Fifth Sarga: Forenoon Pastimes

Fifth Sarga

In the forenoon I remember Kṛṣṇa following the cows and His friends into the forest, with the people of the cowherd settlement following Him. Eager to meet Rādhā, He reached the bank of Her lake for that rendezvous. I also remember Rādhā: after seeing Kṛṣṇa, an elder made Her return home and directed Her to worship the sun, while She sent Her own friend ahead along the path to learn news of Kṛṣṇa. (1)

With the faultless notes of the horn named Mandra-ghoṣa, He filled the cowherd settlement with sound, enchanted the hearts of Vraja's beautiful girls, nourished their love, and went forth. (2)

The outskirts were filled with heaps of cow-dung cakes resembling mountain peaks and were tumultuous with the battles of rutting bulls, maddened by one another's scent. (3)

It was surrounded by hundreds of cowherd maidservants who busily gathered cow dung while singing Kṛṣṇa's pastimes and laughing together. (4)

It was thronged with hundreds of cowherds occupied in driving the cows and restraining the calves, and with groups of elderly cowherd women making cow-dung cakes. (5)

Kṛṣṇa delighted in seeing the outskirts of Vraja, full of its people and cattle: rows of cowsheds appeared everywhere; the calf pens shone amid low clusters of fencing and lines of shade trees; and the ground was soft from accumulated cow-dung dust. Verses 3-6 form one extended description. (6)

He saw the rows of cowsheds as chains of lakes. The cowherds busy restraining the calves were their aquatic creatures, streams of cow urine were their swelling waters, and milk pots were their tortoises. (7)

The faces of the cowherd women intent on gathering dung were the lakes' lotuses, while the moving white and reddish calves crowded them like flocks of swans and cakravāka birds. (8)

The lines of white cows emerging from them were their rivers, and the cows' tails were their water weeds. Hari delighted in seeing those rows of cowshed-lakes. Verses 7-9 form one linked image. (9)

The moon of Vraja followed the herd that Vrajendra had sent forth, its faces raised toward Him. Drawing the people of Vraja out of the settlement behind Him, He proceeded toward the forest with His company of friends. (10)

The riverlike line of cows raised waters of dust that could bestow supreme purity even upon Śiva, Brahmā, and the thunderbolt-bearing Indra, while restraining the workings of intelligence and senses. Curling, guarded by its cowherd companions, and joined by the dark Yamunā, daughter of the sun, that white stream created the illusion of a braided celestial river. (11)

Wherever lotus-eyed Hari placed His lotus feet as He went toward the forest, the eager land of Vraja opened the lotus of her heart. (12)

Thrilled by the weight of His beautiful feet, the earth's whole body blossomed in horripilation. Joyfully she made the grasses that the hooves had cut and wounded grow again. (13)

From the mountain of Vraja flowed a river made of lines of people, from the elderly down to little children. Their wide-open lotus eyes hurried in delighted agitation, and every face swelled with showers of loving tears as the river reached the ocean of Kṛṣṇa. (14)

The mothers who came at the head of that procession had garments wet from the streams flowing from their eyes and breasts. Eager to see their sons, Mother Yaśodā came with Mother Rohiṇī and the other senior mothers, Kilimbā among them. (15)

Rādhā, a river swelling with waves of love-play, entered the ocean of rasa that was Kṛṣṇa. Their powerful waves of glances were arrested as each became absorbed in the other. (16)

The leaders of the various groups, headed by Maṅgalā, Śyāmalā, Bhadrā, Pālī, and Candrāvalī, followed Him from every side, each with her own company. (17)

When the lord of its life departed together with the hosts of its wealth and people, the settlement of Vraja lost all human movement and sound. Motionless and speechless, its body grey with dust raised by the animals' hooves, it resembled a beloved whose lover had gone abroad. (18)

At the forest's edge Kṛṣṇa saw His parents and the people of Vraja still following Him. He stopped amid the herds of cows and turned His neck to look back. (19)

