मेरे तो गिरधर गोपाल दूसरो न कोई।
जाके सिर है मोरपखा मेरो पति सोई॥
तात मात भ्रात बंधु आपनो न कोई।
छाँड़ि दई कुल की कानि कहा करिहै कोई॥
संतन ढिग बैठि बैठि लोकलाज खोई।
चुनरी के किये टूक ओढ़ लीन्हीं लोई।
मोती मूँगे उतार बनमाला पोई॥
अँसुवन जल सींचि-सींचि प्रेम-बेलि बोई।
अब तो बेल फैल गई आणँद फल होई॥
दूध की मथनियाँ बड़े प्रेम से बिलोई।
माखन जब काढ़ि लियो छाछ पिये कोई॥
भगति देखि राजी हुई जगत देखि रोई।
दासी मीरा लाल गिरधर तारो अब मोही॥
Mere to Giridhar Gopal dusro na koi,
jake sir hai morpakha mero pati soi.
Tat mat bhrat bandhu apno na koi,
chhandi dai kul ki kani kaha karihai koi,
santan dhig baithi baithi loklaj khoi.
Chunari ke kiye tuk odh linhin loi,
moti munge utar banmala poi.
Ansuvan jal sinchi-sinchi prem-beli boi,
ab to bel phail gai anand phal hoi.
Dudh ki mathaniyan bade prem se biloi,
makhan jab kadhi liyo chhachh piye koi.
Bhagati dekhi raji hui jagat dekhi roi,
dasi Mira Lal Giridhar taro ab mohi.
Meaning
For me there is Giridhar Gopal, and no one else. He who wears the peacock feather on his head is my husband.
Father, mother, brother, kin: none is my own. I have given up the family’s honour; what can anyone do to me? Sitting again and again with the saints, I have lost all worldly shame.
I tore my fine scarf to pieces and wrapped myself in a coarse blanket. I took off pearls and coral and strung a garland of forest flowers.
Watering it again and again with my tears, I sowed the vine of love. Now the vine has spread and bears the fruit of bliss.
With great love I churned the milk; I have taken out the butter, let whoever wants drink the buttermilk.
Seeing devotion I was glad; seeing the world I wept. Mira, your servant, prays: dear Giridhar, carry me across now.
About this bhajan
The line “mere to Giridhar Gopal dusro na koi” is Meera’s whole life in eight words. The princess of Merta, married into the house of Mewar, gives up the silk chunari for a coarse loi and pearls for a forest garland, and sits among sadhus while her in-laws protest. The image of churning milk is pointed: she has taken the butter of life, and the world may keep the buttermilk. The pada is sung everywhere, and Kavita Kosh records it in raga Jhinjhoti.
Meera padavali; text as on Kavita Kosh
