Pradoṣa-kālīya-bhajana - Prema-vipralambha

In separation from Govinda, a single moment appears to me like an age, my eyes pour rain, and the entire world seems empty.

Śrīla Kṛṣṇadāsa Kavirāja explains: In anxious separation a day will not pass; each moment becomes an age. The eyes rain tears like monsoon clouds, and without Govinda all three worlds are void. Life burns like chaff in a smoldering fire, yet it will not depart.

O gopīs, what auspicious act did this flute perform? It drinks by itself the nectar of Dāmodara's lips that rightfully belongs to us, leaving only a trace. The rivers thrill so that lotuses bloom upon them, while the trees shed tears of joy like elders delighted at a worthy son.

Śrīla Bhaktivinoda Ṭhākura explains: O sakhī, what austerity did Kṛṣṇa's flute perform? Again and again it drinks the nectar of His mouth, meant for the gopīs. The rivers receive only the remnant; the trees shed tears as a father weeps when his virtuous son attains success.

Blessed indeed are these foolish deer. With their mates, they hear the sound of the flute and behold Nanda's son in His wondrous dress, then worship Him with offerings fashioned from their loving glances.

Śrīla Bhaktivinoda Ṭhākura explains: Seeing Kṛṣṇa's astonishing dress with their own eyes and hearing the song of His flute, the does worship Him with eyes filled with love. Together with the black deer, the female deer are blessed today.

When the rivers hear Mukunda's song, the currents of desire revealed by their whirlpools break their onward flow. With the arms of their waves they embrace Murāri's two feet, hold them still, and offer lotuses.

Śrīla Bhaktivinoda Ṭhākura explains: Ah, hearing Kṛṣṇa's song, the rivers become enchanted and turn back their rapid currents. Under cover of their waves they embrace His feet and offer lotuses to them.

O gentle girls, this mountain is surely the best servant of Hari. Thrilled by the touch of Rāma's and Kṛṣṇa's feet, Govardhana honors Them together with Their cowherd friends and cows by providing water, tender grass, caves, fruits, roots, and edible bulbs.

Śrīla Bhaktivinoda Ṭhākura explains: Govardhana is the greatest of Hari's servants, overwhelmed with joy at the touch of Rāma's and Kṛṣṇa's feet. He welcomes Kṛṣṇa, His friends, and the cows with water, caves, fruits, roots, and nourishing bulbs.

O sakhīs, as Kṛṣṇa and Balarāma lead the cows and cowherd boys from forest to forest, the generous, melodious notes of Their flutes extend friendship to every embodied being. How wonderful: moving creatures become motionless, while trees thrill with horripilation, showing marks like the ropes that bind the cows.

Śrīla Bhaktivinoda Ṭhākura explains: Accompanied by His friends and cows, generous Kṛṣṇa gives everyone the mood of friendship through the flute's song. He makes moving beings stand still and causes the trees to thrill. Unable to attain such a Kṛṣṇa, my heart is breaking. O sakhī, when will providence give Him to me?

O Lord whose heart melts for the fallen, O Lord of Mathurā, when shall I see You? My heart wanders in anguish because it cannot behold You. Beloved, what am I to do?

Śrīla Bhaktivinoda Ṭhākura prays: O tender-hearted Lord of the lowly, O Kṛṣṇa, Lord of Mathurā, when will You again grant Your sight? Unable to see that moonlike face, my afflicted heart suffers. O beloved, what shall I do now?

Alas, Creator, You have no mercy anywhere. Through friendship and love You unite embodied beings, but before their purpose is fulfilled You separate them without reason. Your play resembles the careless activity of a child.

Śrīla Bhaktivinoda Ṭhākura laments: O Creator, You possess no mercy at all. Why did You act so thoughtlessly, joining one embodied being to another in friendship and love, only to separate them before their longing was fulfilled? This affair is the play of a child.

Through His loving glances, gentle and enchanting words, playful smiles, embraces, and rāsa gatherings, entire nights passed for us like a single moment. O gopīs, now without Him, how shall we cross this boundless darkness?

Śrīla Bhaktivinoda Ṭhākura explains: Loving glances, lovely words, sweet smiles, embraces, and the rāsa ground made a night of Brahmā pass in one moment, yet satisfaction never came. Now separation from Kṛṣṇa has befallen us. How will the gopīs pass such days? They will drown and lose their lives in the ocean of sorrow.

