13
How to Partake in the Love of Kṛṣṇa
The text that is translated here, the Ambrosia of the Sport of Govinda (Govindalīlāmṛta) by Kṛṣṇadāsa Kavirāja (sixteenth century C.E.), is the basis of a meditational practice involving visualization that is practiced by members of the Caitanya Vaiṣṇava tradition. The practice is called līlā-smaraṇa, or remembering the sport of one’s chosen deities. Sport (līlā) here means all of the activities of the divine couple, none of which can be, almost by definition, anything other than sport or play. In India the play of a deity is both the proof and the symbol of its divinity. Deities, resting on inexhaustible cushions of power, play; humans work. Of course, humans, too, emulating deity, play in their own limited ways, but only after accumulating a cushion, however meager, of surplus (that is, power) through their work. So it is with Rādhā and Kṛṣṇa (Govinda), the principal deities of the Caitanya tradition, whose whole existence centers around the play of repeatedly finding love in each others’ arms.
According to the Caitanya tradition, this creation of ours, full of renegade souls, all seeking with their minuscule powers to enjoy the pleasures of their own sport, may be said to be an insignificant and disturbing side-effect of the eternal sport of the divine lovers, Rādhā and Kṛṣṇa. The real raison d’être of existence is to nourish and in some way participate in the lovemaking of that divine couple, a fact which we the inmates of this turbulent, changing corner of existence have wanted to forget, and apparently with great success; and for our forgetfulness we suffer here, separated from them. This, in a nutshell, is the theology behind the Caitanya tradition’s cultivation of passionate devotional attachment to Rādhā and Kṛṣṇa. The essential aim of religious practice, therefore, is to undo the forgetfulness that has enshrouded the living beings of this world through various techniques of remembering. The direct recollection of the sport of Rādhā and Kṛṣṇa is the final stage in the process of returning to one’s own true state of being.
Religious practice in the Caitanya tradition seeks to change the desire to forget into a desire to remember. It begins with a recognition of the impossibility of any enduring enjoyment, apart from the divine lovers. This is a recognition that usually has the form of an alienation founded on a sense of frustrated acquisitiveness, a feeling that one is somehow out of place, and is both incomplete and unable to do anything about it. The early stages of practice center around listening to readings of sacred scripture, usually the Bhāgavata Purāṇa, cultivating habits of cleanliness and good conduct, and reciting the holy names of Kṛṣṇa under the guidance of a teacher. This recitation takes the form of private recitation called japa or congregational singing called kīrtana. After years of such practice, one learns the basic elements of Vaiṣṇava theology and frees oneself from bad habits and the kinds of desire that prolong one’s forgetfulness. Finally, when a rudimentary desire to regain the association of the divine couple develops, a disciple is given mantra initiation. During mantra initiation, technically called dīkṣā, the disciple is given a set of esoteric incantations (mantra) to be used in the worship of Rādhā and Kṛṣṇa. Without these sacred formulas, received from an empowered teacher, the ritual worship of the images of Rādhā and Kṛṣṇa and the forms of mental worship, including this practice of remembering their sport, cannot be performed. The teacher (guru) whispers the incantations into the right ear of the disciple, the most essential of which are the kāma-gāyatrī and the Gopāla-mantra. With the bestowal of these sacred chants the doorway to the eternal sport of the divine lovers is opened.
The doorway may be open, but in order to enter into that mode of existence one is in need of an appropriate form and identity. In many forms of Indic religion, the highest state of existence is thought of as a formless one, full of consciousness unrelated to any object, but not so in Vaiṣṇavism. In Vaiṣṇavism, the highest state of existence is one formed and embodied with indestructible, unchanging bodies of consciousness. Thus, in order to enter into the sport of Rādhā and Kṛṣṇa, one needs an eternal body of consciousness. Even if our present bodies have been transformed by the techniques of alchemy, or “baked” in the fires of sexual passion in the sexual rites of tantra, into bodies of adamantine hardness and durability, our entry into the divine sport of Rādhā and Kṛṣṇa is still inappropriate. One needs, along with that body of consciousness, an identity or “role” that fits into the eternal narrative that informs the unending sport of Rādhā and Kṛṣṇa. The cultivation of these bodies of consciousness with their appropriate identities forms the substance of the final level of religious practice in Caitanya Vaiṣṇavism, and it is to this level of practice that Kṛṣṇadāsa’s text pertains.
Perhaps the earliest discussion of practice involving a separate body and identity suitable for participation in the sport of Rādhā and Kṛṣṇa in the Caitanya tradition is found in a work by Rūpa (sixteenth century), the Ocean of the Ambrosia of the Rapture of Devotion (Bhakti-rasāmṛta-sindhu). Rūpa was one of the leading poet-theologians of the Caitanya tradition and a direct student of Caitanya. In an important passage of his work (1.2.294-5), in which he teaches the practice of devotion in pursuit of passionate devotion, he says:
Remembering his dearest one, Kṛṣṇa, and an associate of his [Kṛṣṇa’s] who appeals to him, he [an aspiring practitioner], engaged by story about them, should always live in Vraja. In this practice, one who desires that [special associate’s] feeling should serve with his practitioner’s body and his perfected body, following the people of Vraja.
Rūpa’s nephew, Jīva, commenting on this passage, explains that the “practitioner’s body” means the body one happens to be situated in and the “perfected body” is an internally imagined body suitable for the kind of service to Kṛṣṇa that one wants to perform. Thus, Rūpa is recommending two sets of practice, one to be performed by our ordinary bodies and another to be performed by another body, our mentally conceived or imagined one. Essential to this practice is the “remembering” of Kṛṣṇa and an associate of his who is already in the eternal sport and whose relationship to Kṛṣṇa one finds appealing. In addition, Rūpa stresses the importance of stories describing that associate and Kṛṣṇa. One fashions in one’s imagination, then, on the basis of this remembering and hearing, a body and identity similar to that of one’s favorite associate of Kṛṣṇa. Kṛṣṇadāsa Kavirāja’s work, the Ambrosia of the Sport of Govinda, is a text for use in the practice that Rūpa has outlined here, in which the sport of Rādhā and Kṛṣṇa is described in detail throughout an entire day and night.
Although Rūpa suggests that an attraction to a relationship that exists between Kṛṣṇa and one of his associates develops gradually and organically to form the basis for fashioning one’s own perfected body, in practice as we find it today, a practitioner who has arrived at this level generally will learn of his perfected body from his or her teacher. This takes place in yet another initiation in which the disciple not only learns about his or her own “perfected” or “accomplished” form but also learns about that of his teacher and of all of the members of his initiating lineage of teachers going back to Caitanya or one of his close associates. At this time the disciple receives his “perfected” name, age, type of service, body color, customary dress, and so forth. On the basis of this kind of information the disciple is expected to engage in the visualization practice that Kṛṣṇadāsa’s text and others like it foster.
