Part 5

_Rādhā:_ Fresh flowers are springing by every cabin, brake and copse. The koil sings the pancam note: The southern breeze has reached the snowy hills, And yet my darling has not come again!

The lunar sandal burns my body hotly, The bees are buzzing in the woods, The Spring is here and Kānu far away, Unfriendly Fate I see.

With steadfast gaze to scan my Master's face, My eyes have no content: So many hardships may a woman's shrivelled heart Endure in such a joyful season!

My body wasting daily, like the winter lotus, I know not what the end will be! _Fie upon life, for shame, says Vidyāpati,_ _Pitiless Mādhava's heart!_

CVI.

_Rādhā:_ Unhappy I, all birdalone. Calling for Kānu, Kān, my life slipped by: With promise of return, my lover went away, He has forgotten all my former charms!

The flowers are blowing in every glade, Now Spring has come, my dear, The host of koils spread their noise: My darling is abroad, I may no more sustain!

To whom shall I confide my heart's distress? No living creature of the Triple World such pain may know! _Hearken, fair Rāi, says Vidyāpati:_ _I shall expound it all to Kānu._

CVII.

_Rādhā:_ There is no limit to my woe, my dear! O heavy rains of autumn-tide, My house is empty!

Impenetrable clouds are thundering unceasingly, And all the world is full of rain: Kānta is a stone, and Love is cruel, A rain of arrows pierces me.

A hundred flashes blind my eyes, The peacock dances in an ecstasy: The happy frogs but croak and croak, My heart is bursting.

_Utter darkness, night impenetrable,_ _Unbroken line of lightning:_ _Vidyāpati says: How may you pass_ _The day and night alone?_

CVIII.

_Rādhā:_ Who says that Mādhava will come, my friend? How can I ever cross the sea of longing? I have no faith within my heart!

Expectant every moment, I pass the livelong day, Expectant day by day, a month goes by: Expectant every month, I pass the year, I have forsaken all hope in life.

Expectant every year, I pass my life Wasting my flesh with hopes: If the lotus die of the winter moon, What shall avail in the spring?

If the flower be scorched by the summer sun, What shall avail the autumn rains? If I waste in longing this fresh young life, What shall avail my Lover's love?

_Vidyāpati says: Hearken, young thing:_ _Do not be hopeless now:_ _That Bliss of Braja, and Heart's Delight_ _Shall quickly be at your side!_

CIX.

_Dūtikā:_ O Kān, I saw the tender she beside herself! Love is distraught by koil's calls,-- And day by day she wastes away.

He stays abroad, he sends no news,-- How shall the Braj girls live? The best and fairest of the world endures The poison and the pain of parting!

She who might have no bed except his bosom, Now grovels on the ground,-- As if the full round moon lay fallen asunder In a withered campak garland.

From then till now I have consoled her, Nought else has saved her life! _Vidyāpati says: O pitiless Mādhava,_ _She swooned away to hear your name!_

CX.

_Sakhī:_ Making a promise to return 'To-morrow,' her lover went away,-- Writing the word 'To-morrow,' the wall is full! The day had dawned, she asked of everyone: Tell me, O tell me, when will to-morrow come?

'Awaiting to-morrow, abandoning hope,-- Never again shall I lie by Kānu's side.' _Vidyāpati says: Hearken, fair damsel:_ _The beauties of the town are holding him back._

CXI.

_Rādhā:_ Everyone praises the gifts of love, That love whereby the virtuous woman is made a wanton!

Had I but known how cruel was love, Should I have passed the limits of sin?

Now it has come to be poison to me: Let no one set their love on Hari, on Hari!

_Vidyāpati says: Hearken, fair damsel:_ _Would you first drink water and then consider the giver's birth?_

CXII.

_Rādhā:_ How many reproaches and scornful words of my elders I counted for nought in my heart, deep-laden in love.

For whose sake I forsook without shame the path of duty, He now has forsaken my companionship.