Because they endlessly imagined misfortune on His journey to the forest, His parents could not bring themselves to turn back. Their eyes were filled with tears, yet they remained eager to see Him. Beholding them, Kṛṣṇa became deeply distressed. (20)

Greedy for fragrance and leaping with thirst, though whirled about by the storm of modesty, the rows of eye-bees belonging to Vraja's beautiful girls seemed to fall upon Hari's lotus face. (21)

Seeing the intoxicated wagtail birds of His beautiful eyes dance upon the lotus of Rādhā's face, He judged His journey supremely auspicious, for the sight of Her was its true fruit. (22)

Leaving their own children behind, the tender mothers surrounded Acyuta on every side. Their tearful eyes remained fixed upon Kṛṣṇa's face, and their garments were wet with breast milk. (23)

Though beside herself, His mother mentally invoked His welfare; though her hands were powerless with emotion, she caressed Him with them. (24)

'I have hundreds of cowherds skilled in tending the cows. My child, why this stubborn insistence that You must tend them Yourself?' (25)

'You are a tender child, yet You wander through the wilderness all day without umbrella or sandals. How can Your parents remain alive?' (26)

Seeing His parents overwhelmed by parental love and insisting that He carry an umbrella and wear sandals, Keśava spoke. (27)

'Tending the cows is our own duty, and they have neither umbrellas nor sandals. When the cowherds live just as the cows do, their duty is perfectly pure.' (28)

'From dharma come longevity, fame, and prosperity, and dharma protects the one who protects it. Mother, how could it be abandoned? Amid dangers, dharma itself is the protector.' (29)

Seeing their son's noble character, His parents were satisfied and felt boundless joy within their hearts. Nevertheless, still agitated by fears of harm, His mother summoned the cowherds and spoke. (30)

'Subhadra, Maṇḍalībhadra, my dear Balabhadraka! I entrust to you this exceedingly tender and restless child.' (31)

'You must always restrain Him, instruct Him, and protect Him. If He grows willful and becomes too restless, you must report it to me.' (32)

'My children Vijaya and the others, stand vigilantly around Him at all times, bearing swords, bows, and arrows, and protect Him.' (33)

Then His affectionate mother touched her son's limbs with her hand, protected Him with mantras containing the Lord's names and the seed syllables of Nṛsiṁha, and tied a protective jewel upon His wrist. (34)

Saying, 'Mother, Father, give Me your permission,' their son fell at their feet. They raised Him in their arms and pressed Him to their hearts, wetting Him with milk and tears. They kissed His lotus face, wiped it with their hands, and smelled His head, their throats choked with tears. (35)

'May earth and heaven be auspicious for You. May Śrī Nṛsiṁha protect You. May the road be safe, the forest favorable, and every direction beneficent. Embraced by all good fortune, may You return safely to Your home.' Thus His loving parents gave permission, and He rejoiced. (36)

As Hari had been cherished by His parents, so Balarāma was cherished by Mother Rohiṇī together with Kilimbā and the other foster mothers, and by the hosts of cowherd men and women. (37)

Showering the thirsty cātaka birds of the Vraja women's eyes with a stream of nectarean sidelong glances, He communicated that He was going to the forest; with their own glances they gave their consent. (38)

Seeing the restless, forlorn deer of their minds, He plainly drew them along with Him to graze upon the tender shoots of His beauty, binding them with the chain of His glance. (39)

With His eyes Kṛṣṇa clearly entreated Rādhikā: 'Beautiful One, close Your eyes and somehow pass two or three ghaṭikās. Do not grieve. We shall meet at once at the forest's edge. Be merciful to Me and quickly come by some pretext to Your own lake.' (40)

With a glance full of humility He begged Rādhikā's permission to leave. Her sidelong glance poured forth tender anguish yet granted consent, and He was reassured. (41)

Though Their sidelong glances merely met in midair, those unbroken arrows swiftly entered one another's hearts and brought Them joy. The wondrous course of love is indeed difficult to comprehend. (42)