In his description of this practice, Rūpa suggests that any of Kṛṣṇa’s eternal associates might act as models for a “perfected” body and that thereby one can cultivate the feelings of that associate in the exercise of his or her relationship with Kṛṣṇa. As the Caitanya tradition has developed, however, only two of the five possible relationships (the peaceful and remote meditator, the servant, the friend, the parent, and the lover) have been cultivated with any degree of sophistication, and one of them vastly overshadows the other. It is uncertain why this is so. One possible explanation is that they are connected with the two most powerful personalities of the early Caitanya movement, Caitanya and Nityānanda. The most common relationship to Rādhā and Kṛṣṇa is that represented by the mañjarī, which literally means “flowering bud.” A mañjarī in the sport of Rādhā and Kṛṣṇa is a younger girlfriend of Rādhā who is in part a friend (an equal) and in part a servant (a subordinate). As a girlfriend she is included among Rādhā’s confidantes when the latter goes to meet and enjoy Kṛṣṇa. As a servant she is given certain intimate services to perform that make her a witness to and participant in the most private aspects of the sport of Rādhā and Kṛṣṇa. The members of the tradition regard this intimate access as a special grace bestowed upon them by the loving couple through Caitanya. This identity probably grows out of Caitanya’s experience of the sport of Kṛṣṇa. An important part of the tradition views Caitanya as being overwhelmed with the feelings of Rādhā. Caitanya’s followers would view themselves, therefore, as servant-friends of Rādhā. The other identity that has been cultivated in the Caitanya tradition is that of the male cowherd friend of Kṛṣṇa. Some texts have survived describing that relationship. Members of the tradition identify Caitanya’s associate Nityānanda with Balarāma, Kṛṣṇa’s older brother, who is associated with the male cowherder friends of Kṛṣṇa. He may thus have been the inspiration for the second relationship cultivated by the tradition.
The Ambrosia of the Sport of Govinda is one of the longest poems ever written about Kṛṣṇa. It consists of twenty-three chapters, each of which contains at least a hundred verses. Yet Kṛṣṇadāsa describes only one day in the sport of Rādhā and Kṛṣṇa, elaborating their daily activities in the spiritual paradise called Vṛṇdāvana on the highest plane of existence. The day of Rādhā and Kṛṣṇa is divided into eight periods that act as divisions of their sport, and these periods correspond to eight divisions of roughly three hours each in the day of the practitioner, and thus can be given exact times in the earthly day of twenty-four hours. This allows a practitioner to visualize what Rādhā and Kṛṣṇa are doing at any time during the day. The practitioner is expected to fill his or her day with the visualization or “remembering” of the sport of Rādhā and Kṛṣṇa as Kṛṣṇadāsa has described it, using his or her perfected body and identity as the perspective from which the sport is viewed. Eventually, the sport comes alive and the practitioner becomes a spontaneous participant in the sport, gradually shifting his or her identity from the “practitioner’s” body to the “perfected” body. When the practitioner’s material body dies, as it must in time, the erstwhile practitioner’s consciousness moves permanently to the perfected body and lives on in the eternal sport of Rādhā and Kṛṣṇa in its new form and identity as an eternal associate.
It is not certain what the source of the events of the eternal day in the life of Rādhā and Kṛṣṇa is. The commentator on Kṛṣṇadāsa’s text, Vṛndāvana Cakravartin, says in his commentary on verse three of the first chapter that Rūpa gave an outline of the story in an eleven-verse hymn called the Auspicious Hymn of Remembrance (Smaraṇa-maṅgala-stotra). The eleven verses look suspiciously unlike Rūpa’s work, however, which is usually quite elegant and finely fashioned, and since all of the verses are found in the Ambrosia of the Sport of Govinda, where they introduce each new division in the sport, they are probably the work of Kṛṣṇadāsa Kṛṣṇavirāja who, though an accomplished poet, was not a master poet like Rūpa. There is another point to be considered here, however. The entire cycle of events appears in one of the chapters of the Padma Purāṇa. That account is almost certainly earlier than both Rūpa and Kṛṣṇadāsa, for, although it is not impossible that the Padma Purāṇa was still being added to in the sixteenth century, it is highly unlikely. Thus, the story of Kṛṣṇa’s eternal daily sport and the practice of contemplating or remembering it were around before Rūpa and Kṛṣṇadāsa, and one of them, probably Kṛṣṇadāsa at Rūpa’s suggestion, wrote the hymn briefly outlining it. Later Kṛṣṇadāsa elaborated it into the Ambrosia of the Sport of Govinda. Since only the first and part of the second chapters of Kṛṣṇadāsa’s work is translated here, and since the short hymn is available in translation elsewhere and is otherwise quite terse, I have included the moderately elaborate description found in the Padma Purāṇa. This will provide a useful overview of the events in the entire story.
The portion of the Ambrosia of the Sport of Govinda that is translated here describes the sport of Rādhā and Kṛṣṇa during the first period of the day, which begins about an hour and a half before sunrise. It is called the “night’s end sport,” and depicts the divine lovers waking up in each other’s arms after a night of enjoyment in the forests outside of their cowherd village. A small portion of the next period, called the “morning sport,” has also been included.
Two editions of the Śrī-Śrī-Govinda-līlāmṛtam by Kṛṣṇadāsa Kavirāja were used for the translation: one edited by Haridāsa Dāsa (Navadvīpa: Haribola Kuṭīra, Caitanyābda 463 [1949 C.E.]); the other, with the commentary of Vṛndāvana Cakravartin and a Hindi translation, vol 1., edited and translated by Haridāsa Śāstri (Vṛndāvana: Śrī Gadādhara Gaurahari Press, 1977). The final selection is from chapter eighty-three of the Pātāla-khaṇda of the Padma Parāṇa by Krishna Dwaipayan Vedauyas, part 3, Patal Khand, Gurumandal Series no. 18 (Calcutta: Manasukharāya Morā, 1958), which describes briefly the entire cycle of sport.
May Gaura and Gadādhara be glorified!
Glory be to Rādhā and Kṛṣṇa!
The Ambrosia of the Sport of Govinda (Govinda-līlāmṛta)
CHAPTER ONE
1. I pay homage to Śrī Govinda, the great abode of all the joys of Vraja [“the pasture lands”], the joy of the forest of Vṛṇdāvana, who himself is pleased by the association of Śrī Rādhā.
2. I surrender in astonishment to Śrī Kṛṣṇa Caitanya, the compassionate one who has cured the world of the madness of ignorance and then maddened it again with the nectar of the treasure of sacred love for himself.
3. The ultimate goal of spiritual development, the loving service of the lotus-like feet of the friend of the heart of Rādhā, though unattainable by Brahmā, Ananta, and others, is achieved only through intense longing by those absorbed in his activities in Vraja. In order now to reveal the Lord’s meditative service,
by which his [direct] loving service is attained and which is to be contemplated by those travelers on the path of passion, I praise the Lord’s daily activities in Vraja.
4. At night’s end he returns from the forest bowers into the cow settlement. In the morning and evening he performs such sports as milking the cows, eating, and so forth. In the forenoon he plays with his friends and tends the cows. In the midday and also at night he sports with Rādhā in the forest. In the afternoon he returns to the settlement and in the late evening pleases his well-wishers. May this Kṛṣṇa protect us.
5. Let this nectar of the eternal sports of Govinda which squashes the desire for the nectar of the gods (soma) be glorified! Though it is constantly drunk by the speech and the mind, it astonishingly makes one thirsty, and though it is the cure for the disease of material existence, it brings on the madness, blindness, and delusion born of love. Moreover, though it is constantly chewed, it provides an undiminishing flavor (rasa) and nourishes the body, mind, and heart.
6. How shall I not be a tremendous cause of laughter for Vaiṣṇavas who constantly play in the ocean of the nectar of Kṛṣṇa’s sports, for though I am incompetent, extremely mediocre, of small intelligence, and unqualified, I desire to taste the full flavor (rasa) of that ocean?
7. Let the speech of such a fool as me, like that of a clown, cause laughter and mirth among the Vaiṣṇavas of Vraja whose minds are absorbed in the nectar of the love-dancelike sports of Kṛṣṇa revealed by other, real dramatists like Śrī Rūpa.
