Chapter 8

The results of this new approach are apparent in two distinct ways. The _Bhagavata Purana_ continues to be the chief chronicle of Krishna's acts but the last half of Book Ten and all of Book Eleven fall into neglect.[49] In their place, the story of Krishna's relations with the cowgirls is given new poignancy and precision. Radha is constantly mentioned and in all the incidents in the _Purana_ involving cowgirls, it is she who is given pride of place. At the river Jumna, when Krishna removes the cowgirls' clothes, Radha begs him to restore them. At the circular dance in which he joins with all the cowgirls, Radha receives his first attentions, dancing with him in the centre. When Krishna is about to leave for Mathura, it is Radha who heads the cowgirls and strives to detain him. She serves, in fact, as a symbol of all the cowgirls' love. At the same time, she is very far from being merely their spokesman or leader and while the later texts dwell constantly on her rapturous love-making with Krishna, they also describe her jealousy when Krishna makes love to other girls. Indeed the essence of their romance is that it includes a temporary estrangement and only after Krishna has neglected Radha, flirted with other cowgirls and then returned to her is their understanding complete.

The second result is the allegorical interpretation which Krishna's romances now received. In Christian literature, the longing of the soul for God was occasionally expressed in terms of sexual imagery--the works of the Spanish mystic, St. John of the Cross, including 'songs of the soul in rapture at having arrived at the height of perfection which is union with God.'

Oh night that was my guide! Oh darkness dearer than the morning's pride, Oh night that joined the lover To the beloved bride Transfiguring them each into the other.

Within my flowering breast Which only for himself entire I save He sank into his rest And all my gifts I gave Lulled by the airs with which the cedars wave.[50]

This same approach was now to clarify Radha's romance with Krishna. Radha, it was held, was the soul while Krishna was God. Radha's sexual passion for Krishna symbolized the soul's intense longing and her willingness to commit adultery expressed the utter priority which must be accorded to love for God. If ultimate union was symbolized by romantic love, then clearly nothing could approach such love in ultimate significance. In deserting their husbands and homes and wilfully committing adultery, Radha and the cowgirls were therefore illustrating a profound religious truth. Not only was their adultery proof of Krishna's charm, it was vital to the whole story. By worldly standards, they were committing the gravest of offences but they were doing it for Krishna who was God himself. They were therefore setting God above home and duty, they were leaving everything for love of God and in surrendering their honour, were providing the most potent symbol of what devotion meant. This approach explained other details. Krishna's flute was the call of God which caused the souls of men, the cowgirls, to forsake their worldly attachments and rush to love him. In removing the clothes of the cowgirls and requiring them to come before him naked, he was demonstrating the innocent purity with which the soul should wait on God. In himself neglecting Radha and toying with the cowgirls, he was proving, on one level, the power of worldly pleasures to seduce the soul but on another level, the power of God to love every soul irrespective of its character and status. From this point of view, the cowgirls were as much the souls of men as Radha herself and to demonstrate God's all-pervasive love, Krishna must therefore love not only Radha but every cowgirl. Equally, in the circular dance, by inducing every cowgirl to think that she and she alone was his partner, Krishna was proving how God is available to all. Finally it was realized that even those portions of the story which, at first sight, seemed cruel and callous were also susceptible of religious interpretation. When Radha has been loved in the forest and then is suddenly deserted, the reason is her pride--pride that because Krishna has loved her, she can assert herself by asking to be carried. Such assertiveness is incompatible with the kind of humble adoration necessary for communion with God. To prove this, therefore, Radha's pride must be destroyed and Krishna resorts to this seemingly brusque desertion. Action, in fact, which by human standards would be reprehensible is once again a means for imparting spiritual wisdom. In a similar way, Krishna's departure for Mathura and final abandonment of the cowgirls was accorded a religious interpretation. At one level, his departure symbolized 'the dark night of the soul,' the experience which comes to every devotee when, despite the most ardent longing, the vision fades. At another level, it illustrated how life must be lived when God or Vishnu was no longer on earth. If Krishna's love-making was intended to symbolize the ultimate rapture, his physical absence corresponded to conditions as they normally existed. In instructing the cowgirls to meditate upon him in their minds, Krishna was only attuning them to life as it must necessarily appear after he has left the human stage.

