FolioCorpusŚrīmad-Bhāgavatam

Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam 10.4.6

नन्वहं ते ह्यवरजा दीना हतसुता प्रभो । दातुमर्हसि मन्दाया अङ्गेमां चरमां प्रजाम् ॥ ६ ॥
nanv ahaṁ te hy avarajā
[nanv aham te hy avarajaa]
dīnā hata-sutā prabho
[deenaa hata-sutaa prabho]
dātum arhasi mandāyā
[daatum arhasi mandaayaa]
aṅgemāṁ caramāṁ prajām
[angemaam charamaam prajaam]
nanu — however aham — I am te — your hi — indeed avarajā — younger sister dīnā — very poor hata - sutā — deprived of all children prabho — O my lord dātum arhasi — you deserve to give (some gift) mandāyāḥ — to me, who am so poor aṅga — my dear brother imām — this caramām — last prajām — child .
Blended reading (Sanskrit + English inline)
nanv ahaṁ te hy avarajā
nanu
however
aham
I am
te
your
hi
indeed
avarajā
younger sister
dīnā hata-sutā prabho
dīnā
very poor
hata - sutā
deprived of all children
prabho
O my lord
dātum arhasi mandāyā
dātum arhasi
you deserve to give (some gift)
mandāyāḥ
to me, who am so poor
aṅga
my dear brother
imām
this
aṅgemāṁ caramāṁ prajām
caramām
last
prajām
child .
  • avarajā — younger sister
    Literally 'born after'. Devakī invokes the natural protection an elder owes the younger. In dharma, the elder brother is duty-bound to shield the younger; she names that duty to call him back to it.
  • dīnā — poor, miserable, low
    The signature word of bhakti's mood. The Lord is called dīna-bandhu, dīna-vatsala — friend of the wretched, affectionate to the lowly. To say 'dīnā' in earnest is already to call on Bhagavān.
  • hata-sutā — whose sons have been killed
    A compound bristling with grief. The participle hata (killed) is stark; Devakī names her loss without softening. Real prayer does not pretty up its wound; it shows the wound to the Lord.
  • mandāyāḥ — of (me) the unfortunate one
    Genitive, feminine — 'of the slow / luckless one.' She heaps self-effacement on self-effacement. In the Gauḍīya śikṣāṣṭaka mood, this is precisely how Caitanya Mahāprabhu approaches Kṛṣṇa: na dhanaṁ na janaṁ, asking nothing.
  • caramām — the last (one)
    From the root √car — that which comes finally. This is the last child; after her, nothing. The word presses Kaṁsa with the finality of his cruelty: there will be no more after this one.
My lord, my brother, I am very poor, being bereft of all my children, but still I am your younger sister, and therefore it would be worthy of you to give me this last child as a gift.
Viśvanātha Cakravartī Ṭhākura Gauḍīya
Translation
My lord, my brother, I am very poor, being bereft of all my children, but still I am your younger sister, and therefore it would be worthy of you to give me this last child as a gift.
Commentary

"Anga" here means "Oh brother."

Jīva Gosvāmī Gauḍīya
Commentary

She tries to invoke his affection by describing her miserable position and again prays. Certainly (nanu), because (hi) I am your younger sister, suffering from imprisonment, with all my sons killed, you can give what is impossible to give! O lord (prabho)! You should give this last daughter to me, for I am unhappy (mandāyai), deprived of the good fortune of sons. Sometimes the word me (to me) is found instead of imam. Imam means “this small child just born, incapable of doing anything.” It is not necessary to kill her, since she is a girl though eighth born. And this is my last child. It is not possible for me to bear any more children because of old age and fear of you.