8. Encouraged by statements of the saints such as: “That verbal creation which in each verse [contains the name of the Lord] destroys the sins of the community (Bhāgavata Purāṇa, 1.5.11),” even though I am dull I shall make my words respected by the saintly through description of the sports of Govinda.
9. May those saintly souls who are moistened by proximity to the reservoir nourish this cow [text] of mine which is headed toward Gokula but afflicted by wandering across the desert of my lips.
10. At the end of night I remember Rādhā and Kṛṣṇa awakened by many noises instigated by anxious Vṛndā and made to rise from their bed of joy by the charming and pithy songs of the parrots and sāris [a type of bird]. They, tremulous from the erotic passion that is aroused at that time, are gazed upon and pleased by their girlfriends. Then, frightened by the report of the old monkey Kakkhaṭī, even though they thirst for each other, they return to their own beds in their homes.
11. Seeing that night was ending, Vṛndā enlisted a flock of birds under her control to awaken Madhusūdana [Kṛṣṇa] and Rādhā.
12. Having obtained the order of Vṛndā, the birds, who until then because of her order had remained silent though their hearts longed for service, began to sing in joy surrounding the bower of love-play.
13. On the grapevines sang the sārīs, the parrots in the pomegranates, and the cuckoos with their mates in the mango trees; the pigeons sang in the pīlu tree, the peacocks in the nīpa tree, the bees on the vines, and on the ground, the roosters.
14. Then a swarm of black bees desirous of honey began to hum like the conch shell of the Lord of eros in the charming bower made of blossoming vines and containing a bed made of lotus flowers.
15. A swarm of joyous female honey bees, intoxicated with honey, hummed like the auspicious cymbals of the god of love in order to awaken Govinda.
16. A flock of parrots repeatedly sang forth a loud “kuhu-u” on the fifth note of the scale like the vīṇā [the stringed instrument] of the mind-born one [eros].
17. In the mango tree, the flock of cuckoos seated by the sides of their lovers who were cooing in the intoxication of amorous love made a soft, seductive tone, their voices sharpened by tasting the flamelike, soft buds [of the mango tree], giving the impression of the sound of the sweet sitar of the lord of eros.
18. I suspect that the hyena of desire became angry at the wolves of love-pique and growled in the disguise of the warbling of pigeons, causing the forest animals of the bashfulness, morality, and fortitude of the cowherd girls to run away.
19. The peacocks, while awakening those two in the morning, cried out “kekā” as though asking who (ke) besides Kṛṣṇa can uproot that mountain of Rādhā’s composure and what (kā) other fetters [women] besides the fortunate Rādhā, though they be highly praised for their beauty, can control the maddened elephant Kṛṣṇa.
20. The rooster, too, like a brahman reciting the Veda in the morning, called forth the sounds: ‘ku ku-u ku-u-u ku-u-u-u,’ with short, long, and prolonged vowels.
21. Then, though awakened by the sounds of the birds, these two [Rādhā and Kṛṣṇa], each unaware that the other was awake, and disturbed at the prospect of breaking their intense embrace, craftily remained still with their eyes closed.
22. A learned pet sārikā [a type of bird] named Mañjubhāṣiṇī in a shiny golden cage, who was dear to the daughter of Vṛṣabhānu [Rādhā] and who had witnessed all of the love sports of the night, then addressed the couple in the early dawn.
23. “Victory, friend of Gokula! O, ocean of rapture, wake up! Leave your moonlike bed and awaken your beloved resting in your arms, who favors you with her love and is fatigued by excessive erotic play.
24. “This faint reddish glow, by nature cruel to young women, is speeding toward sunrise. Stealthily return home in haste, Lord of Vraja, from the bank of the daughter of Kalinda [the Yamunā River].
25. “O, lotus-face [Rādhā]! That you are sleeping at the end of the night is not your fault since your body is extremely languid from the exertion of love play. But look, virtuous lady, this eastern horizon, being unable to tolerate your happiness, has become reddened like [your rival] Candrāvalī.
26. “O, lotus-eyed! Night has gone; morning has appeared. The globe of the sun is on the rise! Now, friend, put away your attraction for that bed of cool blossoms.”
27. Then an excited parrot named Vicakṣaṇa, full of love for Kṛṣṇa and most proficient at eloquent speech, slowly recited a series of verses made charming by a combination of clear and sweet syllables, and effective at waking Mādhava [Kṛṣṇa].
28. “Victory, victory [to you], O source of the auspicity of Gokula, lotus of the honey bee young ladies of Vraja, O joy of Nanda increasing at every moment, Govinda, Acyuta, bestower of happiness on the surrendered!
29. “Dawn has come, lotus of the thirsty, beelike eyes of unlimited herdsmen. Return to your distant and dear village, the home of the most distinguished of all elders.
30. “O lotus-eyed one [Kṛṣṇa]! See how this eastern horizon, seeing the reddish sun desirous of rising, has become crimson like the crimson cloth, deeply dyed with saffron, worn by a wife [on the return of her traveling husband]. Therefore, Kṛṣṇa, give up your sleep in your hidden bower.
31. “Lady night, frightened by the sun, has hastily gone away along with the moon. Therefore, [you, too] quickly go from the bank of the river along with your beloved, who is like her [the night].
32. “The female goose has cast one eye toward the east, which is reddened by the rays of dawn, and the other quickly toward her departing lover. The fearful owls in their tree hollows have become silent. I fear the sun has arisen, O Kṛṣṇa! Give up your sleep.”
33-34. Then a soft-spoken sārī named Sūkṣmadhī, who was trained by Vṛndā, who had memorized many verses and who, drunk with the honey of great affection for Rādhā, was intent on chasing away her sleep, horripilating out of love, made speech dance on the stage of her tongue.
35. “As long as the people are not all traveling on the path to the pasture you can easily go to your home, sweetheart of the son of Nanda.
36. “O pretty one, therefore quickly get out of bed and go home. The lord of day whose pace is swift is moving toward Mount Sunrise.
37. “Give up your sleep and leave your bower bed. Return home, friend, and don’t be languid. Awaken your lover, but don’t awaken shame before your people. Those who are clever know which action is proper to the moment.”
38. Neither Kṛṣṇa, embraced by his beloved, nor his beloved, embraced by him, is asleep. Though this couple is troubled by the coming dawn they are not able easily to rise from their delicious bed.
39. With her buttocks bound by Kṛṣṇa’s knees, her breasts pressed against his chest, her face placed on his face, her arms resting around his neck and his arm as her pillow, though she is awake, the beloved [Rādhā] does not show it even slightly.
40. Her lover, too, is aware that he should quickly return to the village and is anxious to get up from bed. Yet, with his mind freed from such obligations by the fear of ending the pleasure of the tight embrace of Rādhā’s body, he does not move even one limb the slightest bit.
41. Then a parrot named Dakṣa, who was an expert at arranging the sports of Śrī Kṛṣṇa and who had trained thousands of other parrots, spread his wings out of a joy produced of love for him [Kṛṣṇa], and spoke from within the inner chamber of the bower:
42. “While your mother has yet to arise and say: ‘My child is still sleeping, fatigued by wandering around the forests. Therefore, the churning of curds should not be done loudly,’ you should quickly return unnoticed to your bedroom, Kṛṣṇa!
43. “You know for certain that your cows, Kālindī and the others, with unmoving ears and raised faces, their eyes turned toward your path out of enthusiasm to see you, are calling their thirsty calves with their ‘moos’ and are sinking down because of the pain produced by the weight of their udders.
44. “Quickly return before that anxious Paurṇamāsī, having finished her morning duties, enters your bedroom with your mother to see you.”