When Mukunda, the enchanter of the gopīs' hearts, followed Gāndinī's son from Nanda's home to Mathurā, Rādhā in separation sank into the fathomless, obstructing waters of the river of anxiety, amid dense and violent whirlpools.

Śrīla Bhaktivinoda Ṭhākura explains: When the thief of the gopīs' hearts left Vraja for Mathurā with Akrūra, separated Rādhā fell into the bottomless waters of anxiety, filled with thick, swirling waves.

The ten conditions of separation are anxious thought, sleeplessness, agitation, emaciation, discoloration of the body, incoherent speech, illness, madness, delusion, and death.

Śrīla Bhaktivinoda Ṭhākura explains: Sleeplessness, agitation, anxiety, wasting and pallor, delirious speech, madness and illness, delusion, and death are the ten stages. Overpowered by them, Rādhā reached the furthest limit of sorrow.

Hari does not understand the wound caused by the severing of prema, nor does prema itself know what place is proper or improper. The god of love does not know how weak we are. No one understands the whole of another's pain, and life is restless and fleeting. Youth lasts only two or three days. Alas, Creator, what destination remains?

Śrīla Bhaktivinoda Ṭhākura presents the exchange: A sakhī says, "Be patient. The best of lovers will return; what is gained by such anguish?" Rādhā replies, "O sakhī, I can no longer see a path before me; the sickness born from broken prema has grown. Hari did not come from Mathurā to preserve this tender creeper, and prema itself did not know where it could fittingly dwell. Falling into the grave delusion of love for pitiless Kānu, I am struck again by the arrows of Madana. No one understands another's sorrow, life is unsteady, and the beauty of youth is passing. O fortunate one, will that jewel among lovers ever return to Vraja? Alas, Creator, what remedy can there be?"

What can we do here, and to whom can we speak? What has been done by hope is done. Tell some other blessed story. Alas, He lies within the heart: sweet, sweeter still, smiling, a festival for mind and eyes. Yet the poor, helpless thirst for Kṛṣṇa has hung there for so long.

Śrīla Bhaktivinoda Ṭhākura explains: Tell me now, what shall I do, and to whom shall I reveal my sorrow? I keep this body only in hope of Kṛṣṇa. Speak some other blessed subject that might make the heart peaceful, O sakhī, though even that will provide no remedy. Kṛṣṇa lies within the heart, smiling gently and sweetly, a great festival for mind and eyes. The hope of seeing Him has taken up permanent residence within me, yet that impoverished hope seems impossible to fulfill.

O Hari, friend of the shelterless and sole ocean of compassion, without the sight of You these days are empty and unfortunate. Alas, alas, how shall I pass them?

Śrīla Bhaktivinoda Ṭhākura prays: Without seeing Your face, terrible sorrow fills my heart. O friend of the lowly, ocean of mercy, how will this maidservant pass these fruitless days and nights? Tell me what remedy remains.

O divine Lord, O beloved, O sole friend of the world! O Kṛṣṇa, O restless one, O only ocean of compassion! O Nātha, O lover, O delight of my eyes! Alas, when will You again stand within my sight?

Śrīla Bhaktivinoda Ṭhākura cries: O Lord, O beloved of my life and only friend here, O Kṛṣṇa, restless ocean of grace, O my Nātha and lover, dearest to my eyes, when will You show Yourself again, friend of my life?

Is this Love's god himself, a circle of sweet radiance, sweetness embodied, nectar for mind and eyes, the one who loosens my braid, or the beloved of my life? This youthful boy now rises before my eyes.

Śrīla Bhaktivinoda Ṭhākura exclaims: Is this Kandarpa himself, a sphere of sweetness, or sweetness made visible? The honey of mind and eyes, my distant friend, the beloved of my life and very life of Vraja, Kṛṣṇa has appeared before my eyes in love, and life has returned to my body. All sorrow has fled, my heart is cooled, and, O sakhī, I have recovered my lost treasure.

Śauri then appeared among the gopīs, His lotus face smiling, wearing yellow cloth and a flower garland, the enchanter of the god of love himself.

Śrīla Bhaktivinoda Ṭhākura explains: Holding His flute, Hari stood before the gopīs, the beauty of His smiling lotus face revealed. Wearing a forest garland and yellow garments, He charms even Manmatha and captivates Rādhikā's body and mind.

