A Description of the Beauty of the Rainy Season in Vraja

A Description of the Beauty of the Rainy Season in Vraja

Summer ended, and the rainy season arrived to adorn the land of Vraja. Wherever and whenever it comes, it infuses all moving and unmoving beings with new life and increases their lineages. Everyone welcomes it. The beautiful maidens of the directions greet it wearing bracelets of lightning. The sun and moon honor it by forming halos around themselves. Again and again the sky proclaims its victory with a deep roar. Intoxicated with joy, the wind expresses its delight by scattering masses of pearly drops at every doorway and beside every latticed window.

Then the rainy season began, bringing forth all living beings. Its horizon flashed with lightning, and the surface of the sky resounded with thunder.

(Śrīmad Bhāgavatam 10.20.3)

First the rainy season appeared there, the season in which all creatures arise. The sky grew turbulent and the wind moved through it, while halos formed around the sun and moon.

This time the rainy season has come to witness the anniversary of Vrajendra's son's eighth year. It stretches a canopy across the sky of Vraja and waits. It cherishes countless desires and, moved by each of those feelings, has adorned Vṛndāvana and Nanda Rāya's realm of Vraja. O poets, O seers of truth! Take whatever portion you wish of those feelings reflected in the stainless current of your minds, which are imbued with the nectar of Śrī Kṛṣṇa, and express even a little of it through speech. The mere sight of its reflection will bestow unbounded welfare upon the beings of the material world, for your description rests upon that rainy season which serves as an instrument of Śrī Kṛṣṇacandra's pastime. Your eyes are immersed in the Dark Beauty's lovely lotus feet, and only after becoming fragrant with their nectar will comparisons emerge along the path of your speech.

Now behold the supremely divine, conscious realm of Vraja, and the dense masses of dark blue clouds covering its sky. Lightning flashes again and again, followed by the all-pervading tumult of thunder. The sun, moon, and hosts of stars are completely veiled, as though they have vanished from the heavens. In the same way the self-luminous living being, whose true nature is the blissful Absolute, appears covered by nature's three qualities of sattva, rajas, and tamas. There remains an awakening of sattva like a streak of lightning, the clamor of rajas predominates, and the dense covering of tamas continually rests upon it.

In truth, lightning, thunder, and clouds have no connection with the celestial luminaries and cannot cover them. The obstruction lies only along the observer's line of sight; the celestial bodies remain luminous in their own places. Similarly, the living being, pure and of the nature of Brahman, has no real relation with these qualities. The natural qualities cannot truly cover the self. Such covering is merely an appearance born of ignorance, for the self remains self-luminous and blissful by nature.

The living being becomes aware of this true nature only when its eyes turn toward Vrajarāja's son, whose radiance is deeply blue. The moonlight of the Dark Beauty's toenails absorbs the light of its sattva. Its rajasic roar of “I” and “mine” dissolves into the notes of the flute flowing from his honeyed throat. The darkness of its tamas melts into the stainless Lord's blue effulgence and becomes an ornament for his lotus eyes, an instrument of service. O beings of the world! If only you could take to heart this message revealed through the rainy season that covers the sky of Vraja.

Covered by dense blue clouds bearing lightning and thunder, the sky's lights grew indistinct, and it appeared like Brahman clothed in qualities.

(Śrīmad Bhāgavatam 10.20.4)

Dark-colored clouds rose up and covered the sky with repeated thunder. The living being seemed like Brahman endowed with qualities, enveloped by sattva, rajas, and tamas.

Behold the sun's disk covered in the sky by dense clouds. Understand within your heart that Brahman appears similarly concealed by māyā. A clear encircling line returned and formed a halo around the moon; thus the Lord and the living being seemed to shine together in this imagery.

Now behold the feeling within the vast heart of the radiant sun god. For eight months, from Kārttika through Jyeṣṭha, he used his rays to receive the earth's wealth of moisture and the rivers' and lakes' wealth of water. Yet when the proper time arrived, he felt not the slightest hesitation and began returning all that accumulated treasure with an open heart. The earth had then been filled with moisture, and waves had risen in its rivers and reservoirs. The radiant sun therefore began taking a portion, gathering it little by little and storing it in the form of clouds. But when the force of summer began draining the earth of moisture and tormenting her with heat, the god of warmth immediately started returning that moisture and wealth as rain.