45. Then Hari, because of the words of the parrot, became anxious to return quickly to the cowherd village and, quietly withdrawing his limbs from the body of his beloved, sat up.
46. Now their previously awakened girlfriends were watching, along with Vṛndā, with their faces pressed to the openings of the lattices of the bower, the tender actions of the couple in the early morning.
47. A peahen named Sundarī, excited by great love for Rādhā, left her lover and came from the kadamba tree to the courtyard of the love cottage.
48. Then a peacock called Tāṇḍavika quickly descended from the kadamba tree and, spreading his tail, danced joyfully, filled with Hari.
49. After that a doe called Raṅgiṇi suddenly left her lover and with a joyful heart came quickly from the base of the mango tree to the door of the bower, fixing her eyes, which were quivering with love, on the lotus faces of the lords of her life [Rādhā and Kṛṣṇa].
50. At that time, a deer of Hari named Suraṅga, who gave him [Hari] great pleasure, arrived at the bower from the mango tree and fixed his eyes on Kṛṣṇa’s face, his body free of languor.
51. When the Lord rose up and sat on the bed, he drew his slim lover, whose eyes were closed in pretended sleep, to his lap with his arms and observed her sweetness carefully.
52. Acyuta [Kṛṣṇa] with a faint smile drank in with his eyes the face of his dear one, which was like a morning lotus. Her rolling eyes were like wag-tails [a bird], and the flowing locks of her hair surrounding her forehead were like a network of black bees.
53. Watching his lover moving all her clasped fingers and her two arms and stretching her body, and seeing the splendor of her teeth appear through her waking yawns, Mukunda felt joy.
54. Seeing his love-exhausted lover in the early morning light resting face up on his lap, her face faintly smiling through a soft, feigned weeping, the end of her braid half undone, wearing a crushed flower garland and a torn necklace, opening again and again her languid, rolling eyes, which were anxious to look upon his face, the Lord of Vraja [Kṛṣṇa] experienced unequaled joy.
55. If torpid lightning were to achieve permanence in the midst of a new rain cloud, then it would have been exactly like the image of Śrī Rādhā, whose body, like a golden lotus, being languid because of the exertion of intense love making, rested in the lap of her lover whose color is that of a shining tamāla tree [greyish blue].
56. Seeing the face of Hari with his glistening crocodile earrings, his sweet, gentle, broadening smile, his eyes dull with intoxication, his small curls of hair having the fragrance of lotuses, and lips with cuts made by her own teeth and blackened with the coryllium of her eyes, the lotus-eyed one [Rādhā] desired to make love again.
57. Then Kṛṣṇa also, seeing the faintly smiling face of his lover with her eyes slightly closed, their flirtatious movements inhibited by the shyness caused by seeing one another, again became intensely aroused.
58. Raising the back of her head with his left hand and her chin with his right, he repeatedly kissed his beloved’s face whose cheeks were brightened by a smile and whose throat was curved.
59. She, though immersed in an ocean of happiness at the touch of her lover’s lips, by resisting his hands, wincing slightly and saying softly: “don’t, don’t,” with a choked voice increased the delight of the watching eyes of her girlfriends.
60. Then, apprehensive because of the imminent, unavoidable dawn, her friends, smiling with joy, entered the bower, which was filled with the sounds of buzzing bees, teasing their friend [Rādhā] and encouraging one another.
61. She, seeing that her friends, with smiling faces and roving eyes, had come near, got up from the lap of her lover, doubling his pleasure.
62. Having gotten up quickly, she hurriedly took the yellow upper cloth [of Kṛṣṇa] and covered her body. Then Rādhā, looking into her girlfriends’ embarrassed faces, sat down by her lover’s side.
63. Observing their two dear friends before them, they repeatedly felt pleasure. The couple’s lips bore cuts from biting each other; they were languid from making love; their bodies were marked with scratches; the lines of their makeup had run; their clothes were unfastened; their hair was disheveled; and their necklaces and garlands were torn.
64. Their bed told them of the nature of the lovers’ sports. In the middle it was soiled with the unguent and saffron from Acyuta’s body. Its two sides were adorned with the red lac of Rādhā’s feet and it was spotted with drops of coryllium and particles of sandal and vermilion.
65. Her friends saw that the bed, which was the site of a collection of crushed flowers and spotted with betal, red lac, and coryllium, and bore the clear signs of the lovers’ sports, was in the same condition as the body of their friend [Rādhā].
66. They savored with their eyes the restless lips of Hari, about to speak a few words of wit, and the lotuslike face of the beautiful one [Rādhā], which was lowered out of bashfulness.
67. Showing them his chest, Hari said with a wink, hoping to see the sweetness of a medley of emotions on his beloved’s face:
68. “Ladies, look how Rādhā [the asterism of that name], seeing that her lover the moon will depart at dawn and becoming fearful of separation from him, has drawn hundreds of moon lines on the canvas of the sky as if out of a desire to see him.”
69. When Kṛṣṇa said this, she saw her friends in front of her laughing, and, wincing her trembling eyes, wrinkling raised eyebrows, and expanding spotless cheeks, she looked at her lover as though striking him with her crooked, side-long glances.
70. Rādhā’s gaze was full of the joy of wanton sport, her eyes slightly closed and, around the edges, tearful and reddish. Possessing a somewhat startled and tremulous quality from shyness and doubt, and bent from the weight of her jealousy, that intensely smiling gaze in which the pupils of her eyes blossomed on seeing the face of her lover increased the pleasure of her beloved’s eyes.
71. Their friends thus tasted the sweetness of the early morning amorous agitation of those two, who were in this way submerged in an ocean of the happiness of sacred love for each other, and, becoming intoxicated with joy, forgot the duties that were appropriate for that time.
72. Seeing the couple absorbed in an ocean of the ambrosia of play and their friends, too, blinded by the intoxication of affection, Vṛndā, fearing the coming of morning, signaled a sārī who knew the meaning of her sign language.
73. The sārikā named Śubhā, who helps awaken Rādhikā and who prevents [Rādhā’s] shame before her elders, fear of her husband, and ridicule from society, said:
74. “Your husband’s mother will get up from her bed and harangue you with: ‘Oh Rādhā, your husband will return now from the cowshed with loads of milk. Get up, get up and perform the auspicious household rites in the house.’ Before that you must most secretly return to your bedroom from this bower, my lotus-eyed friend.
75. “Friend, the stars who have variously sported the entire night with their husband [the moon] have dissolved into the veil of the sky. You too, sincere one, must return from the bower to your house.
76. “The path of the moon is reddened by the rays of the sun; the roads of the king are now occupied by crowds of people. Give up your fascination with the path to the bower. The path to the village is the auspicious one now.
77. “Kṛṣṇa, her husband’s mother, whose heart is soiled by the mud of suspicion, mistrusts her. Her fault-finding husband is very caustic and lives up to his name Abhimanyu [“the Angry One”]. Her rotten sister-in-law, too, is hot-tempered and speaks abusively to her. What’s more, dawn is here and still you haven’t released this unassuming woman.”
78. Rādhā’s heart was like the milk-ocean disturbed by the churning of Mount Mandara at the words of the sārī. With her eyes wandering about like baby fish and saddened by her immanent separation [from Kṛṣṇa], she then got up from the bed.
79. Kṛṣṇa also, seeing that the eyes in the beautiful face of the daughter of Vṛṣabhānu were agitated with fear, took his lover’s fine, blue cloth and quickly got up from the bed.
80. With their clothes thus switched with one another, these two, full of anxiety, came out of the bower holding each other’s hands.
81. Holding Rādhā’s hand in his left hand and his flute in his right, Kṛṣṇa left the bower shining like a cloud embraced by a bolt of lightning.