It was these conceptions which governed the cult of Krishna from the twelfth century onwards and, as we shall shortly see, informed the poems which were now to celebrate his love for Radha.

[Footnote 46: Note 15.]

[Footnote 47: Note 16.]

[Footnote 48: Note 17.]

[Footnote 49: I.e. the whole of Krishna's career after his destruction of the tyrant.]

[Footnote 50: Roy Campbell, _The Poems of St. John of the Cross_ (London, 1951), 11-12.]

(ii) The Gita Govinda

The first poem to express this changed conception is the _Gita Govinda_--the Song of the Cowherd--a Sanskrit poem written by the Bengali poet, Jayadeva, towards the close of the twelfth century. Its subject is the estrangement of Radha and Krishna caused by Krishna's love for other cowgirls, Radha's anguish at Krishna's neglect and lastly the rapture which attends their final reunion. Jayadeva describes Radha's longing and Krishna's love-making with glowing sensuality yet the poem reverts continually to praise of Krishna as God.

If in recalling Krishna to mind there is flavour Or if there is interest in love's art Then to this necklace of words--sweetness, tenderness, brightness-- The words of Jayadeva, listen.

He aims, in fact, at inducing 'recollection of Krishna in the minds of the good' and adds a description of the forest in springtime solely, he says, in order once again to recall Krishna.[51] When, at last, the poem has come triumphantly to its close, Jayadeva again exhorts people to adore Krishna and 'place him for ever in their hearts, Krishna the source of all merit.'

The poem begins with a preface of four lines describing how Krishna's romance with Radha first began. The sky, it says, was dark with clouds. All around lay the vast forest. Night was coming up and Nanda who had taken the youthful Krishna with him is alarmed lest in the gathering gloom the boy should get lost. Radha, who is somewhat older, is with them, so Nanda desires her to take Krishna home. Radha leads him away but as they wander by the river, passion mounts in their hearts. They forget that Nanda has told them to hurry home. Radha ignores the motherly character of her mission and loitering in the trees, the two commence their dalliance.[52] In this way the love of Radha and Krishna arises--the love which is to dominate their hearts with ever-growing fervour.

The poem then leaps a period of time and when the drama opens, a crisis has occurred. Radha, after long enjoying Krishna's passionate embraces, finds herself abruptly neglected. Charming but faithless, Krishna is now pursuing other girls and the jilted Radha wanders alone. Meanwhile spring has come to the forest and the thought that others are enjoying Krishna's love tortures her to the point of madness. As she broods on her lost joys, a friend describes to her what is happening.[53]

Sandal and garment of yellow and lotus garlands upon his body of blue, In his dance the jewels of his ears in movement dangling over his smiling cheeks, Krishna here disports himself with charming women given to love.

He embraces one woman, he kisses another, and fondles another beautiful one. He looks at another one lovely with smiles, and starts in pursuit of another woman. Krishna here disports himself with charming women given to love.[54]

Suddenly Radha sees Krishna[55] and going into the midst of the cowgirls, she kisses him violently and clasps him to her; but Krishna is so inflamed by the other girls that he abandons her in a thicket.

As Radha broods on his behaviour, she is filled with bitter sadness.[56] Yet her love is still so strong that she cannot bring herself to blame him and instead calls to mind his charm.

I remember Krishna, the jests he made, who placed his sport in the pastoral dance, The sweet of whose nectar of lips kept flowing with notes of his luring melodious flute, With the play of whose eyes and the toss of whose head the earrings kept dangling upon his cheeks.

I remember Krishna, the jests he made, who placed his sport in the pastoral dance, Whose brow had a perfect sandal spot, as among dark clouds the disc of the moon, Whose door-like heart was without pity when crushing the bosoms of swelling breasts.

