Nineteenth Sarga: Afternoon Pastimes

I remember Śrī Rādhā after She has reached home, prepared many offerings for Her lover, bathed well, dressed beautifully, and become filled with delight by seeing Her beloved's lotus face. I also remember Kṛṣṇa in the afternoon, proceeding toward Vraja with the herds of cows and His friends, fulfilled by the sight of Śrī Rādhā, greeted face-to-face by His father, and tenderly wiped clean by His mother. (1)

Lotus-faced Hari then attained the highest joy as His friends served Him. Expert with leaf horns, flutes, and vīṇās and eager for every kind of play, they at once manifested their own charming dispositions through His company. (2)

With direct addresses and agreeing replies, wild chatter and contrary speech, mutual conversations and excellent talk, laments and denials; (3)

some spoke with swallowed or indistinct words, others with dismissive speech; some with disdainful or false words, and others with fitting or pleasingly truthful ones; (4)

with reproaches and witty mockery, censures containing hidden praise, poems whose meaning was concealed by playful hints, and the giving and solving of poetic riddles; (5)

and with ingenious pattern-poems and riddles posed and completed for one another, the friends laughed and made Balarāma and Keśava laugh. (3-6 form one sentence.) (6)

Madhumaṅgala had tied the sacred food within his outer cloth and was hiding it from the circle of friends like a thief concealing stolen wealth. Balarāma addressed him. (7)

'Young brāhmaṇa, what is this in your outer cloth? Where did you obtain this offering to the sun? Was it from those for whom you performed worship? Who are they? Today is the sun's day, and all the people of Vraja are his worshipers. Untie it and show us what it is. Surely you are not greedy. These are your friends, so divide it among them and then eat. I have no wish for a share, for I have eaten enough.' (8)

'These fellows want to take it from me by force. I do not regard them as friends like you, but as mere straw. Who are they, indeed? I am a brāhmaṇa and a celibate student; by my own power I do not regard even you as a blade of grass.' (9)

Understanding Balarāma's signal, the cowherd boys then approached the young brāhmaṇa and politely asked him for food. He concealed it and fell silent. (10)

One boy came up behind him and covered his eyes with both hands, while others quickly carried away his outer cloth together with the sacred food. (11)

They all plundered and ate the food, and Subala took the coins. Another boy came from behind and loosened the rear tuck of Madhumaṅgala's garment. (12)

Another came from the front and pulled down the cloth before him. As Madhumaṅgala rushed at that boy, still others approached from his sides; (13)

they loosened his turban and undid his tied hair. Some seized his flute, others his staff, and ran away. (13-14 form one sentence.) (14)

At once crying, laughing, and roaring, threatening and rebuking them, and hurling curses, the young brāhmaṇa seized Kṛṣṇa's staff and charged at them all. (15)

For a moment he and some of the boys fought staff against staff. Then Kṛṣṇa embraced him and restrained all His friends. (16)

Kṛṣṇa had his flute, staff, and outer cloth returned to him. Seeing that the coins were gone, the angry Madhumaṅgala cursed the cowherd boys and said: (17)

'You have forcibly consumed a brāhmaṇa's property, and my gold coins have been stolen. You are forever impure, you rogues! Do not touch me.' (18)

'I am going straight to Vraja to report what you have done!' Repeatedly wailing as he hurried away, he was turned back by Balarāma. (19)

Madhumaṅgala told Him, 'You are the perpetrator and instigator of this wicked deed. I will not speak with You unless You perform atonement.' (20)

Playing in this way with all His friends and tending the cows on every side, Śrī Govinda wandered among every tree and vine in Vṛndāvana during the afternoon. Having delighted all the moving and unmoving beings of the forest, He eagerly remembered the residents of Vraja and longed to bring happiness to those who desired to see Him. (21)

Hari then saw the rows of cows grazing far away in every direction. Eager to gather them, He played their individual names upon His flute. (22)

'Padmā, hī hī! Hariṇī, Raṅgiṇī, Kañjagandhā! Rambhā, hī hī! Camarī, Khañjanī, Kajjalākṣī! Śandā, hī hī! Bhramarikā, Sunadā, Sunandā! Dhūmrā, hī hī! Saralī, Kālī, Marālī, Pālī!' (23)

'Gaṅgā, Tuṅgī, hī hī! Piṣaṅgī, Dhavalā, Kālindī, Vaṁśīpriyā! Śyāmā, Haṁsī, hī hī! Kuraṅgī, Kapilā, Godāvarī, Induprabhā! Śoṇā, Śyeṇī, hī hī! Triveṇī, Yamunā, Candrālikā, Narmadā!' Calling each by name in this way, the Lord of the cows lovingly summoned them. (24)