82. One girlfriend brought the golden pitcher, another the fan with the golden handle. Someone picked up the beautiful mirror, another the pretty jar of saffron and sandal. Someone else carried the jewel-inlaid vessel of betel nut and another the parrot in the cage. In this way some of the girlfriends left the bower cottage with joyful hearts.
83. Another girlfriend collected the ivory and gold box of cinnabar with the sapphire lid which was shaped like the dark-nippled breast of a pregnant woman and, softly smiling, left the bower.
84. Someone else joyfully gathered together the shining pearls that had fallen from the necklace broken during the embraces of the lovers and, tightly tying them up in the border of her cloth, left the bower cottage.
85. Ratimañjarī quickly picked up from the bed the earrings that fell off during the love sports and, leaving the bower, put them back in the ears of her mistress [Rādhā].
86. The dear playmate, Rūpamañjarī, collected Rādhā’s blouse from the edge of the bed and, after leaving the bower, secretly returned it to her girlfriend.
87. The female servant, Guṇamañjarī, took the spittoon and, dividing the chewed betel nut from it among the girlfriends, left the bower.
88. Mañjulālī gathered from the bed the garlands and sandal which fell from the couple’s bodies and, distributing some to all the girlfriends, also left.
89. Then, noticing in front of them that the dearest one [Kṛṣṇa] was wearing on his body [Rādhā’s] cloud-colored cloth and that their joyful girlfriend was
wearing [Kṛṣṇa’] yellow cloth on hers, the girlfriends began to giggle, covering their faces with their hands, and, glancing all around and at each other, they were filled with delight.
90. Seeing indications of the laughter of their friends, those two, their blossoming eyes fixed on each other’s faces, absorbed in a boiling ocean of the joy of sacred love, became like figures drawn in a picture.
91. The lovely lady was unable to recognize her own dark blue silk cloth clinging to the dark-complexioned body of her dear one, and, Hari, too, did not recognize his large yellow silk cloth covering his dearest’s body, [which looked] like milk in a golden conch shell.
92. Then Lalitā, angry at the obstacle to the lovers’ tasting of the nectar of their sports, censuring the coming dawn, said to her friend:
93. “You see this dawn, Rādhā! Because of breaking up the sport and love making of the best of women at daybreak, his two legs have been lost through leprosy; yet he still does not quit. The saying that one’s own nature is difficult to change is certainly true.”
94. At that, casting her eyes, which were reddened out of anger at the interruption of her love games, at the sky ruddy with dawn, the daughter of Vṛṣabhānu, who speaks softly and sweetly, said, smiling at the sarcasm of Lalitā:
95. “This one [the sun] sets and, crossing, even without legs, the entire sky in half an instant, rises again. If fate had given him legs there would be no question of night at all!”
96. Seeing the charming daybreak and enjoying the ambrosia of her words, Mukunda, intoxicated with joy and forgetful of returning to the village, said to the queen of his heart:
97. “See how this eastern direction, seeing the sun approaching at dawn, his body reddened by association with the other directions, has become crimson out of envy like a woman in love who sees her lover arrive at dawn after having been enjoyed by another woman.
98. “ ‘Look, intoxicated one [a nearby lily], your beloved, the lord of the twice-born [the moon], who though peaceful is a destroyer of the darknesses of all people, has gone to the west [or, by double entendre, has drunk wine] and has suddenly and completely fallen down.’ For this reason, I’m afraid, the lily covers her face with her closing petals, embarrassed by the laughing of the lotus, who is now exultant because of association with her own lover [the sun].
99. “Seeing the destruction of darkness at night by the moon, these dark cuckoos are frightened [for their own safety] and call out at dawn ‘kuhū,’ for Kuhū, the moonless night that occurs when the sun has been devoured by eclipse because it is a supporter of the moon.
100. “The forest is filled with joy because of uniting with her lover, Spring, and it is as though the female pigeon, maddened by love, shrieks in ecstasy on the pretext of hooting.
101. “Look over there, moon-faced! A wandering bumble bee, his coat turned tawny from playing among the white water lilies, is following a female bee who spent the night in the whorl of a lotus and who is now curtsying to him.
102. “A female ruddy goose, thinking that her lover has arrived, kisses with her beak a red lotus made twice as red by the rays of dawn.
103. “Sweet-voiced one, this goose named Kalasvana, noticing us, has left his mate, though she wants to make love, and has come to the bank of the river before us, his wings spread in pleasure.
104. “Look, lotus-faced! His mate, moaning sweetly in passion, picks up with her beak a lotus stalk, half-eaten and left behind by her husband. She is a goose named Tuṇḍikerī, and follows her lover with her eyes fixed on your lotus face.
105. “Moving through the tops of sandal trees, bearing the fragrance of lotuses and teaching the dance of love to the dancing-girl-like vines, the wind, who sports around water, destroys fatigue, and carries away the net of perspiration from the best of women and their lovers, is blowing.”
106. Seeing that the Lord and his lady, who were engrossed in the sport of fine speech, had forgotten about returning to their homes and also that their girlfriends, brightened by smiles, were intoxicated with joy, the mistress of the forest (Vṛndā) became troubled by fear of the daybreak.
107. Then, in a tree, an aged monkey matron named Kakkhaṭī, who was versed in the sign language of Vṛndā and who knew the time of day, recited a verse:
108. “Daybreak, a female ascetic, clothed in red with matted locks (jaṭila) and praised by the good, has arrived, spreading above the rays of the sun.” [Or, by double entendre: Jaṭilā (the mother-in-law of Rādhā) clothed in red, who is praised by the quarrelsome and performs austerity (early bath) at daybreak, has arrived, spreading her cloth in the sun (to dry).]
109. Thus the two best of the village of cowherds, Kṛṣṇa and the girl with the choicest body, becoming filled with dread on hearing of the crooked Jaṭilā, became fearful and, though they felt a strong desire for making love, departed [from the bower].
110. Their girlfriends then, seeing the frightened couple moving off down their respective forest paths, pulling up their falling garments, locks of hair, and garlands, and trembling because of the name “Jaṭilā,” became startled and scattered in different directions.
111. Kṛṣṇa, thinking that the friends of Candrāvalī [Rādhā’s rival] were on his left, that the cowherds were in front of him, and that the crooked Jaṭilā was coming up behind him, and being anxious to watch his fearful lover moving off to his right, returned to the village, his neck turning every which way as he cast his eyes in one direction and then another.
112. His mistress [Rādhā], fearing Jaṭilā’s pursuit and yet afflicted by carrying the weight of her buttocks and breasts, returned to the village, charmingly alternating between quickness and slowness, holding on to her clothes and flowing hair with her hands.
113. Rūpamañjarī, desiring to bring her [Rādhā] safely to her house, seated her in the chariot of her own [Rūpamañjari’s] mind and then followed her, covering the path with a curtain of her eyes, which were dark and restless because of fear and love.
114. Ratimañjarī, too, followed her [Rādhā], warding off intruders with the arrows of her darting glances, shot in all directions, and with the palpitations of her heart, troubled by fear, which lead the way like an advance guard of soldiers.
115. Though not afraid, [Rādhā and Kṛṣṇa] stepped very timidly across their own courtyards, their delicate eyes fixed on the doors of their elders, very stealthily entered their own rooms and fell asleep in their own beds, their minds filled with exhaustion.
116. Like the Vedas who, at each cosmic dissolution, return to the Lord when Acyuta, having completed his amusement, goes to sleep in his own abode, the highly qualified girlfriends, who are expert at expanding the Lord’s sports and whose movements cannot be traced, returned to their own homes.