Now dearest maiden, tell Murari for me and remind him, 'The worthy forsake not any without regard to their innocence.'

O dear companion, he that is wise, Even though sentence be harsh, does justice at least.

What more can I say, that am but a helpless woman? It is you that are skilled in speech and full of resource.

Tell Kānu this with honeyed words, I pray you do it, appease his wrath.

For your wiles are many, and what do I know? _Vidyāpati says: This song is of love._

CXIII.

_Rādhā:_ I never thought that love would break, Or that the love of any worthy one might be a stone.

Therefore it is this great misfortune has befallen me, I cannot fathom what Fate has wrought.

And tell my friend, my dear, with folded hands, 'It is but fruitless to destroy the flower of love.'

If he should answer, 'You are senseless,' Say that I gave my heart with a free good will.

_Vidyāpati declares: I am amazed;_ _He whom you love, it seems, is blind!_

CXIV.

_Rādhā:_ Explain this all to Kānu, dearest friend: 'If you who sowed the seeds of love, destroy the flower, In what way shall I live?

'Just as a drop of oil floats on the surface of the water, Such is the likeness of your love: Just as the water on the sand immediately vanishes, Such is the way of your affection.'

I was a woman of honour, and am become a wanton Since his words beguiled me: I with my own hands shaved my head Because of Kānu's love.

Deep in my heart I am grieved, like the wife of a thief, And hide my face within my veil: Like the eager moth's that flings itself on the flame Was the fruit I sought to enjoy.

_Vidyāpati says: This is the way of the Kali age,_ _Let no one wonder thereat:_ _Everyone reaps the fruit of his folly_ _Who puts himself in another s power._

CXV.

_Rādhā:_ I am dying, am dying, I die indeed, my dear: To whom shall I leave my Kānu, my storehouse of treasure? As many as may be, dear friends, remain by me, And when I am dead, write Krishna's name along my limbs.

And Lalita, friend of my life, whisper such spells in my ears That my body may die to the sound of Krishna's name: Nor burn nor cast in the waters Rādhā's body, But hang me high on a tamāl bough, when I am dead.

The tamāl tree is of Krishna's hue, There let my body ever rest: If ever again my darling comes to Brindāban, I shall come to life at the sight of my dear.

If I may not see his moon-fair face again, I shall cast off my life in the fire of love! _Vidyāpati says: Hearken, fair damsel,_ _Be patient of heart, you shall meet your Murāri._

CXVI.

_Rādhā:_ After how long shall this sadness depart? When shall the heavy load of this grief be lifted? How long shall it be till the moon and the lotus are joined? After how many days shall the bee disport with the lily?

When shall my lover converse with me? When will he put his hands on my breasts? When will he take my hand to set me on his lap, When shall my longing be realised?

_Hearken, fair woman, says Vidyāpati:_ _Every sorrow shall fly when Murāri is yours._

CXVII.

_Rādhā:_ Speak to me, speak to me, dear, and tell me, O tell me, Where is the land where my darling dwells? For Madan's burning arrows, my body is ablaze To hear some news of him.

What like is she my Lord has met, That he is so enamoured? Some maid he must have found, my Lord is glad. And plunges in my heart an arrow.

Shatter my bangles of shell, take off my fine array, And break my necklace of ivory-pearls,-- If my dear will forsake me, what is the use of jewels? Cast them all in the waves of the Jamunā.

Wipe from my hair the scarlet line and put it far away. All is hopeless without my darling. _Vidyāpati says: Hearken young damsel:_ _Your sorrow is come to an end._

CXVIII.

_Rādhā:_ The day that Mādhava went his way All those words poured forth: My heart was heavy and heavier still to hear, The tears were dropping from my eyes.

When morning dawned, then coming close, Did Kānu swear an oath, I held his hand upon my head: Now all is otherwise.

Scanning the road, my heart is heavy: The mādhavī vine is flowering, The koil is a-calling, _Kuhu, kuhu_, resounding. And every bee is buzzing.