A just and righteous king does the same. When his subjects' wealth increases, he takes a proper portion as state tax and preserves it in his treasury. When his people need it, he freely gives it back. The people's wealth is thus distributed among the people once more. Today the sun does the same during the rainy season. One takes only in order to give. How clear is this message from the sun god!

The truth is that this virtue entered the sun from Vrajendra's son. He too appears to take, but does he keep beside himself anything that anyone has offered? If you wish to see how beautifully and immeasurably increased he makes an offering before returning it, look at the life of every devotee who has surrendered everything at his lovely feet. Therefore do not be troubled if the Dark Beauty takes something of yours. Regard it instead as magnificent good fortune. Your possession will return to you made matchlessly beautiful and infinite. You understand the sun's message, do you not?

When the proper time arrived, the sun began releasing through the rain clouds the water-born wealth he had drunk from the earth with his rays for eight months.

(Śrīmad Bhāgavatam 10.20.5)

For eight months the sun drinks the earth's water through his rays. Then for four months the torrents pour, removing every sorrow and overflowing with delight. It is just as a king receives his tax and, when the time comes, returns it to his subjects.

See yet another mystery within these clouds. These great clouds pour rain without ceasing. Do you know why? Listen. With their eyes of lightning they saw the anguish and distress of others. Compassion in the form of wind shook them. Driven by its fierce force, they flew here and now pour out all the water-like nectar of their hearts. The world is being refreshed. These mighty clouds display the very nature of thoroughly compassionate saints. Those merciful great souls act in the same way. As soon as they see the suffering of living beings, mercy overcomes them. They give everything they possess, even sacrificing their lives, to bring comfort and happiness to the afflicted.

Yet such compassion originally descends from the lovely eyes of the Dark Beauty alone. This depth of mercy appears only in one whose heart's current can break through the barrier of “I” and merge with the compassionate waves of that ocean of mercy. These great clouds have adopted the blueness of Vrajarāja's son's blessed limbs. Inside and out they are dyed in his color. That is why they rain to relieve the heat of others. As they continue raining, they will dissolve into the sky of Vraja. No, they will dissolve into Śrī Kṛṣṇa's eyes, which possess the beauty of the exquisite lotus centers blooming in autumn lakes.

O beings of the world! If only you too could learn the lesson of these mighty clouds, installing the Dark Beauty within your hearts and becoming dyed inside and out in his color. Your existence would then bring unlimited welfare to the world. Carried upon gusts of compassion, you too would rain nectar forever. The world's torment would cease, and in the end your eternal home would be within the Dark Beauty's lotus eyes.

Great clouds filled with lightning, shaken by violent winds, released life-giving water for the world's delight, like compassionate souls.

(Śrīmad Bhāgavatam 10.20.6)

The great clouds made lightning their eyes and saw every creature scorched by heat. Driven by the wind, they rained life-giving water, drawing away everyone's suffering and gladdening every heart. They were like compassionate souls who, out of love for others, give even their own dear lives.

But if you cannot become so great and are not prepared to live solely for the good of others, then accept the earth as your model even for your own sake. Look at what the earth had become and what condition she reached through austerity. She had grown exceedingly thin and dry. How could it be otherwise? For many months she had not accepted even a single drop of water. She simply waited in hope for the dark rain cloud. As a result, the dark cloud finally came. Just as the body of one who performs austerity for a desired end grows robust upon receiving its complete reward, the earth became radiant after being drenched by the stream of water given by the cloud.

In the same way, engage in austerity. Renounce all the world's enjoyments and allow yourself to dry out completely just once. Do not accept even a particle of temptation offered by anyone. Fix your sole hope upon Śrī Kṛṣṇacandra, Gokulendra's son, whose complexion resembles a fresh rain cloud. Then this ever-new dark cloud will surely arise in the sky of your heart. Drenched by the stream of bliss he gives, you will blossom forever, whatever purpose first led you to place your hope in him.

