கோடி விடாத நாடி விடக் கூடிய முக்திக் கோமளமே
ஆடி யடாத தேவடியா ளம்மை யவள்வெடி யுப்பிதுவே
வாடி வடாத மாமலரே மாய மிலாத மாமணியே
காடியிலாத காடியினாள் காமினி ககனக் கனகமதே
Kōḍi viḍātha nāḍi viḍak kūḍiya mukthik kōmaḷamē
Āḍi yaḍātha thēvaḍiyā ḷammai yavaḷveḍi yuppithuvē
Vāḍi vaḍātha māmalārē māya milātha māmaṇiyē
Kāḍiyilātha kāḍiyināḷ kāmini kakanak kanakamathē
O tender one of liberation, who can make the nāḍi that does not let go even for crores (countless times) let go!
O Mother—she who dances and yet does not dance, the woman at the feet of the Deva—this is that very bursting/upsurge of hers.
O great flower that neither withers nor fades! O great jewel in whom there is no māyā!
By a “kāḍi” (solvent/agent) that has no kāḍi (corrosiveness/impurity), O kāminī (woman/desire), you are the gold of the sky (ether-gold) indeed.
You are the gentle power of mokṣa who can loosen what refuses to loosen for innumerable births: the binding currents (nāḍi) and their knots.
As the Mother who is wholly surrendered at the divine feet, you are both movement and stillness; your awakening is felt as a sudden upsurge—an explosive rising.
Unwithering flower, un-deluding gem: you stand beyond māyā.
You transmute without harm: like an alchemical solvent that purifies yet does not corrode, you turn kāminī (ordinary desire/the feminine principle) into “gaganakanakam”—a subtle gold shining in the inner sky of consciousness.
The verse is framed as direct address to a feminine divinity—often readable in Siddhar idiom as Śakti/Kundalinī, or as the Guru’s grace appearing in feminine form. The first line centers on “nāḍi,” a word that can mean (1) yogic channels carrying prāṇa, (2) the pulse examined in Siddha medicine, and (3) “seeking/inclination.” In all three senses, what “does not let go” points to deep karmic and psycho-physiological fixation: entrenched patterns that persist across “kōṭi” (crores) of cycles/births. Liberation is presented not as an abstract idea but as a concrete untying/releasing in the subtle body.
The second line’s paradox—“dances and yet does not dance”—is a classical Siddhar strategy: it keeps both the tantric image (Śakti as dynamic power, the dance of manifestation) and the nondual claim (the Real is unmoving, prior to action) simultaneously true. “Devadiyāḷ” can be heard as “she at the feet (aḍi) of the Deva,” i.e., radical surrender; yet the same word also carries social meanings (devadāsī), allowing a deliberate edge: the sacred feminine appears in forms that the moral mind may misread. The phrase about “bursting/upsurge” (veḍi–uppi…) naturally supports a yogic reading: Kundalinī’s rise is sometimes described as sudden, forceful, even “explosive,” producing a turning in breath, pulse, and awareness.
The third line stabilizes the praise: unwithering flower and jewel without māyā suggest an immortal principle (deathless awareness) that is not subject to decay or delusion. In Siddhar poetics, “flower” can also hint at the crown-lotus (sahasrāra) that does not “wither” once realized.
The fourth line introduces a distinctly alchemical/iatrochemical register. “Kāḍi” in Siddha contexts can denote a sharp dissolving agent (acid/alkali, purifying liquor) used to process metals; such agents remove impurity but can also be corrosive. Calling it “kāḍi without kāḍi” suggests a paradoxical purifier: a solvent that dissolves bondage/impurity without damaging the essential substance—analogous to wisdom/grace dissolving ego without destroying awareness. “Gaganakanakam” (sky-gold/ether-gold) points to subtle, non-material “gold”: the radiance in the inner space (ākāśa), the refined bindu/tejas, or the perfected consciousness compared to incorruptible gold. “Kāminī” can mean a woman/beloved, but also stands for desire itself; the line then hints at transformation of desire into luminosity rather than mere suppression—an important Siddhar-tantric nuance.