At first the grazing cows had become so absorbed in loving delusion that they thought, 'Kṛṣṇa is shining just behind us, tending us with His friends.' Though satisfied by the abundance of grass, they now understood from the sound of His flute that they had strayed far from Him. (25)

Their swift advance made slow by heavy udders and affection, the white cows came to Bakāsura's enemy with lowing throats and swaying dewlaps. Their faces, ears, and tails were raised, and mouthfuls of grass still rested between the tips of their teeth. (26)

The herd leaders, Gaṅgā and the other cows, approached Hari with their respective groups, drinking His beauty with their eyes and smelling His limbs with their noses; (27)

as though embracing Him with their bodies and licking Him with their tongues, those affectionate mothers surrounded Him on every side with loving lowing. (27-28 form one sentence.) (28)

Keśava too was subject to their affection. Delighting them by scratching and stroking them with a hand whose touch was nectar, He said: (29)

'Mothers, you have eaten your fill of grass, and the day in Vraja is almost over. Your calves are hungry, so please return to Vraja.' (30)

The friends then carefully separated the cows, who were overwhelmed by affection for Kṛṣṇa, from Him and gradually turned them toward the road to Vraja. (31)

Wearing neck ornaments of bells and tiny chimes diverse in kind, shape, and sound, the cows who led their respective herds turned toward the cowherd settlement. (32)

The rows of cows and she-buffaloes moving on His left and right made the celestials imagine they were beholding the currents of the Gaṅgā and the dark Yamunā. (33)

Who could see Him walking slowly behind the herds, pouring forth the nectar of His flute-song, His loosened curls covered with dust, and not become filled with joy? (34)

No stretch of road went unadorned by the friends; no friend was without a multitude of playful arts; no pastime lacked the fullness of humor; and no jest failed to delight the enemy of Aghāsura. (35)

Singing again and again upon His flute, He went with His friends. After going a little way, He repeatedly stopped and turned back. Pausing again and again, He gave them joy through His games; after bestowing that joy once more, He proceeded onward. (36)

On every part of the road Brahmā, Śiva, and the other gods, together with the lesser deities and foremost sages, honored Him with praises, dances, prostrations, songs, showers of flowers, and excellent music. Though their presence constrained His uninhibited play, He cast a smiling, compassionate glance upon those who bowed in devotion as they offered the following praise. (37)

'We bow to You, wearer of a lovely garland and son of Yaśodā, abode of all virtues and boundless reservoir of compassion. Your pastimes shine splendidly; You are exceedingly generous in giving, the destroyer of hosts of wicked beings, yet eternally changeless. (38)

'We bow to You, the Infinite One who dwells in the bowers, advances in radiance, and delights in spring. You please Your friends; Your teeth are more beautiful than jasmine buds; laughing, You send the corners of Your eyes toward their faces. (39)

'We bow to You, surrounded by excellent cows and bearing a beautiful flute, rich in lovely pastimes, sweet laughter, fine garments, gracious speech, and noble character. Your dress and hair are beautiful; You are the Lord of the gods, wonderfully variegated, gracious in conduct, well served, beneficent, and the finest friend. (40)

'We bow to You, perfectly peaceful, self-controlled, and beautiful, who return from the depths of the forest at day's end and at night's end. You embrace everything, are supremely great and resplendent, bring death to the bands of the wicked, and remain untiring even amid floods of fatigue. (41)

'We bow to You, enemy of Agha, Baka, and Mura, profoundly steadfast, the intimate companion of Balarāma and lifter of the mountain. You are the source even of Śiva, expert in boundless pastimes and in magnificently tearing apart the enemies of the gods. (42)

'We bow to You, most venerable and greatest in glory, whose fame spreads everywhere, the best of the gods. You are most distant from the hearts of the faithless, weightier than Mount Sumeru, stronger than the strong, and more skillful than the skilled. (43)

'We bow to Your deeds, purer than the holiest pilgrimage, a sickle cutting down the ranks of the wicked and a vessel across the ocean of becoming. They paint wondrous pictures in the hearts of the saintly, dig into the hearts of enemies, befriend those who bow, and astonish by their powers. (44)

'You graze Your own cows, create beautiful pastimes, destroy the wicked, and protect the three worlds. Ah, what excellent fortune is ours! We continually behold You, the eternal object of worship, praise You, and bow before You.' (45)