Desire even now in my foolish mind for Krishna, For Krishna--without me--lusting still for the herd-girls. Seeing only the good in his nature, what shall I do? Agitated I feel no anger. Pleased without cause, I acquit him.

And she continues:

O make him enjoy me, my friend, that Krishna so fickle, I who am shy like a girl on her way to the first of her trysts of love, He who is charming with flattering words, I who am tender In speech and smiling, he on whose hip the garment lies loosely worn.

O make him enjoy me, my friend, that Krishna so fickle, Me who sweated and moistened all over my body with love's exertion, That Krishna whose cheeks were lovely with down all standing on end as he thrilled, Whose half-closed eyes were languid, and restless with brimming desire.

O make him enjoy me, my friend, that Krishna so fickle, Me whose masses of curls were like loose-slipping flowers, whose amorous words Were vague as of doves, that Krishna whose bosom is marked With scratches, surpassing all in his love that the science of love could teach.

O make him enjoy me, my friend, that Krishna so fickle, To whose act of desire accomplished the anklets upon my feet bejewelled Vibrated sounding, who gave his kisses seizing the hair of the head, And to whom in his passionate love my girdle sounded in eloquence sweet.

As Radha sits longing for him in lonely sadness, Krishna suddenly repents, is filled with remorse and abruptly goes in quest of her. He does not know, however, where to find her and as he wanders, he expresses his sorrow.

Radha so deeply wronged, troubled to see me surrounded by women, She went, and I, in fear of my guilt, made no attempt to stop her, Alas, alas, she is gone in anger, her love destroyed.

O my slender one, I imagine your heart is dejected, I cannot console you kneeling in homage, I know not where to find you. If you pardon me now I shall never repeat this neglect of you ever-- O beautiful, give me your pleasure again. I burn with desire.

As Krishna searches unavailingly, Radha's friend lights upon him and conveys news of her love-tormented state.

Armour she makes of tender lotus garlands to hide her bosom from you, Large garlands, as if to protect you from heavy showers of shafts from the god of love. She fears an attack of Love upon you, and lies away hidden; She wastes away, Krishna, parted from you.

As he hears this, Krishna is torn with longing. He does not, however, go immediately to Radha but instead asks the friend to bring Radha to him. The girl departs, meets Radha and gives her Krishna's message. She then describes Krishna's love-lorn state:

When he hears the noise of swarms of bees, he covers his ears from their humming; Pain he feels, night after night, of a heart in love that is parted. He droops, separated from you, O friend, the wearer of garlands.

The girl assures Radha that Krishna is contrite and urges her to delay no longer.

He has gone into the trysting place, full of all desired bliss, O you with lovely hips delay no more O go forth now and seek him out, him the master of your heart, him endowed with passion's lovely form.

On fallen feathers of the birds, on leaves about the forest floor, he lies excited making there his bed, And he gazes out upon the path, looks about with trembling eyes, anxious, looking out for your approach.

There on that bed of tender leaves, O lotus-eyed, embrace his hips, his naked hips from whence the girdle drops, Those hips from whence the garment falls, those loins which are a treasure heap, the fountain and the source of all delight.

Radha would willingly go but she is now so sick with love that she can no longer move. The girl has, therefore, to go once more to Krishna and describe Radha's state.

In secret on every side she sees you Drinking the honied sweet of her lips. Where Radha stays now she wilts away, She may live no longer without your skill, Again and again she keeps telling her friend, 'O why must Krishna delay to come?'

Of her jewels abundant her limbs she adorns and spreads out her bed-- Imagining you on her fluttering couch of leaves-- And so to indulge, in a hundred ways, in the sport of love She is fully resolved, arranging her bed with every adornment; Not another night may that beautiful girl endure without you. Why so much apathy, Krishna, beside the fig tree? O brother, why not go to the pasture of eyes, the abode of bliss?

Despite this message, however, Krishna still delays and Radha, who has half expected him, endures still greater anguish.

My lover has failed to come to the trysting place, It is perhaps that his mind is dazed, or perhaps that he went to another woman Or lured perhaps by festive folk, that he delays, Or perhaps along the dark fringe of the forest he wanders lost.