Which is the city where my dear was stolen. Pleased by what maid he won? _Vidyāpati says: Hearken, young damsel:_ _The thief is your lover himself._

CXIX.

_Dūtikā:_ A river of tears is flowing from her eyes, And on its banks she falls and swoons: O Mādhava, your pity is but too perverse, You have no fear of murdering a wife.

Then did her breath grow faint, And some were fanning her with lotus-leaves, And other clever maids were listening for her breath, And I have run to tell you.

Some say that Hari is a-coming, And at that name her wit returns, The dusky braid begins to dance upon her breast-- A serpent black upon a lily's lap.

Recounting in your heart your former love, Come back once more to your own home, _Vidyāpati the mighty bard declares:_ _The wily wight is well aware of all her woe!_

CXX.

_Dūtikā:_ Ah Mādhava, I come just now from seeing Rāi: For grief of loneliness she answers nought, But lies with her face on the earth.

She lay outstretched on the grassy ground, Her body was wasted with love, As if with a touchstone the Lord of Five Arrows Had proved a streak of gold.

The orb of her face lay low in the dust-- (More lovely it seemed therefor): The moon in fear of Rāhu had fallen down on the floor-- (Such was the fashion of my delusion).

What can I say of the pangs of disunion? Hearken, most cruel Kānu: _Vidyāpati says: She is of good fame,--_ _You know that her life is in danger._

CXXI.

_Dūtikā:_ Mādhava, lo, I have seen your lovely Rāi,-- Her gaze is fixed like a painted puppet's, Friends surround her on every side, Exceeding faint is the breath of her nostrils.

Exceeding thin is her corse, like a streak of gold, (None that beholds it believes it hers), Bracelets and bangles fall from either wrist, Her hair untressed, her head unhidden.

I cannot solve these sentiments and swoons,-- Fiercely the fever of longing scorches her relentlessly. _Vidyāpati says: Her loveless body_ _Has abandoned now all love on earth._

CXXII.

_Dūtika:_ Mādhava, prithee, visit yonder babe: To-day or to-morrow she is like to die, Such burning love she bears!

Refreshing water, lotus-leaves upon her bed, Or ointment of sandal-paste, Each and all are flames of fire; The moon with tenfold heat annoys.

Devoid of might, she leans upon the earth to rise, All night she wends and wakes, And starting suddenly, she murmurs 'Shiva, Shiva!' Her fire has filled the earth.

_I know not if there be a remedy._ _Says Vidyāpati the poet:_ _Nought but the fated tenth-day plight remains,--_ _Be well-advised forthwith._

CXXIII.

_Dūtika:_ She turns her face away from looking on the moon. She stands and gazes piteously down the road; With eye-collyrium she makes a painted Rāhu And speaks with him in wrath.

Mādhava, unyielding heart, delaying abroad, Her that you dallied with I have beheld all birdalone, I pray you turn again to home.

How can the tender child support the southern zephyr? For Love is doing her hurt: Her breath has ceased, which hope sustained,-- With every finger she draws a snake.

_Vidyāpati says: O Lord Shrvasimha,_ _This is the cure for sundering's sorrow--_ _Avoiding the koil, and taking sweets in hand,_ _Loudly to summon the crows._

CXXIV.

_Rādhā:_ There was a time my lover leaned above my face in bliss, Not for an instant would he leave my body: He bound my flesh in a bond of measureless love, Who now forsakes my company.

Why should I live any more, O fair sweet friend? He without whom I could not rest for a moment, Is filled with the love of another.

My friend would fare to a far-away land, and I shall die of grief, I will cast away my heart in the sea, and none shall know: Or taking the necklace lay on my lover's neck, I will wander wide in the world as a yoginī.

_Vidyāpati Kavi sings of this sundering--_ _Record I take of Rājā Shivasimha and Lakshmī Devī._

CXXV.

_Dūtika:_ Mādhava and the babe new-led in love,-- You have forgotten her, forsaken to her fate, She is become a garland offering.