Thus praising Him, the immortals became fulfilled by His compassionate glances and bowed at His feet. Fearing that their presence might inhibit His play, they concealed themselves and followed through the sky while continuing to behold Him. (46)

Viṣṇu, worshiped by the lord of Vraja, places His own power within Hari and destroys the demons. Yet the foolish gods think that this boy kills them by Himself, and so they praise Him. (47)

The friends laughed at those gods, imitating their forms and gestures, and continued joyfully on their way with Hari. (48)

Meanwhile Hari's beloved reached Her home and rested briefly while Her maidservants attended Her. Then, together with Her friends, She prepared foods and betel for the evening and nighttime enjoyment of the Lord of Her heart. (49)

She made Her beloved's favorite dumpling called Amṛta-keli from banana flower, powdered black gram, fine aromatic grain, pepper, thick milk, the four fragrant spices, and camphor. Fried in ghee, it was placed in a syrup of raw sugar. (50)

She made another excellent dumpling, Her beloved's favorite Karpūra-keli, from fine rice flour, yogurt, pepper, sugar, partly ripened coconut, nutmeg, cardamom, cloves, camphor leaves and fruit, and foamed, ground mung. Fried in ghee, it was immersed deeply in a rich preparation of milk, sugar, and camphor. (51)

With those same ingredients She formed a row of knotted dumplings and placed them in pañcāmṛta, creating the dish called Pīyūṣa-granthi-pālikā, 'the little nectar knots.' (52)

She made Her beloved's favorite Anaṅga-guṭikā from milk cream, moon-white rice, coconut, nutmeg, cloves, pepper, and sugar, all finely ground, together with banana and cardamom and repeatedly steeped in ghee. (53)

She prepared the dumpling called Sīdhu-pūrva-vilāsa from banana, pepper, milk, raw sugar, and cooked wheat, richly flavored with nutmeg and sporting within fresh, moon-bright syrup. (54)

Thus Śrī Rādhā devised this excellent set of five gifts through Her own ingenuity. Loving Kṛṣṇa, Nanda's son, eagerly eats them while scorning nectar itself. (55)

The first three of these are famous throughout Vraja. The final pair is enjoyed privately at night like savory morsels accompanying a drink of honeyed liquor. (56)

She also made laḍḍus called Gaṅgā-jala from quantities of sugar blended with cloves, cardamom, camphor, and pepper; (57)

and other fried cakes called Sara-pūpikā, prepared in ghee from milk cream and lāṅgalī grain combined with those various spices. (57-58 form one sentence.) (58)

Then Rādhā bathed and was anointed. She wore a garment of youthful crimson radiance, Her braid was beautifully bound, a lovely moon of vermilion graced Her forehead, musk adorned Her chin, a garland encircled Her neck, and a lotus rested in Her hand. A pearl swung from the tip of Her nose; collyrium beautified Her eyes; flowers adorned Her ears; Her waistcloth was tied securely; betel reddened Her lips; lovely blossoms crowned Her hair; and lac brilliantly illumined Her feet. Thus She shone. (59)

Rādhā shone while wearing a jeweled crest and forehead ornament, beautiful bangles, cakrī and śalākā ornaments, a jeweled girdle, earrings, bracelets, anklets, toe rings, a necklace, a pendant, armlets, many kinds of garlands, finger rings, and tinkling jeweled foot ornaments. (60)

Together with Her friends, who had also bathed and adorned themselves beautifully, She ascended the moon pavilion and stood gazing fixedly upon the road by which Kṛṣṇa would come. (61)

At the time when the dark raincloud Kṛṣṇa was due to arrive, the rows of cowherd women became like thirsty cātaka birds. Turning upward toward the moon pavilions, they waited eagerly with the beaks of their eyes opened wide. (62)

Filled with the circles of moonlike faces belonging to the eager cowherd women who had climbed upon them, the moon pavilions of Vraja fully justified their name. (63)

When afternoon arrived, the queen of Vraja yearned for her son's return, her heart flooded with affection. Hurrying to prepare His meal, she appointed her friend Rohiṇī to supervise the cooking. (64)

She then summoned Atulā, the wife of Nanda's younger brother and thus her own younger co-sister, and assigned her to cook alongside Rohiṇī. (65)

To furnish Kṛṣṇa's meal with a wealth of preparations made from vegetables, bulbs, roots, fruits, and other produce of all six seasons, (66)

the anxious lord and lady of Vraja had engaged expert gardeners, skilled in the many arts of stimulating plants to fruit, to establish six gardens of vegetables and other produce. (67)