117. Thus ends the first chapter, entitled: “A Sketch of the Love Sport in the Forest Bowers at the End of Night,” in the poem, The Ambrosia of the Sport of Govinda, which is born out of the boon of Raghunātha Bhaṭṭa, inspired in the association of Śrī Jīva, encouraged by the capable Raghunāthadāsa, and a result of service to that honeybee at the lotuslike feet of Caitanya, Śrī Rūpa.
CHAPTER TWO
1. I seek shelter in Rādhā, for whom, having been bathed and adorned, the matron of Vraja [Yaśodā] sends in the morning and who, at Yaśodā’s house, cooks the morning meal along with her friends and then tastes Kṛṣṇa’s remnants. I also seek shelter in Kṛṣṇa who, awakened by his mother, milks the cows in the barn and then, after bathing, eats breakfast with his friends.
2. Thus, in the early morning, Paurṇamāsī, radiant with the moon of sacred love, finished her morning rites and arrived early at the compound of Nanda, her heart agitated with love for Acyuta [Kṛṣṇa].
3. The house of the lord of Vraja [Nanda] has a beautiful courtyard sprinkled with drops of milk scattered from the churning of butter and adorned by people filled with sacred love. Its interiors are decorated with many types of jewels, and overflow with waves of milk. In a shining, serpentlike bed, sleeping happily, lies Acyuta. Seeing this dwelling so much like the fabled White Isle of Viṣṇu, she [Paurṇamāsī] became filled with joy.
4. Noticing her arrival like the radiance of austerity itself, the exalted queen of Vraja [Yaśodā], who was experienced and knew etiquette, rose up in joy.
5. “Come in, venerable lady, praised by all of Vraja. You are welcome. I offer obeisance to you.” Saying this, Yaśodā bowed down near her, and Paurṇamāsī, in response, embraced the mother of Mukunda.
6. After pleasing Yaśodā with blessings, she [Paurṇamāsī], anxious to see Govinda, inquired about the well-being of her husband, sons, and herds.
7. The queen of Vraja wished her well also and, full of longing, entered the bedroom of her son along with the excited lady.
8. Meanwhile Gobhaṭa, Bhadrasena, Subala, Śrīstokakṛṣṇa, Arjuna, Śrīdāma, Ujjvala, Dāma, Kiṅkiṇī, Sudāma, and the other friends of Kṛṣṇa came hurriedly from their homes and, joining joyfully with Baladeva in the courtyard, began to call, “Kṛṣṇa, get up! Come to your favorite cowpen.”
9. Madhumaṅgala, too, exclaimed, hee, why it’s dawn! How can our buddy still be sleeping, friends? I shall wake him,” and got up from his own bed.
10. Madhumaṅgala chattered, “Get up, friend, get up,” and entered the bedroom of Hari, wobbling from his own drowsiness.
11. Though the Lord wanted to get up, and his sleep had been driven away by Madhumaṅgala’s words, with his eyes rolling about, he was unable to rise for a moment.
12. In the midst of a room like an ocean of pure milk, on a bed shining with countless jewels, is it Hari’s mother trying to awaken him or is it the Veda at the end of the universal dissolution?
13. His mother placed her left hand on the bed and, bending over slightly, placing her weight on it, touched Kṛṣṇa’s body with her lotuslike right hand. Then, sprinkling his bed with tears of joy and a flow of milk from her breasts, she said, “Wake up, dear, get up quickly. Give up your sleepiness and show us your lotuslike face.
14. “Though the cows have been with their calves for a while now, without seeing you they will not give their milk. Even so, your father, afraid of disturbing the happiness of your sleep, has gone alone to the cowpen without calling you, dear.”
15. She said, “Get up! Let me wash your face. Is this Balarāma’s cloth here on your body?” She removed the blue cloth from his body and then said to the elder woman:
16. “Ooh, holy mother, look at my son’s body, which is as soft as a lotus! It has been wounded by the sharp fingernails of his restless and over-excited playmates in their wrestling matches and colored by minerals from the ground. I’m so distressed. What can I do?”
17. When he heard those words of his mother, which were heavy with affection, Murāri’s eyes began to quiver because of his shame.
18. Then the brahman boy, Madhumaṅgala, who was skillful at causing laughter, suspecting Kṛṣṇa’s discomfort, said to Kṛṣṇa’s mother, whose heart was moved by affection:
19. “It’s true, mother! Even though I forbade them, his friends [by double entendre: girlfriends] who are anxious for play [erotic sport], have constantly enjoyed [themselves] with this very greedy [lusty] boy in the forest bowers.”
20. Then Kṛṣṇa, displaying his boyish charm, repeatedly opened his eyes with effort and, seeing his mother in front of him, closed them again with a smile on his lotuslike face.
21. Hearing the words of the queen of Vraja and seeing Kṛṣṇa’s boyish behavior, which concealed a mood different from his mother’s, Paurṇamāsī smilingly said to him:
22. “Since you are tired from endless, magnificent sports with your numerous friends [and girlfriends], it is fitting, my good boy, that you should be sleeping now. But the calves, even though they are thirsty, will not drink their milk without seeing you, lord of the clans of Vraja. Therefore, wake up!
23. “Get up, quickly, son of the lord of the cowherd settlement! See how your elder brother along with your friends, though wanting to go to the cowpen, is waiting for you in the courtyard with the calves.”
24. Extending his hands tightened into fists and stretching out his body which was languid from rapture and as blue as a tamāla tree, he sat up, creating a web of flashes from his teeth as he yawned.
25. Seated on edge of the cot with his feet placed on the ground, he said, stammering with a coming yawn, “My venerable mother, obeisance to you.”
26. Then his mother, who was overwhelmed with immense, mature affection for him, straightened out and tied into a topknot his soft, disheveled hair, more beautiful than a mass of black collyrium, in which the flowers had slipped down.
27. From a nearby golden pot his mother brought some water in her hands, gaily washed her son’s face, in which his eyes still rolled with drowsiness, and dried it with the end of her cloth.
28. Then, holding Madhumaṅgala’s hand in his right hand and his flute in the other, Kṛṣṇa, followed by his mother and the elderly woman, came out of his bedroom into the courtyard.
29. His wide-eyed friends, excited by love, surrounded him at once, some taking hold of his hands, others his clothes, and still others his arms.
30. His mother said to him: “Now, dear, go to the cowpen and after feeding the calves and milking the cows, come home quickly for breakfast.”
31. Thus, being sent off by her, he started immediately, along with his friends, toward the shed of his cows. On the way the jocular brahman boy [Madhumaṅgala] said, gazing up at the sky.
32. “Look, my friend. Seeing the sun spreading the nets of his rays in the lake of the sky like a fisherman, the small, glittering fishlike stars, becoming frightened, have disappeared in all directions.
33. “And the deer-marked moon, seeing the sun, an eater of game with an enormous appetite, rising, has entered a cave in the mountain of the horizon to save its deer.
34. “Look there. It is as if the sky is a woman, shorn of her starry ornaments, whose fetus, the moon, having reached its full term, is dropping out and whose cries in labor are disguised as the hooting of pigeons in the dawn.
35. “Hey, look over there! This lotus flower seems to be smiling now, after seeing the ocean-born [moon], which, despite being its sibling, is unfriendly, moving out of the sky after being defeated by its friend, your visage, moon-faced one.”
36. Thus, hearing the funny words of Madhumaṅgala, the boys of the herdsmen, themselves protected by the cowherd men, each entered his own barn, laughing.
37. Gopāla, too, with Balarāma and Madhumaṅgala, entered his barn like the moon entering the night sky along with Venus and Jupiter.