She who so loves, I see her frame is fretted, She stares upon your path With fixed regard, she hears no word, Her tears are falling fast.

Her country is forsaken of your flute, Her body is wasted all away Most like the narrow streak of gold The goldsmith draws upon the touchstone.

Her hair is disarrayed, she no more tresses it-- So little might the fair thing has: Wasted and worn and woeful I have seen her Midst her gay companions.

Like chaff she flies and falls, She needs her friend's embraces: Cure of her sickness lies in other hands, How may she live?

_On solemn oath Vidyāpati reveals_ _A yet more ferly thing:_ _Pondering ever on your ways_ _Is the root of her undoing._

CXXVI.

_Krishna:_ Can I forget, my dear and gentle lady, How when I took her hands, and went my way to Mathurā, She fell and fainted?

Nor with what trembling speech and gentle murmuring The fair and gentle creature spake? My body stiffened, I came away indeed, But there was left my heart with her.

Now lacking her, the day and night are dimmed, She is established in my heart: Beside another love in regal state, I live like any anchorite!

Surely I come in a day or twain, Make her assured of this. _Vidyāpati says: There lies his heart,--_ _They shall be joined in love._

PUNARMILNA O RASODGĀRA

CXXVII.

_Rādhā:_ When Hari comes to Gokula town, In every house shall the trumpets flourish 'Victory'! I shall give my necklace of pearls for festal knots, And my heavy breasts as festal urns.

I shall offer my nipples as sprouts of the scented mango, In Mādhava's service I shall achieve my heart's desires: I will set before my beloved incense and light and gifts, And do the anointing with tears of joy from my eyes!

_My outstretched hands shall embrace my dear._ _Vidyāpati says: This is loves ecstasy._

CXXVIII.

_Radha:_ When my dear and blissful lover comes to my garth, I shall turn my back with a little smile: Wildly my darling will grasp my wimple,-- And I shall draw back, for all he may do!

And when my belovéd asks me to play, Then shall my smiling mouth refuse: When he shall roughly clasp my breasts, My hands shall restrain his hands, half-glances belying.

For my lover, the proper man is a bee, Holding my cheeks will drink the honey of my lips,-- Then shall he ravish my every sense! _Vidyāpati says: Your life is blest!_

CXXIX.

_Rādhā:_ When Kāna shall come to my house, I shall gaze on his moon-face with swimming eyes: When as a woman I say 'Nay, nay,' Then shall Murāri woo me more wildly!

He will take my hands and set me down on his lap, He will soothe my heart for endless time: I shall clasp him close, casting out coldness, He will fill me with balm, I shall close my eyes!

_Vidyāpati says: Lo, lovely lady,_ _Fie on this brazen love of yours!_

CXXX.

_Rādhā:_ I spent last night in bliss, I saw my darling's moon-face: Meseemed my life and youth bore fruit, The ten directions were filled with joy.

I thought to-day that my home was made a home, To-day my body became a body indeed: Fate has been friendly to me to-day, And all my doubts are dissolved.

Now let the koil call a hundred thousand times, A hundred thousand moons may rise! Now let the arrows-five become a hundred thousand, And southern breezes sigh their softest!

Now for so long as he leaves me not So long I deem my body is verily mine, _Vidyāpati says: Your bliss is not little,_ _Blessing upon your love renewed!_

CXXXI.

_Rādhā:_ How shall I tell of my boundless joy, my dear,-- Mādhav abiding day after day in my house? Just so much as the wicked moon annoyed me before, Even so much was the joy when I saw my darling's face.

Even if I might fold in my wimple the best of treasures, I would not let go my beloved into a far-away land: A shawl in the winter is my beloved, a gentle breeze in the summer, My dear is a shelter from the storm, and a boat on the river.

_Vidyāpati says: Lo, lovely lady,_ _The grief of the goodly endures not for ever._

CXXXII.