She imagines him toying with another cowgirl.

A certain girl, excelling in her charms unrivalled, dallies with the sportive Krishna Her face, a moon, is fondled by the fluttering petals in her hair, The exciting moisture of his lips induces langour in her limbs, Her earrings bruise her cheeks while dancing with the motion of her head, Her girdle by the tremor of her moving hips is made to tinkle, She utters senseless sounds, through fever of her love, He decorates with crimson flowers her curly tresses, curls which are upon her lively face a mass of clouds, Flowers with crimson flashings lovely in the forest of her tresses, haunt of that wild creature love's desire.

And thinking of her own hapless state, Radha contrasts it bitterly with that of the fortunate girl.

She who with the wearer of the garland lies in dalliance. With him whose lovely mouth is like a lotus that is opening, With him whose words are nectar in their sweetness and their tenderness, With him who wears a garment streaked with gold, all white and beautiful Not made to sigh is she, my friend, derided by her girls!

Next morning Radha is standing with her girls when Krishna tries to approach her. Now, however, he has come too late. Radha has suffered too greatly. Her patience is at an end and although Krishna implores her to forgive him, she rounds on him in anger, ordering him to return to the other girl whom he has just left.[57]

Your mouth, O Krishna, darkened, enhances the crimson beauty of your lovely body, Enhances with a, darkness, a blackness that arises from the kissing of eyes coloured with black unguent. Go, Krishna, go. Desist from uttering these deceitful words. Follow her, you lotus-eyed, she who can dispel your trouble, go to her.

I who follow you devoted--how can you deceive me, so tortured by love's fever as I am? O Krishna, like the look of you, your body which appears so black, that heart of yours a blackness shall assume. Follow her, you lotus-eyed, she who can dispel your trouble, go to her.

Faced with these reproaches, Krishna slinks away. Radha's friend knows, however, that despite her bitter anger, Radha desires nothing more than his love. She attempts, therefore, to instil in her a calmer frame of mind, urging her to end her pride and take Krishna back. She goes to look for Krishna and while she is absent, Krishna returns. Standing before Radha, he implores her once again to end her anger.

If you speak but a little the moon-like gleam of your teeth will destroy the darkness frightful, so very terrible, come over me; Your moon of a face which glitters upon my eye, the moon-bird's eye, now makes me long for the sweet of your lips. O loved one, O beautiful, give up that baseless pride against me, My heart is burnt by the fire of longing; give me that drink so sweet of your lotus face. O you with beautiful teeth, if you are in anger against me, strike me then with your finger nails, sharp and like arrows, Bind me, entwining, with the cords of your arms, and bite me then with your teeth, and feel happy punishing. O loved one, O beautiful, give up that baseless pride against me.

At these words, Radha's anger leaves her; and when Krishna withdraws, it is to go to the forest and await her coming. Radha's joy returns. She decks herself in the loveliest of her ornaments and then, accompanied by her maids, moves slowly to the tryst.[58] As they reach the bower which Krishna has constructed, her friend urges her to enter.

O you who bear on your face the smile that comes of the ardour of passion Sport with him whose love-abode is the floor of the beautiful bower.

Radha approaches and their love strains to its height.

She looked at Krishna who desired only her, on him who for long wanted dalliance, Whose face with his pleasure was overwhelmed and who was possessed with desire After embracing her long and ardently, Krishna with his necklace of pearls Krishna like the Jumna in a mighty flood with its necklace of specks of foam.[59]

The cowgirls go and Krishna speaks to Radha.

O woman with desire, place on this patch of flower-strewn floor your lotus foot, And let your foot through beauty win, To me who am the Lord of All, O be attached, now always yours. O follow me, my little Radha.

O lovely woman, give me now the nectar of your lips, infuse new life into this slave of yours, so dead, This slave, whose heart is placed in you, whose body burned in separation, this slave denied the pleasure of your love.

Radha yields and as the night passes they achieve height upon height of sexual bliss.