38. Balarāma, surrounded by the cows, appeared to the gods like the mythical elephant, Airāvata, surrounded by the massive boulders of Mount Kailāśa.
39. Acyuta, moving amidst the cows, which were scattered about with their faces turned up, appeared to the people like a bumblebee moving among a cluster of blooming lotuses.
40. “Hee hee, Gaṅgā, Godāvarī, Śavalī, Kālindī, Dhavalā! Hee hee, Dhūmrā, Tuṅgī, Bhramarī, Yamunā, Haṃsī, Kamalā! Hee hee, Rambhā, Campā, Kariṇī, Hariṇī!” The moon of Vraja [Kṛṣṇa] repeatedly called the cows by their names.
41. Squatting down and placing the milk pail between his knees, he milked some cows himself, others by means of his helpers, and yet others he let feed their calves, pleasing them with scratching. Thus, the son of Nanda enjoys giving pleasure to his cows in the morning.
Pātālakhaṇḍa of the Padma Purāṇa
CHAPTER 83. DESCRIPTION OF THE DAILY SPORT OF KṚṢṆA IN VṚNDĀVANA
Nārada said: “You have told me, guru, everything I wanted to know relating to the Lord. Now I want to hear about the unsurpassed path of contemplation.” (1)
Śiva replied: “You question me well, sage, desiring the best for the whole world. I will tell you about it even though it is a secret; therefore, listen [to what] I say. The servants, friends, parents, and lovers of Hari [Kṛṣṇa], all eternal and full of good qualities, live here [in Vṛndāvana], best of sages. Just as they are described in the Purāṇas in their revealed sport, so do they exist in the land of Vṛṇdāvana in their eternal sport. He comes and goes between forest and cowherder village eternally, and herds cows with his friends without the killing of demons. Also his lovers, thinking themselves his paramours, please their dearest in secret. (2-6)
“One should think of oneself there among them in the form of an enchanting woman, possessed of youth and beauty, just past puberty, conversant with the many arts and crafts suitable for Kṛṣṇa’s enjoyment, but who, though requested by Kṛṣṇa, is opposed to enjoyment with him, a follower of Rādhā intent upon her service, loving Rādhā even more than Kṛṣṇa, bringing about, out of love and with great care, the meetings of those two each day, and overwhelmed with the joys of their service. Visualizing oneself in this way, one should perform service there beginning from the period of Brahmā [one-and-a-half hours before sunrise] until late at night.” (7-11)
Nārada said: “I want to hear of Hari’s daily sport as it really is. Without knowing that sport how, indeed, can Hari be served in one’s mind?” (12)
Śiva said: “I do not know that sport of Hari as it really is, Nārada. Go from here to see Vṛndādevī; she will describe the sport to you. Not far from here, near Keśitīrtha, lives that servant of Govinda [Kṛṣṇa] surrounded by her friends.” (13-14)
Sūta [the bard] said: “Being advised thus, Nārada circumambulated Śiva and, overjoyed, bowed repeatedly to him. Then that truest of sages went to Vṛndā’s residence. Vṛndā too, seeing Nārada, bowed repeatedly and said: “Best of sages, how is it that you have come here?’ ” (15-16)
Nārada said: “I want to know from you of the daily deeds of Hari. Describe them for me from the beginning, if I am fit [to hear them], beautiful one!” (17)
Vṛndā said: “Even though it is secret I will tell you, Nārada, [for] you are a devotee of Kṛṣṇa. You, however, should not reveal it; this is the greatest of mystery of mysteries. (18)
“In the midst of beautiful Vṛṇdāvana, which is adorned with fifty bowers, in a bower of desire-trees, in a cottage of divine jewels they [the couple, Rādhā and Kṛṣṇa] are asleep on a bed, intensely embracing each other. Though they are awakened after a while by birds, who follow my orders, they feel such joy in their intense embrace and such distress at [the thought of] breaking it, that they do not want to get up from bed even a little. Then, being repeatedly awakened from all sides by groups of sārikās and parrots with various speeches, they rise from bed. Seeing the couple sitting up, their joyful girlfriends then enter and serve them as is suitable for that time. Once again, at the words of the sārikās, the couple get up from their bed and return to their homes, filled with fear and anxiety. (19-24)
“Being awakened at daybreak by his mother, Kṛṣṇa, along with [his brother] Baladeva, rises from bed and after brushing his teeth goes, with his mother’s permission, to the cowshed surrounded by his friends. Rādhā, too, is awakened by her friends, O sage, and rises from her bed. After brushing her teeth, she rubs oil into her body. Then going to the bathing platform, she is bathed by her servants. She [next] goes to her dressing room where her friends decorate her with various shining ornaments, fragrances, garlands, and unguents. Then she, after carefully begging permission from her mother-in-law, is called, along with her friends, by Yaśodā [Kṛṣṇa’s mother] to cook fine food [at Kṛṣṇa’s house].” (25-29)
Nārada said: “Why does Yaśodā call the lady [Rādhā] to cook, when there are good ladies, headed by Rohinī, [at Kṛṣṇa’s house] who are cooks?” (30)
Vṛdnā said: “Great sage, previously a boon was given to her by Durvāsas; so have I heard before from the mouth of Kātyāyānī. ‘Whatever you cook, lady, shall be, by my grace, as sweet as nectar and shall increase the duration of life of its eater.’ Thus the good lady Yaśodā, fond of her son, daily calls her [thinking], ‘In this way may my son be long-lived through his desire for tasty foods.’ Hearing that she [Rādhā] should go to the house of Nanda, and being permitted [to go], she too is pleased, and she goes there along with her friends, and cooks. (31-34)
“Kṛṣṇa also, having milked some cows and had others milked by his people, returns at the request of his father to his house, surrounded by friends. Having rubbed his body with oil, he is bathed happily by his servants. Wearing clean clothes, garlanded, his body anointed with sandalwood, appearing with his hair parted in two above his neck and forehead, beautified by the curls and a sandalwood mark on his forehead shaped like the moon, his arms and hands shining with bracelets, armlets, and jeweled rings, with a pearl necklace shining on his chest and alligator-shaped earrings, he, being repeatedly called by his mother, takes the hand of a friend and enters the dining room, following [his brother] Baladeva. He then, along with his brother and friends, enjoys different kinds of foods, making his friends laugh with a variety of jokes and laughing along with them. After eating and rinsing his mouth, he rests for a while on a shining cot, dividing up and chewing the betel nut given him by his servants. (35-41)
“Kṛṣṇa, dressed as a cowherder, with the herd before him, is followed down the path [to the pastures] affectionately by all the residents of Vraja. Bowing to his father and mother and with glances at [the rest of] the gathering, he turns them back as is proper, and heads toward the forest. After entering the forest, he plays with his friends for a while. He happily amuses himself with various games in that forest. Then, tricking all of them, he goes joyfully, accompanied by only two or three dear friends, to the tryst eager to meet his dear one. (42-45)
“She [Rādhā], too, after watching Kṛṣṇa go to the forest, returns home and out of a desire to be with her dear one, she, on the pretext of worshiping the sun, fools her elders and goes to the forest in order to gather flowers. Thus, the two with great effort meet in the forest and spend the day there happily in various games. Sometimes they are seated on a swing together and are pushed by their friends. Sometimes Hari [Kṛṣṇa], his flute having dropped from his hand and being hidden by his lover, is scolded by his “insulted” girlfriends as he searches for it. They keep him laughing with many jokes there. Sometimes happily entering a forested stretch that is blown by a spring breeze, they sprinkle each other with sandal and flowered waters, using sprinklers, and smear each other with ointments. The girlfriends, too, sprinkle them and are sprinkled in return by the couple throughout those groves filled with spring breezes. (46-52)