_Rādhā:_ The hurt that the Lord of the Seasons erstwhile did me, All has departed at sight of Hari's face! All hopes and desires that were in my heart, All are achieved in my Lover's kindness.

When I lay in His arms every hair of my body was glad, In the dew of His lips my grieving melted away: Fate has fulfilled the hope of all the days of my life,-- From bending my eyes upon Him I know no rest.

_Vidyāpati says: There is grief at an end,_ _No sickness remains when the cure has been found._

CXXXIII.

_Sakhī:_ Fate is now friendly for ever more! Each on the other's countenance gazing, twain are rapt--

Each in the other's arms the other enfolds-- Twain are the mouths contented each with the nectar of other's lips.

Twain are the bodies a-tremble at Madan's behest, The jingle of jewels is heard again in the house!

_What more should I say, Vidyāpati asks:_ _So as their love is, so is their loving._

CXXXIV.

_Sakhī:_ Rare was that meeting of one with the other, The grief of disunion vanished afar: He has taken her hand and put her down on the painted seat, The jewel-Shyāma disports with the jewel-damsel!

In many wise playing with diverse delights, The bee, as it were, with the lotus delaying: Eyes upon eyes and face upon face, A chorus of twain entranced by each other's perfections!

_Vidyāpati says: The Lover is rapt,_ _The Love-thief has conquered the Triple Worlds!_

CXXXV.

_Rādhā:_ A mirror in hand, a flower in my hair, Surm of my eyes, tāmbūl of my mouth, Musk on my breast, a necklace about my throat, All the gear on my body, the life of my house.

Wings to the bird, and water to fish, Life of my life--I know Thou art these-- But tell me, O Mādhav, what art Thou in sooth? _Avers Vidyāpati: Each is both._

CXXXVL.

_Rādhā:_ What would you ask of my feelings, my dear,-- Can I expound such love and affection As are moment by moment transformed?

From the day of my birth I have seen His beauty, And yet are my eyes unsatisfied: My ears have continually heard His honeyed speech, But I have not attained the path of audition.

Many a night have I passed in play, And never have learnt what is dalliance: Myriad aeons I held Him close to my heart, And yet no rest has reached that heart.

How many a one tormented and passion-tost I have seen--without seeing! _Vidyāpati says: For your heart's ease_ _You have met with One who is nonpareil._

CXXXVII.

_Kavi:_ Hearken, O Mādhava, what more can I say? Nought can I find to compare with love:

Though the sun of the East should rise in the West, Yet would not love be far from the worthy,

Or if I should write the stars of heaven on earth, Or if I could pour from my hands the water of all the sea.

_Vidyāpati says: O Shivasimha Rāi,_ _To abandon the loving is ever unmeet._

CXXXIII.

_Kavi:_ Frenzied tresses encircling her radiant face-- It is Rāhu desiring the orb of the moon: Flowers of her hair with her necklace entwined, As the Jamunā joins with the waters of Gangā.

The twain beyond speech are out of all reason, The loveling disports with most ardent passion: Eagerly fair-face kisses love-face, The bending moon drinks up the lotus.

Her face is adorned with a bead of sweat-- Madan has offered a pearl to the moon: Long is the necklace that hangs on her breasts-- It is pouring its milk into golden jars.

The chains on her hips are loudly jingling-- Madan is sounding pæans of conquest. _Vidyāpati says: O amorous lady,_ _Your skill in love's lore surpasses my speech!_

END.

NOTES

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

ELUCIDATIONS

BIRDS, BEASTS AND FLOWERS

ILLUSTRATIONS

TEXTS

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

The poems voice the thoughts or represent the spoken words of Rādhā and Krishna, of sakhīs (Rādhā's friends) and dūtikās (messengers of Rādhā or Krishna), and of the poet himself The greater part of the whole is properly dialogue, but inasmuch as the 'audience' is generally silent, we have only thought it necessary to make use of quotation marks where the words of more than one speaker are reported in one and the same song.