The residents of Vraja suppose that the fruits and other produce arise from those different horticultural arts, but in truth the six seasons themselves perpetually serve those gardens. (68)

From those gardens the gardeners brought the queen of Vraja large baskets filled with the vegetables, roots, fruits, and other produce of every season. (66-69 form one sentence.) (69)

Mother Yaśodā had the maidservants divide it. One half was cleaned and prepared for the evening's cooking, while the other half was kept for the morning meal. (70)

For her two sons' evening meal, she had the servants prepare the coconuts, ripe mangoes, and other fruits that the gardeners had brought. (71)

Hari's mother moved continually here and there, urging the servants on in their respective duties and pressing her two co-sisters to cook quickly. (72)

Then the queen of Vraja, surrounded by her co-sisters and the other foremost women and eager to see her son, went to the town gate and stood there with a radiant face. Milk and tears of love had moistened the cloth covering her breasts. (73)

Seeing the sun eager to cross the western mountain, the lord of the cowherd settlement became thirsty for the sight of his son. Fixing his eyes upon the dust raised by the cows and his ears upon the flute's sound, he joyfully went with his companions to the cattle enclosure. (74)

The people of Vraja stood eagerly upon high places like planets in the heavens, their eyes filled with the delicate, rising veil of dust from the cows. (75)

Adorning His friends with flowers and delighting them with His words, Hari went with them into the forest bordering Vraja and filled them with happiness. (76)

At a broad lake there, He stopped the cows with the tones of His flute. After giving them water, He arranged them separately, herd by herd. Śrī Hari then counted His many-colored herds with a counting necklace that crossed His chest, its jewels colored to correspond to them. (77)

When His own count or that of His friends was complete, He rejoiced. If the number of cows was short, He at once summoned by name those separated from their groups through signaling notes upon His flute. Placing each cow within her own herd, He set them all moving toward Vraja. (78)

The sacred dust of the cows had made His limbs, guñjā ornaments, forest garland, clothing, tossing curls, and peacock feather tawny. He carried a milking tether, rope, flute, leaf staff, and horn, and His restless reddish eyes were exceedingly large, long, and fringed with lashes. (79)

The cātaka birds of everyone's eyes were drenched by the shower of nectarean beauty born of His fatigue from roaming the forest. His artistry upon the flute stole the composure of the young women and made them reel. Thus Kṛṣṇa entered the cowherd settlement with friends equal to Himself. (80)

Rising over the land of Vraja, the dark cloud bank of Kṛṣṇa's radiance shone beautifully. It poured streams of sweet nectar from His flute in every direction, drenched the land, and extinguished the forest fire of separation from Him. (81)

The bandit king named Separation heard the tumult of the horns and other instruments belonging to the army of King Śrī Kṛṣṇa's Arrival. Trembling when he saw from afar the rising banners of fragrant cow dust, he fled the settlement in an instant together with his forces: anxiety, emaciation, helplessness, stupor, pain, and agitation. (82)

The rainy season called Śrī Hari's Arrival arose, its mass of clouds the cows' billowing dust, its rumbling thunder their cries of 'Hambā!', and its nectar-bearing rain the song of His flute. Filled with joy, the people of Vraja turned their faces upward on every side and approached like a flock of cātaka birds with thirst awakened. (83)

The king of Vraja, accompanied by his brothers and the cowherd men, and the queen of Vraja, accompanied by her co-sisters, hurried forward from afar and embraced their two sons. (84)

Leaving the kitchen after assigning maidservants to watch over it, Rohiṇī and Atulā came forward, embraced the two boys, and rejoiced. (85)

The moon-faced women of Vraja felt love awaken at the sound of the flute. Their speech choked with emotion, their beautiful teeth sharply radiant, their coverings loosened, they came stumbling out from house after house. (86)

Behold! As the wondrous sun Kṛṣṇa rose before them, the blue lotuses of the Vraja residents' eyes opened and the white lilies of their smiles blossomed. The moonlike luster of their limbs became moist, and their lives, scorched by the fire of separation, grew cool. (87)

Behold! As Kṛṣṇa, the wondrous and eternally full moon, arose, the lotus faces of Vraja's young women blossomed. The flock of owls consisting of distress, separation, and anxiety hid away, while the cakravākī birds of their bodies reunited with the cakravāka birds of their life airs. (88)