The earth, emaciated by austerity and then showered by the gods, grew full again, just as the body of one practicing austerity for a desire flourishes upon attaining its fruit.

(Śrīmad Bhāgavatam 10.20.7)

The earth had grown thin from summer's heat; now she became lush and shone with an excellent complexion. She was like one who gains the desired fruit of austerity and grows well nourished through enjoying its reward.

During the rainy-season twilight in Vraja, the fireflies gleaming in the sky from behind trees and creepers unknowingly offer you a message. A curious indication comes from them. Listen well, for it will reveal the nature of the age in which you live, an age in which constant vigilance alone brings benefit. Behold, evening darkness covers all of Vraja. The radiance of the moon, Venus, and the other celestial bodies has vanished entirely. Countless fireflies do fly about, and the lights at their tails are visible.

Do you know what occurs in the age of Kali? Listen. The darkness of sin becomes exceedingly dense. The Vedic traditions cease to be visible, and countless heretical doctrines are propagated in their place. Consider this yourself. Could the light of a firefly reveal Vrajendra's family moon, seated in Queen Yaśodā's inner chamber? Far from seeing him, could you even discover the direction of Nanda's palace? Likewise, could false doctrines fulfill the sole purpose of your human life? Leaving that aside, could they even enable you to conduct ordinary worldly affairs? Do not make the mistake of taking a firefly's glow for moonlight.

He from whose light not only the moon but the entire host of celestial bodies becomes luminous is seated upon his bed beside Vrajendra's queen. Even now, the blue radiance of his blessed limbs illumines Vraja's lordly residence and every particle within it. If you cannot see the path, do not be troubled. Wherever and however you are situated, offer from that very place an oblation filled with feeling. Direct it not toward the fireflies' glow but toward Vrajendra's family moon. Then you will see the dense covering of darkness split apart. An unprecedented moonlight will spread and absorb the glow of the fireflies. From that very place you will behold not merely the path to Nanda's palace, but the moon of Vraja himself.

At nightfall the fireflies shine in the darkness, but the planets do not, just as false doctrines shine through sin in the age of Kali, while the Vedas do not.

(Śrīmad Bhāgavatam 10.20.8)

At evening the fireflies gleam, while dense clouds hide the shining host of stars. So in Kali's age sin and false teachings appear, while the powerful dharma of the Vedas does not.

Morning has come again. Behold the beauty of Vraja adorned by the rainy season. Even the frogs' croaking is extraordinary. Hearing the clouds' gentle rumble, they have all become filled with delight. The company of frogs seems like a group of young brāhmaṇa students in a gurukula. Until now their teacher had been engaged in his daily rites. While the revered teacher remains silent, the students too stay quiet and await their preceptor's summons. But now the teacher's daily observances have concluded, and in a deep voice he commands them to recite their respective lessons from memory. The entire residence of students must then resound at once. The clouds serving as teachers also seemed until now to be engaged in daily rites. Those rites have ended, and their deep voice commands the frog-like pupils to begin their lessons. Therefore these remarkable young brāhmaṇas now continue their scriptural recitation without pause. This is no mere sound of croaking!

Hearing the thunder of the rain clouds, the frogs released their voices, just as brāhmaṇas who had lain silent speak when their period of discipline ends.

(Śrīmad Bhāgavatam 10.20.9)

Hearing the clouds thunder, the delighted frogs uttered countless cries across the earth. They were like a class hearing the teacher's command, all the pupils rising to recite at once.

× × ×

Gathering and swelling in great assemblies, the frogs called loudly in all ten directions, like disciples of a Brahman-knowing sage assembled to proclaim the sound of the Vedas.

Only through inconceivable good fortune can one become a frog in Vṛndāvana, croak there, and receive the opportunity to serve as an instrument in the Dark Beauty's pastime. Far beyond that, where can one obtain the fortune of merging with even a particle of Vraja's dust? Brahmā, lotus-born, has continued to yearn for it. His longing has still not been fulfilled.

