Pilgrim spots.

The Night at Puri – A Story of Tulasidas and Jagannath

Long ago, the saint-poet Tulasidas, the composer of Ramcharitmanas, undertook a pilgrimage to visit various holy places across Bharat. One such sacred stop was Jagannath Puri, where the Lord is worshipped in a most unusual and awe-inspiring form — dark as rainclouds, with large, rounded eyes, and wooden limbs carved in mystery.

Tulasidas entered the great temple with reverence, but when he beheld the form of Lord Jagannath, flanked by Balabhadra and Subhadra, he was taken aback.

His heart, ever immersed in the sweet, human-like beauty of Sri Rama, faltered.

"How can this be the same Lord? Where are His lotus-like limbs? Where is the graceful bow-bearing form? This form... this is beyond my heart's comprehension."

Disturbed and confused, Tulasidas quickly averted his eyes, stepped back in silence, and decided to leave Puri at daybreak, without offering further worship.

That night, in the stillness before dawn, the Lord appeared in his dream.

Radiant, smiling, and ever-compassionate, Lord Jagannath spoke gently:

"Tulasidas, why do you turn away from Me? What is it that troubles you? Did you not yourself write:

‘Bin pag chale, sunat bin kana...’

That I walk without feet, hear without ears, speak without a mouth? If I am beyond form, then is this not also My form?

If this verse is true, then let Me be.

And if not, then strike it out of your Ramcharitmanas."

Tulasidas awoke startled and overcome. The words of the Lord rang deep in his heart. He wept, ashamed of his earlier reaction.

As the morning sun rose and bathed the temple in golden light, Tulasidas went once more to the sanctum. This time, he looked fully and openly at Lord Jagannath. And lo! Before his eyes, the wooden form melted away into a dazzling vision — there stood Sri Rama, with Lakshmana and Sita, and Hanuman bowing before Him.

In that moment, Tulasidas realized the truth of the Lord’s many forms — that God is not limited to any one appearance, but flows through all of them — whether in majestic Vishnu form, or the sweet, humble Rama, or the mysterious Jagannath.

He bowed his head in surrender and whispered,

"You are beyond the grasp of the mind and the eye. Yet You let Yourself be seen by the heart that loves."

From that day, Tulasidas held the Lord of Nilachala in his heart as lovingly as the Lord of Ayodhya.

"बिनु पग चलइ सुनइ बिनु काना।

कर्ण बिहीन बिनु बानी बखाना॥

अणिमादिक सिद्धि नव निधान।

जानत हरि भक्ति सुभ जान॥"

Binu pag chalai, sunai binu kaana,

Karna biheen, binu bani bakhaana.

Animaadik siddhi nava nidhaana,

Jaanat Hari bhakti subh jaana.

"He walks without feet, hears without ears,

Speaks eloquently without a mouth or speech.

He knows all the eight Siddhis (spiritual perfections) and the nine Nidhis (types of wealth),

And understands devotion to Lord Hari (Rama) very well."

This verse is part of Hanuman's glorification by Lord Rama and the narrator in Sundara Kanda, recognizing Hanuman’s supernatural powers. These lines poetically express that Hanuman’s strength is not limited by physical constraints — he operates purely through the power of devotion (bhakti) and divine grace.

“Bin pag chale” – he moves without feet (he flies or transcends material movement).

“Sunat bin kana” – hears without ears (inner divine perception).

“Binu bani bakhana” – speaks without a mouth (through divine inspiration).

“Animaadi siddhi” – refers to the eight yogic perfections (like becoming minute, light, vast, etc.).

“Nava nidhaan” – the nine treasures associated with Kubera.

He possesses all these, but more importantly, he knows the essence of devotion to Lord Rama.

Tulasidas and the Lord of Puri – A Poem 

In holy Bharat’s sacred land,

Walked Tulasidas, with pen in hand.

He sang of Rama, kind and true,

With Lakshman, Sita, in golden hue.

He journeyed far to pilgrim spots,

To see the Lord in varied thoughts.

One day he came by ocean's shore,

To Jagannath Puri’s temple door.

The drums were loud, the lamps did shine,

Devotees chanted hymns divine.

He entered in with folded hands,

Amid the seashells, bells, and sands.

But when he saw the Lord that day,

He paused... then turned his eyes away.

"O Lord," he sighed, "I cannot see,

Your form feels strange and odd to me."

"No gentle eyes, no graceful smile,

No bow in hand, no princely style.

What form is this? It pains my sight...

I’ll leave this place at morning light."

That night, as stars began to gleam,

The Lord appeared within his dream.

He smiled and spoke in tender grace,

With kindness lighting up His face:

> “O child of love, O poet-sage,

Why close your eyes? Why turn the page?

You wrote these lines with heart so wide —

‘I walk without feet, hear though ear’s denied.’

If that be true, then here I stand —

With wooden limbs, yet same command.

If false your verse, then strike it out.

But if it's true — why this doubt?”

Tulasidas awoke with tears,

His pride dissolved, his soul in cheers.

He ran back to the Lord next day,

And saw Him in a newer way.

The wooden face, so broad and round,

Now shimmered with a golden crown.

He saw not logs, but Rama there —

With Lakshman’s bow and Sita fair!

The Lord had taught him with a smile,

That God takes forms in every style.

From stone or wood, or sound or flame,

It’s love and faith that call His name.

God may appear in many ways — through form, formlessness, or play.

It’s not the shape, but love and trust, that truly help us see His face.