Related values
Anahankarah (Freedom from False Ego)Discriminative WisdomVinaya (Humility / Modesty)
Related verses
Even rightful claims of kinship and pity belong to the body; only surrender to Kṛṣṇa secures what no relation can guarantee.
Practical Applications
  • Notice today where you press a personal claim — 'I deserve this because I am your X' — and quietly hand that bargaining over to Kṛṣṇa instead.
  • When grief tempts you to demand an outcome from someone, pause and ask whether you are pleading for the soul's good or for your own bodily comfort.
  • Refuse to let family bonds become the final court of appeal; before sleep, offer one relationship — its hopes and losses — explicitly to Kṛṣṇa.
Reflection Questions
  • Where in my life am I, like Devakī, pleading from a place of bodily attachment — invoking relationship and pity to hold on to a 'last child' I have not yet surrendered to Kṛṣṇa?
  • What does it expose in me that I appeal to others' sentiment ('I am poor, I am your sister') rather than standing in vairāgya and trusting the Lord's arrangement for what is taken and what remains?
For Each Age Group
youth
  • When a friend group turns on you or excludes you, notice the urge to plead 'but I'm one of you' — Devakī's bodily appeal. Practice instead naming the situation honestly to one trusted person and to Kṛṣṇa, without flattery and without collapse.
  • Before posting on social media when you feel wronged, pause and ask: am I appealing to my 'last child' (image, reputation, the one win I have left)? Vairāgya here means not turning private grief into a public bargaining chip.
  • In an exam season or a competitive admissions process, when results feel like life-and-death, sit with BG 2.12 — the soul existed before this exam and will exist after. Tejas is not the loud confidence of toppers; it is the quiet steadiness of one who has already located themselves beyond the result.
householder
  • When negotiating with a difficult relative, employer, or co-parent over something precious — a child's schooling, an inheritance, a custody question — notice when you slip into Devakī's tone of helpless appeal. Speak instead from sva-dharma: clear, humble, factual, dependent on Kṛṣṇa for the outcome.
  • Identify the 'caramāṁ prajām' in your life right now — the one thing you would beg the universe to spare you from losing (a job, a marriage, a child's wellbeing). Each morning, formally offer it back to Kṛṣṇa before you start work, so that you act as caretaker rather than owner.
  • When raising children, distinguish material compassion (shielding them from every discomfort) from real compassion (preparing their souls). Devakī lost six children and still functioned as a devotee — not because she did not grieve, but because her shelter was not her children. Ask yourself this week: where am I sheltering in my child instead of in Kṛṣṇa?
senior
  • Devakī's grief over lost children mirrors what many seniors feel watching peers and family members pass. Use this verse to reframe: each loss is the soul's transit (BG 2.12), not annihilation. Speak this aloud to one peer who is grieving, not as platitude but as conviction.
  • Identify what is now your 'last child' — the final attachment you are quietly clutching (a house, a role, a particular grandchild's affection, a reputation in your community). Begin the practice of mentally placing it in Kṛṣṇa's hands each evening, so that when the time comes to release it physically, the ego has already done the work.
  • Mentor a younger householder this month not by giving advice but by telling one honest story of a loss you survived through shelter in Kṛṣṇa — anāhaṅkāra in action. Legacy in the Vaiṣṇava line is not what you leave them; it is the bhakti-saṁskāra you transmit through lived testimony.
Common Pitfalls
  • Mistaking Devakī's plea as the Gītā's recommended response to loss — and thereby sanctifying our own bargaining and clinging as 'devotional emotion' instead of recognizing it as the residual ahaṅkāra the verse quietly displays.
  • Reading 'give me this last child' as material compassion for a body, missing that real compassion is for the soul — and so spending our days protecting the bodies of those we love while neglecting their spiritual welfare.
  • Using the language of helplessness ('dīnā', 'mandā') as a permanent identity rather than a temporary cry — letting 'I am poor and bereft' become an excuse to never cultivate tejas and stand up in one's sva-dharma.
Discussion Prompts
  • Devakī appeals to Kaṁsa as 'younger sister, bereft of all my children' — pleading from bodily relation rather than from her position as mother of the Lord. Where in your own life do you find yourself bargaining with material relationships for protection, instead of taking shelter in Kṛṣṇa? Push back if a partner says they would do the same in her place.
  • The verse shows real, unhidden grief — not stoic detachment. Yet vairāgya is listed among the related values. Discuss with your partner: is Devakī's plea a failure of vairāgya, or is real vairāgya something other than emotional flatness? Try to actually disagree before you reconcile.
  • Devakī calls herself mandā — wretched, unfortunate. From a modern psychological lens this looks like self-pity or low self-worth; from a Vaiṣṇava lens, anāhaṅkāra (freedom from false ego) involves a kind of dīna-bhāva (humble destitution). Where is the line between healthy humility and corrosive self-deprecation? Bring a concrete example from work or family.
Role Play