O Mādhava, make me a particle of Vṛndāvana's dust, upon which Nanda's son walks each day as he grazes the cows from forest to forest.

These streams of Vṛndāvana had nearly dried. The summer heat was only a pretext. In truth, the Dark Beauty had not come to graze the cows in this direction for several days. He had not bathed in them, and they had not received the touch of his lotus feet. Their ripples therefore grew still, and they gradually contracted within their bounds. The fire of separation from Śrī Kṛṣṇacandra burned away the nectar of their hearts.

Otherwise, even summer comes to Vṛndāvana to increase everyone's happiness. The gurgling of waterfalls and the softly rushing music of streams never ceases here. The Dark Beauty's flute immediately announces his arrival to them, and even at midday in summer they laugh and adorn themselves with charming decorations to welcome the deity of their lives. But when the delight of their lives, Vrajendra's son, did not come that day, did not arrive the next day, and even on the third day his flute did not echo through this part of the forest, why should the streams continue to flow? At whose feet could they offer the surging feelings of their hearts? They could only grow thinner and thinner.

Now the rain clouds have come and pour down masses of water, while the Dark Beauty, filled with delight and eager to behold the rainy season's entire splendor, seems to wander through every part of the forest. Why should limitless joy not awaken in these streams? Why should they not break their bounds and race toward the lanes of Vraja? One considers path and wrong path only until Vrajendra's son enters one's sight and the sound of his flute enters one's ears. Once the dark radiance of his blessed limbs fills the eyes and the flute's waves pass through the ears to drench the heart, no room remains for deliberation.

That is why these streams race with tremendous speed. They no longer know where they go, in which direction, or whether they ought to go at all. As far as they understand, they flow only toward the Dark Beauty's lotus feet. Yet, O beings of the material world, they offer you another message. If taking it into your heart can raise you upward, then surely rise and flow toward Vraja's lordly son. Observe what happens where you live, in this material world.

In summer small rivers and streams all grow thin. Their force and restlessness disappear. But when the rainy season's unbroken torrents fill their depths, they suddenly become unrestrained. They break the bounds of their channels and follow destructive paths. They resemble those who identify the body as the self, dance constantly at the mind's command, are forcibly driven toward sense objects by their senses, and possess a sleeping intelligence that cannot distinguish duty from wrongdoing.

With the slightest attention you can plainly see the condition of creatures ruled by body and senses. As long as their bodies lack physical strength and vigor, they are not intoxicated with youth, and wealth remains scarce, their eyes do not become dazzled by these forms of pride. Their lives remain within bounds and they do not transgress propriety. But if destiny changes, bodily strength and virility arise, and unlimited wealth is obtained, there is no telling how far they will be swept away. Their limits collapse, the right path is abandoned, and they advance freely and without restraint along the wrong one. They ruin themselves and cause the ruin of countless others.

The small rivers of the rainy season are in the same condition. During summer's heat, lack of water keeps them within their bounds and they do not flow with the pride of abundance. As soon as the rains arrive, they surge forth, leave their channels, and destroy many things. The streams in the Dark Beauty's playground destroy no one even when they swell. Though they leave their paths and flow with immense speed, they wash only the moon-like toenails of Vrajendra's son. Yet through their sacred current they teach such a beautiful lesson to the world's body-conscious beings.

The small rivers, which had nearly dried, now overflowed and left their proper courses, like the body and wealth of an undisciplined man when they suddenly flourish.

(Śrīmad Bhāgavatam 10.20.10)

The rivers that had previously dried now filled with abundant water and left their courses. They were like an uncontrolled man growing arrogant upon gaining bodily strength, a house, and wealth.

On one side lie masses of green grass, their verdure shimmering luxuriantly. Elsewhere companies upon companies of scarlet indragopa insects establish their realm and spread a fresh crimson hue. In other places countless rain mushrooms rise like canopies, shedding a bright glow like innumerable resting pavilions. