus grows from His navel. He is the Lord of the devas.

He holds up the whole universe. He is as vast as the sky. His colour is the dark blue of a rain cloud. His whole body is shubh, auspicious.

He is Lakshmi’s beloved. His eyes are like lotus petals. Yogis reach Him through dhyan, meditation.

I bow to Vishnu. He takes away the fear of sansar. He is the one Lord of all the worlds.

Say the ink were a black mountain and the ocean its inkpot. Say the pen were a branch of the Kalpavriksh, the wish-fulfilling tree, and the whole earth the page.

Say Sharada, Saraswati Herself, took them up and wrote for all time, never stopping. Even then, Oh Lord, she could not reach the end of Your greatness.

Whatever wrong I have done with my hands or my feet, with my speech, my body or my karma, with my ears or my eyes, or in my mind,

whether the rules allowed it or not, please forgive all of it. Jai, jai to You, ocean of compassion, Shri Mahadev, Shambhu!

The Guru is Brahma. The Guru is Vishnu. The Guru is Lord Maheshwar.

The Guru is Parabrahman, the Highest, standing right in front of us. To that Shri Guru, I bow.

The root of dhyan, meditation, is the Guru’s form. The root of puja is the Guru’s feet.

The root of mantra is the Guru’s word. The root of moksha is the Guru’s kripa, His Grace.

One unbroken whole, filling everything that moves and everything that stands still.

The Guru showed me That. To that Shri Guru, I bow.

Rain falls from the sky, and in the end it reaches the ocean.

In the same way, when you bow to any dev, your namaskar reaches Keshav.

Call on Keshav to end your troubles. Call on Madhav to end your sorrow.

Shri Hari destroys paap, sin. Govind gives moksha.

The mantra is Satya, Truth. Puja is Truth. God, without any stain, is Truth.

The Guru’s word is always Truth. Truth alone is the highest goal.

I have no other shelter. You alone are my shelter.

So, out of karuna, compassion, protect me, protect me, Oh Maheshwar.

Take darshan of Shiva in the morning, and the sins of the night are gone.

Take darshan at noon, and the sins of this whole life are gone. Take darshan in the evening, and the sins of seven lifetimes are gone.

Give away a mountain of gold as big as Meru, or a hundred crore cows,

or five crore horses. All the punya of those gifts comes from one darshan of Shiva.

You alone are my mother. You alone are my father. You alone are my family. You alone are my friend.

You alone are my vidya, my knowledge. You alone are my wealth. You alone are my everything, Oh God of gods.

In the sky, the Tarak ling. In Patal, the underworld, Batukeshwar.

In the world of the living, Mahakal. I bow to You, present in every ling.

His hair is in jata. His body is pale with bhasm. He holds a trishul. He is a treasure-house of kripa, Grace.

He takes away every disease. I worship that Dev, Dattatreya.

Flowers of many scents, each one blooming in its own season —

with mantra, I offer You this anjali, these handfuls of flowers. Please accept them, Oh Parameshwar, Supreme Lord.