Their love play grown great was very delightful, the love play where thrills were a hindrance to firm embraces, Where their helpless closing of eyes was a hindrance to longing looks at each other, and their secret talk to their drinking of each the other's nectar of lips, and where the skill of their love was hindered by boundless delight.

She loved as never before throughout the course of the conflict of love, to win, lying over his beautiful body, to triumph over her lover; And so through taking the active part her thighs grew lifeless, and languid her vine-like arms, and her heart beat fast, and her eyes grew heavy and closed.

In the morning most wondrous, the heart of her lord was smitten with arrows of Love, arrows which went through his eyes, Arrows which were her nailed-scratched bosom, her reddened sleep-denied eyes, her crimson lips from a bath of kisses, her hair disarranged with the flowers awry, and her girdle all loose and slipping. With hair knot loosened and stray locks waving, her cheeks perspiring, her glitter of lips impaired, And the necklace of pearls not appearing fair because of her jar-shaped breast being denuded, And her belt, her glittering girdle, dimmed in beauty, The happy one drank of the face where the lips were washed with the juice of his mouth, His mouth half open uttering amorous noises, vague and delirious, the rows of teeth in the breath of an indrawn sigh delightedly chattering. Drank of the face of that deer-eyed woman whose body lay helpless, released of excessive delight, the thrilling delight of embraces.

When their passion is at last ended, Radha begs Krishna to help her with her toilet.

She said to the joy of her heart, Adorn the curl on my brow which puts the lotus to shame, my spotless brow, Make a beautiful spot on my forehead, a spot with the paste of the sandal, O giver of pride, on my tresses, untidy now on account of desire, place flowers, Place on my hips the girdle, the clothes and the jewels, Cover my beautiful loins, luscious and firm, the cavern of Love to be feared. Make a pattern upon my breasts and a picture on my cheeks and fasten over my loins a girdle, Bind my masses of hair with a beautiful garland and place many bracelets upon my hands and jewelled anklets upon my feet.

Krishna does so and with a final celebration of Krishna as God and of the song itself--its words 'sweeter than sugar, like love's own glorious flavour'--the poem ends.

[Footnote 51: Note 18.]

[Footnote 52: Plate 20.]

[Footnote 53: Plates 21 and 22.]

[Footnote 54: Note 19.]

[Footnote 55: Plate 23.]

[Footnote 56: Plate 24.]

[Footnote 57: Plate 25.]

[Footnote 58: Plate 26.]

[Footnote 59: Plate 27.]

(iii) Later Poetry

Jayadeva's poem quickly achieved renown in Northern and Western India and from the early thirteenth century became a leading model for all poets who were enthralled by Krishna as God and lover. In Western India, Bilvamangala, a poet of Malabar, composed a whole galaxy of Krishna songs, his poem, the _Balagopala Stuti_ (The Childhood of Krishna) earning for him the title 'the Jayadeva of the South.' But it is during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries that the most important developments occurred. In Bengal, the poets Vidyapati and Chandi Das flourished in about the year 1420, while in Western India, Mira Bai, a local princess, began a wide-spread popular movement. Mira Bai was followed by Vallabhacharya (born 1478) who in turn inspired four poet disciples--Krishna Das, Sur Das, Parmanand Das and Kumbhan Das. All these were at their height in the middle of the sixteenth century, writing Hindi poems in which Radha's adventures with Krishna and their rapturous love-making were devotedly described.[60]

The work of Sur Das was of special importance for in one of his compositions he took each of the thirty-six traditional modes of Indian music-the _Ragas_ and _Raginis_--but instead of celebrating them as separate 'musical characters,' appended to each a love-poem about Krishna. Sur Das was followed by Keshav Das of Orchha (fl. 1580), Govind Das (fl. 1590), Bihari Lai (fl. 1650) and Kali Das (fl. 1700)--all poets in whom religious ecstasy was blended with a feeling for passionate romance. Of these poets Bihari Lai is famous for the _Sat Sai_ in which he celebrated Krishna's romance in seven hundred verses.