Two students are paired. Student A plays a family member who has just been told by Student B (playing themselves) that a serious wrong has been done to them — a betrayal at work, a broken promise from a sibling, the loss of something precious. Student B must respond first 'as Devakī' — appealing to the wrongdoer through bodily/sentimental relationship ('I am your sister, please be kind'), and then a second time taking shelter in Kṛṣṇa — neither suppressing grief nor flattering the offender, but speaking from anāhaṅkāra and tejas. After both rounds, the pair discusses: which response felt more honest? Which actually protected the soul, not just the body? The teacher then asks the room: when is appealing to bodily relation appropriate, and when does it amount to forgetting Kṛṣṇa?

Objections & Responses
  • Devakī sounds pathetic here — flattering the very man who murdered her babies. This is exactly the kind of feminine submissiveness modern readers find distasteful. Why hold this up as scripture?
    Read carefully — Devakī is not flattering Kaṁsa, she is buying time for the Lord's pastime to unfold. Śrīla Prabhupāda explains that great devotees act on the surface within the rules of bodily relation while internally dependent on Kṛṣṇa alone. Her dīna-bhāva is not weakness; it is the strategic humility of a devotee who knows the Lord, not the demon, decides outcomes. The Gītā (BG 5.18) teaches the paṇḍita sees with equal vision — Devakī's appeal is not capitulation, it is sva-dharma in an impossible moment. We confuse loud assertion with strength because our culture has lost the category of tejas that operates through humility.
  • If Kṛṣṇa is the Supreme Personality of Godhead and is right there in the womb, why does Devakī need to plead at all? The whole scene seems theatrical — manufactured suffering.
    Yes, it is līlā — but līlā is not fake. Kṛṣṇa allows His own dear devotees to enter situations of helplessness so that the world can witness what surrender looks like under pressure. If He simply annihilated Kaṁsa in act one, we would have a power-display, not a teaching. Devakī's plea instructs us: when you cannot see the Lord's hand, still act with dharma, still speak truthfully, still take shelter. The 'theater' is for our benefit, not His. This is also why we do not invent pastimes — the ones given are precisely calibrated to teach.

A beggar at the king's gate names her destitution not to shame the king but to make the gift possible. Devakī empties herself — younger sister, bereft, of small worth — so that the cruelty before her may, by contrast, become generosity. The Vaiṣṇavī's way is dīnatā: to grow small so Bhagavān's mercy may grow large.

Sudāmā at Kṛṣṇa's palace

When the poor brāhmaṇa Sudāmā arrived at Dvārakā, he carried only a torn cloth tied around a handful of flat rice. He did not list his needs; he simply stood before his old friend, embarrassed by his poverty. Kṛṣṇa snatched the cloth, ate the rice, and silently filled Sudāmā's home with opulence beyond imagining (SB 10.80–81).

The pattern is the same: when the devotee accepts and even displays his own dīnatā, the Lord's mercy has room to enter. Devakī here calls herself avarajā — the younger one, the lesser — not to flatter Kaṁsa but in the bhāva of complete dependence. The Gauḍīya tradition holds this dīna-bhāva as the very entrance-fee of bhakti.

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