With the net of His own splendor Kṛṣṇa caught the fish of Rādhā's mind and carried it with Him. She, in turn, enclosed the eager royal swan of His heart within the cage formed by the corner of Her eye. (43)

Driving the cows before Him and drawing all Vraja behind Him, Kṛṣṇa, surrounded by His friends, prepared to enter the forest. (44)

Turning His neck, Hari again saw His parents, drawn onward by affection and still following with the people of Vraja. He stopped before them and spoke. (45)

'Mother, you should go no farther toward this forest. Please turn back quickly and send Me some ripe mangoes. Father, the tip of My ball-throwing stick broke today. Return to the settlement at once and have five or six strong ones made.' (46)

'See, Mother: though hungry and thirsty, the cows have stopped ahead, their necks turned and faces raised, waiting for Me.' (47)

His mother said, 'I shall send excellent food. Eat it at midday, and come back quickly in the afternoon.' (48)

He replied, 'Mother, if I hear that you and Father have happily eaten at home, then I shall eat the food you send and return home. Otherwise I will not.' (49)

His parents blessed and protected Him with body, mind, and speech. They drenched His body with milk and tears, kissed and embraced Him in their agitation, and gazed again and again upon His face. (50)

The rising hot sun of separation scorched His beloveds. They sprinkled Him with droplets from the waves of their gazes and drank the lake of His beauty through the fiery channels of their streaming sidelong glances. (51)

Nanda's son was torn between the dejection born of leaving Vraja and the exhilaration born of journeying to the forest. Distracted by those two emotions, He entered the woods. Verses 50-52 form one linked description. (52)

While Vraja kept its gaze fixed upon Kṛṣṇa, all its senses became eyes. The instant the forest concealed Him, every one of those senses seemed to dissolve completely. (53)

'Better than being moving beings is the blessed state of the trees, for He leaves us and goes to the forest.' As though grieving in this way, the people of Vraja assumed that stationary condition under the guise of stunned immobility. (54)

When the forest stole away Hari, the treasure of their lives, the cowherd women became like rivers bereft of beauty. The tiny fish of their minds, swallowed by the waves of Hari's brows, closed their eyes; the bees of their restless glances departed their withered lotus faces; and the swans of their lives sank into mud newly formed by separation. (55)

Then, acting only from long habit, the people of Vraja took the two bewildered rulers of Vraja and returned helplessly home. Their bodies moved without their minds, for those minds had followed Kṛṣṇa. (56)

Each company of sakhīs carefully lifted its fainting group leader and took her home. Moving like mechanical figures, they carried her as though she too were an image. (57)

Though distraught and nearly unconscious herself, Kundavallī carefully took the senseless Rādhā back to Vraja with Her equally absent-minded friends. (58)

Although the residents of Vraja had placed their hearts in Him and remained without awareness until they would see Him again, they still performed their various duties through bodily habit, just as liberated souls living in the body do. (59)

Kundavallī saw Jaṭilā on the path, intent on forming cow-dung cakes yet anxiously keeping her eyes upon the route her daughter-in-law would take. Clever in strategy and wishing quickly to bring Rādhikā near Kṛṣṇa, Kundavallī revived the stunned girl and spoke. (60)

'I bow to you, venerable lady. Please take your auspicious daughter-in-law ahead. Not even her shadow entered Kṛṣṇa's field of vision.' (61)

'Look at the divine full-body ornament, studded with countless jewels, that the delighted queen of the cowherd settlement gave her together with these garments because of her skill in cooking. Even the earth with all its oceans and islands could not equal the value of a single jewel, and such an ornament is unobtainable even by Śacī.' (62)

Delighted by the religious merit and wealth her daughter-in-law had gained, Jaṭilā wished to have another task accomplished through Kundavallī. Considering her praiseworthy because she had fulfilled Jaṭilā's own desire, she spoke in commendation. (63)

'Come, come, my child! May all be well with you. I would at once offer myself to ward away the evil eye from your character. Because you are affectionate toward me and my daughter-in-law, by my blessing may you become a mother of seven children.' (64)