“O twice-born, sometimes the couple along with their friends become tired from the many games suited to those various moments and, finding the base of a tree, most true of sages, they sit on shining seats and drink honey wine. Then, becoming intoxicated by that honey wine, their eyes drooping with sleep, they take hold of each others’ hands and fall to the arrows of desire. Desiring to make love they enter a bower along the path, their words and minds faltering, and they enjoy themselves there like leaders of elephants. The friends too, being intoxicated with honey, their eyes laden with sleep, all lie down in pretty bowers all around, and Kṛṣṇa too, the powerful, visits all of them simultaneously with separate bodies, being repeatedly urged on by his dearest. After giving them pleasure as the king of elephants does his female elephants, he goes with his dearest and them to a pond in order to play. The couple with their friends enjoy themselves splashing water on each other. They then are adorned with clothes, garlands, sandal paste, and shining ornaments right there on the shore of that pond in a shining, bejeweled house. (53-60)
“I arrange fruit and roots in advance, sage, and Hari eats first, served by his beloved. He then goes, accompanied by two or three ladies, to a bed made of flowers. Being served with betel nut, a yak-tail fan, foot massages, and so forth, he, smiling and thinking of his dear one, is pleased by them. Rādhikā, too, when Hari is asleep, though her very life is with him, eats his remnants, among her friends, her heart pleased. Then after eating a little, she goes to the bedroom to gaze on the lotuslike face of her lover like a cakora bird gazing on the moon, and the ladies there offer her his chewed betel. She eats the betel, dividing it among her friends. Kṛṣṇa, covered with a cloth, wanting to hear their uninhibited conversation with each other, though not asleep pretends to be and they, [learning the truth] somehow from inference, make faces, bite their tongues with their teeth, and look at each others’ faces. As though dissolved in an ocean of embarrassment, they do not say anything for a while. Then after a moment they pull the cloth from his body and say, ‘A fine sleep you’ve gone to,’ making him laugh and laughing themselves. (61-69)
“Thus, the two, enjoying themselves with their friends with various humorous remarks, taste the happiness of sleep for a while, truest of sages. They then sit happily among their friends on a broad, shining seat and, wagering each other’s garlands, kisses, embraces, and clothes, play dice with love amidst the banter of merriment. His dear one scolds him when, though beaten, he says, ‘I have won,’ and begins to take her garlands and things. And after being scolded, Kṛṣṇa with his hand on his lotus-face becomes despondent and makes up his mind to go, saying: ‘If you have defeated me, lady, let what I wagered, kisses and so forth, be taken.’ She does just that. [He behaves like that] to see the furrowing of her brow and to hear her scolding speech. (70-75)
“Then, hearing both the words and calls of the parrots and sārīs, they, desiring to return home, leave that place. Kṛṣṇa, taking leave of his lover, heads toward the cows, and she goes to the temple of the sun along with her circle of friends. Going off a little ways, Hari turns back and, putting on the disguise of a brahman, goes to the temple of the sun. There he is invited by the girlfriends and helps them worship the sun with fabricated Vedic hymns pregnant with humor. Then the clever girls, recognizing him as their lover, become absorbed in an ocean of joy and lose all track of self and other. In this way they spend two and a half periods [seven and a half hours], sage, and then they [the cowherder girls] go to their houses and Kṛṣṇa goes to the cows. (76-81)
“Kṛṣṇa joins with all his friends and, collecting together the cows from all over, returns to the village joyfully playing his flute, sage. Then Nanda and all the other cowherders, including the women and children, hearing the sound of Hari’s flute and seeing the surface of the sky spread with a veil of cow dust, give up all their activities and go toward Kṛṣṇa, anxious to see him. On the main road, at the gate of the village, where all the residents of the village [wait], Kṛṣṇa too approaches them [and greets them] properly in succession: with looks, touches, words, smiling glances, [he greets] the cowherder elders; with verbal and physical obeisance and prostrations, [he greets] his parents and Rohinī, Nārada; and with decorum through the indications of his side-long glances, [he greets] his beloved. Thus, after being suitably greeted by those residents of Vraja and after taking the cows into the cowshed, at the request of his parents, he goes home along with his brother. (82-89)
“After bathing and having something to eat and drink there, he, with the permission of his mother, goes again to the cowshed, desiring to milk the cows, and after milking some, having some milked, and having some watered, he who pursues hundreds of feelings returns home with his father. There along with his father, his uncles, their sons, and Balarāma, he eats varieties of foods, some chewed, some sucked, and so forth. Thinking of him, Rādhikā then, even before being asked, sends cooked foods to his house through her friends, and Hari, praising those dishes, enjoys them along with his father and the others. He then goes with them to the assembly hall, which is replete with bards and other performers. (90-93)
“The girlfriends who previously brought the food return with many of those dishes and some of Kṛṣṇa’s leftovers, sent by Yaśodā. Bringing it with them, they offer all to Rādhikā and she, then having eaten along with her friends, in proper order, waits surrounded by them, ready to meet her lover. I then send some friend from here who guides her to a house made of shining jewels in this bower of desire-trees near the Yamunā. Dressed in attire suitable for either a light or dark night, she departs surrounded by friends. (94-99)
“After watching various wondrous performances there [in the assembly hall], listening to beautiful songs of Kātyāyanī, and then pleasing them [the performers] with [gifts of] money, grains, and other things according to custom, Kṛṣṇa, honored by the people there, returns home with his mother and friends. When after feeding him his mother leaves, he comes here unnoticed, to the house appointed by his lover. Joining each other, those two sport here among the forests. For two and a half periods of the night [seven and a half hours] they enjoy various amusements headed by the circle dance (rāsa), the dance of love, and much laughter. The sleepy lovers enter the bower unnoticed by the birds, and alone fall asleep on an enchanting love-bed made of flowers, being served there by their personal servants. Thus, the entire daily activity of Hari has been told to you. Even sinners are liberated by hearing this, Nārada.” (100-105)
Nārada said: “Lady, there can be no doubt that I am fortunate to have been blessed by you, for, Hari’s daily sport has been revealed to me now.” (106)
Sūta said: “This said, after circumambulating her and being worshiped by her, Nārada, the best of sages, disappeared, brahman. I too, have made all this known in proper order. One should forever utter with care the unsurpassed pair of mantras.
“This was attained previously by Rudra from the lips of Kṛṣṇa. By him it was told to Nārada and Nārada told me. Now after performing purification I have told this to you. You, too, should keep this most amazing secret confidential.” (107-110)
Śaunaka said: “I have achieved my goal by your direct grace, guru, since you have revealed the secret of secrets to me.” (111)
Sūta said: “Devoting yourself to these truths and reciting the mantras day and night, no doubt you will attain to servitude of him without delay. I, too, brahman, go to the eternal abode of the Supreme in the company of the Guru of gurus, the daughter of Bhānu [Rādhā], and of the Lord of the cowherder girls.
“This most purifying account, great in might, was told by Maheśa [Śiva]. Those devoted human beings who hear it will go to the eternal realm of Acyuta. [This account] bestows fortune, fame, long life, health, desired objectives, success; causes the attainment of heaven and liberation, and destroys sin. Those human beings, intent on Viṣṇu, who read this regularly with devotion will not in any way return again from Viṣṇu’s realm.” (112-116)
So ends the glorification of Vṛṇdāvana, the eighty-third chapter in the Pātālakhaṇda, the fifth section of the great Purāṇa, the Padma.