O Lord of Gokula, for a long time steadfast souls have lived in sweet and profound Vraja with no hope but You. Holding friendship with You in Your adolescent age within their hearts, they await Your sight. Please appear before their eyes and surely acknowledge them.

Śrīla Bhaktivinoda Ṭhākura explains: Vraja-dhāma is filled with deep sweetness. There, steadfast saintly persons have long waited with the single hope of seeing You, O Hari. They have embraced Your youthful līlā within their hearts. Now show them mercy, become visible to their eyes, and perform Your pastimes there: this alone is my petition.

Within Mathurā's circle shines the blessed land of Vraja, surrounded by floods that release the fragrance of Your līlā-rasa and enriched by every Mathurā sweetness. There, encircled by us whose hearts are enchanted by the restless mood of the cowherd girls, play with the flute smiling upon Your lips.

Śrīla Bhaktivinoda Ṭhākura explains: In Mathurā-maṇḍala, adorned by all sweetness, lies the blessed land of Vṛndāvana. By Your inconceivable potency, O Kṛṣṇa, You manifest there the fragrance of Your eternal līlā. Take us and the other lovers absorbed in gopī-bhāva and intent upon Your romantic service; play there with us at every moment, O son of Vrajendra, sounding Your flute.

After a long time the gopīs regained the Kṛṣṇa they had desired. Because His sight had made them curse the maker of eyelids, they drew Him through their unblinking eyes into their hearts and fully embraced Him there. They attained a state difficult even for those joined to Him eternally.

Śrīla Bhaktivinoda Ṭhākura explains: The gopīs had waited for Kṛṣṇa in Vraja for a very long time. Finding the Lord of their lives at Kurukṣetra, they drew Him through the door of unblinking eyes into the dwelling of prema and embraced Him within the heart in enchantment. Ah, that nectarean bhāva is impossible for others and exceedingly rare even for His wedded queens. This purified-gold prema belongs to the gopīs alone and remains forever impossible even for the Lakṣmīs.

They said: O lotus-naveled Lord, great masters of yoga endowed with fathomless understanding meditate upon Your lotus feet within their hearts, and the fallen cling to them to climb out of the well of worldly existence. Although we remain householders, may those feet always rise within our minds.

Śrīla Bhaktivinoda Ṭhākura prays: O Kṛṣṇa, fortunate yogic masters of profound realization contemplate Your feet. Fallen souls grasp those feet as the means of rescue from the worldly well. But we are the cowherd women of Vraja, neither yogīs nor worldly householders; our entire household is centered upon You. My mind is Vṛndāvana. Keep Your feet there and fulfill this desire of mine.

Bhagavān approached the gopīs privately in that condition. Embracing them and asking about their welfare, He smiled and spoke.

Śrīla Bhaktivinoda Ṭhākura explains: Taking the gopīs into seclusion, Kṛṣṇa embraced them and spoke of the innermost truths of prema. Seeing the love between Kṛṣṇa and the gopīs, the ranks of queens were filled with wonder.

Devotion to Me enables living beings to attain immortality. By great fortune, your love for Me is such that it brings you to Me.

Śrīla Bhaktivinoda Ṭhākura explains: Prema-bhakti directed toward Me is supreme nectar. Through your affection, you remain ceaselessly engaged in My service.

At nightfall I remember Rādhā, dressed appropriately for a moonlit or moonless night, setting forth with Her companions on Vṛndā's instruction and through a messenger reaching the appointed wish-fulfilling-tree bower on the Yamunā's bank. I remember Kṛṣṇa in the cowherds' assembly, watching displays of many skills and virtues, then carefully put to bed by His affectionate mother. Afterward He quietly slips outside, longing for Rādhā's company, and reaches the kuñja.

Śrīla Bhaktivinoda Ṭhākura explains: On Vṛndā's instruction, Rādhā goes to the appointed kuñja beside the Yamunā, dressing in a way suitable for the bright or dark night and traveling joyfully with Her sakhīs. Hari sits in the cowherd assembly and watches many displays of talent. His mother carefully puts Him to bed, but, remembering His meeting with Rādhā, He secretly leaves and reaches the bower. I remember this.

Thus ends the practice for the seventh period in Śrī Bhajana-rahasya.