'You are virtuous yourself and bold in protecting the virtue of others. I trust you as I trust myself, and therefore I make this request of you.' (65)

'“When a wife preserves dharma, her husband gains cows, sons, wealth, and long life.” Thus Paurṇamāsī, who knows the sacred law, instructed us. I therefore entrust this girl to you so that her virtue may be protected.' (66)

'The good speak truly when they say, “From dharma come wealth and desire's fulfillment.” Because her virtue was protected, great wealth has indeed been obtained.' (67)

'Protect her dharma so that my only son may prosper and no stain may fall upon our spotless family. Conduct her worship of the sun and then bring her back.' (68)

'Rādhe, my daughter, take from the house a copper vessel, milk, yogurt, and ghee from the tawny Kapilā cow, sacrificial offerings, rice cooked with ghee, hibiscus, sugarcane products, saffron, leaves, a lotus garland, and the other necessary articles. Go with Your friend to worship the sun, accompanied by Gārgī or some other young priest skilled in the rite.' (69)

'Lalite, you are fierce but virtuous. Never let your friend go anywhere alone. You should respectfully fold your palms even toward a direction bearing the slightest scent of Nanda's son.' (70)

'The day is already far advanced, my children, and heaps of cow dung remain. Let me place the burden upon you two so that I may make the dung cakes without worry.' (71)

Delighted at heart, the two replied, 'Venerable lady, attend to your own work without anxiety. We shall always guard your daughter-in-law as the two eyelids guard the pupil of the eye.' (72)

Though nearly mad with longing, the sweet-limbed girls drank the honey of Jaṭilā's command. Their bodies and hearts blossomed with joy; regaining composure, they followed Rādhā into the house. (73)

After they arrived, the maidservants washed and dried Śrī Rādhikā's feet and seated Her upon a cot. Joyfully they served their mistress by massaging Her lotus feet, fanning Her, and performing other services. (74)

The forest friend and garland maker Śrī Narmadā placed before her mistress a mass of jasmine, raṅgaṇa, karṇikāra, bakula, amoghā creeper, saptalā, jātī, campaka, nāgakeśara, clove, lotus, and other flowers. Sent by Śrī Vṛndā from the forest, they had only just opened and had not been touched by swarms of bees. (75)

With those flowers Rādhā fashioned a vaijayantī garland, a dwelling place for Her desire to touch Kṛṣṇa's limbs. It proclaimed Her skill and virtues and was perfumed with the essences of camphor and black aguru. (76)

She prepared betel packets in nāgavallī leaves with cardamom, camphor, nutmeg, jātī fruit, and catechu. Imbued with the fragrance and passion of Her own hands and heart, they would delight Kṛṣṇa's eyes and mind and redden the moon of His mouth. (77)

Lalitā sent Tulasī with this message: 'Offer Hari this garland and these betel packets, learn from Subala the appointed grove for the pastime, and return quickly.' Taking them, Tulasī set out for Kṛṣṇa's side together with Kastūrī and the other sakhīs. (78)

Then the supremely skillful Śrī Rādhikā, assisted by Her friends, began preparing extraordinary laḍḍukas, headed by karpūra-keli and amṛta-keli, to satisfy all the senses of moonlike Śrī Kṛṣṇa. (79)

Although Her own friend had gone to seek news of Him and She Herself was absorbed in work connected with Kṛṣṇa, the anxious cakora bird of Rādhā, longing to see the moon of Hari's face, still considered every moment to be hundreds of thousands of ages. (80)

Thus the Fifth Sarga, following the forenoon pastimes, has fittingly come to its close in Govinda-līlāmṛta, a poem born from service to Śrī Rūpa, the honeybee at Śrī Caitanya's lotus feet; composed by the fortunate Śrī Raghunātha Dāsa; arisen in the company of Śrī Jīva; and nurtured by Śrī Raghunātha Bhaṭṭa.