The thirsty swarm of bees formed by the cowherd women's eyes crossed the opposing gale of modesty. Greedy for the rising nectar of His beauty, it fell upon the lotus of Kṛṣṇa's face. (89)

Śauri mistook the faces of the cowherd women standing between the vines for blossoming lotuses. Though made to whirl by the gale of bashfulness, the greedy pair of bees formed by His eyes descended upon them. (90)

The gopīs repeatedly nourished their five senses: again and again they beheld Śrī Hari's lotus face, touched the breeze that had touched His body, inhaled the fragrance of His limbs, and tasted the swelling flute sound sweetened by the honey of His lips. (91)

The arrow of Śrī Rādhikā's sidelong glance struck His vital core and left Him overwhelmed. Even though the feathered shafts of all the other women's glances pierced every limb of His body, they did not affect Him in that way. (92)

He attained supreme delight from being sprinkled by the slightest nectar of the gentle smile on Rādhikā's moonlike face. He did not experience the same joy even while bathing in the many streams of smiling nectar rising from the moonlike faces of all the beautiful cowherd women. (93)

The Lord of Gokula led the multitude of cows to Gokula with their many herds, while through the multitude of His own senses He stole the multitude of senses belonging to Gokula's women. (The verse plays repeatedly upon the meanings of go and kula.) (94)

His parents came before Him and found the very life of their lives returning from the forest surrounded by His fortunate companions. He was like a treasure once far away that had now come within their hands. Kissing Him, pressing Him to their hearts, gazing upon His face, and smelling His head, they attained all that they desired. (95)

The two parents rejoiced as they wiped with the edges of their garments their son's curls and peacock feather, now gray with the dust of the cows, and bathed His limbs in streams of milk from His mother's breasts and tears from both their eyes. (96)

The enemy of Bakāsura now met His father and the others just as He had in the morning. Yet the morning meeting followed the distress of separation from Him, whereas the evening meeting overflowed with the joy of reunion. (97)

Then Keśava gathered the entire mass of cows and, by entering the cowshed Himself, enclosed them there just as the sun gathers its rays and enters the mountain of sunset. (98)

He placed separately the milk cows, cows nursing older calves, young heifers, first-calf cows, cows whose calves had died, pregnant cows, cows near calving, and draft cows; (99)

and He settled in their proper places the bulls, young bullocks, breeding bulls, and animals trained for the yoke, plow, or cart. Then He allowed the calves to drink. (100)

His parents' hearts longed to pamper Him, and they repeatedly asked Him to come home, but He was eager to milk the rows of cows and would not go. His father then said to Him: (101)

'Let the cows rest for a moment and the calves drink their milk. I am here, and these cowherd men are eager to do the milking. (102)

'My dear boys, You are tired. Go home and let Your mother care for You. After bathing and refreshing Yourselves, return free of fatigue for the milking.' (103)

Pulling Kṛṣṇa along, Madhumaṅgala said, 'We are tormented by hunger and thirst. Come home, Kṛṣṇa, and save our lives with food and drink!' (104)

Affectionate mother Rohiṇī repeatedly urged Him on, and the king of Vraja insistently pressed Him to go. His own mother took Him by the hand, and Kṛṣṇa departed for home with His elder brother and His friends. (105)

The queen of Vraja wished to take all the boys to her home, but along the road the mothers of Hari's friends entreated her for their sons. Though powerless to let Kṛṣṇa go and though their sons themselves were powerless to leave Him, those mothers somehow took each boy back to his own home. (106)

When the queen of Vraja had brought Hari home with Balarāma and Madhumaṅgala, Rohiṇī, Balarāma's mother, washed their feet and then went with Atulā to the kitchen. (107)

The sight of Gokula's moon extinguished the heat of separation felt by Śrī Rādhikā and the other gopīs. Delighted, they followed Him as far as the edge of Vraja, but when the vision of Him was cut off their hearts again became agitated by pain, and they returned to their respective homes. (108)

Just as the unexpected birth of a son brings supreme joy to the childless, a great shower of gold to the impoverished, and a torrential rain to forest dwellers surrounded by wildfire, so the cowherd people experienced the highest delight when they attained Hari's company once again. (109)

Thus ends the Nineteenth Sarga, filled with the afternoon pastimes, in the poem Govinda-līlāmṛta, which shines through Śrī Raghunātha Bhaṭṭa, arose from the association of Śrī Jīva, was composed by Śrī Raghunātha Dāsa, was bestowed as the fruit of serving Śrī Rūpa, and belongs to the honeybee at the lotus feet of Śrī Caitanya. (Colophon)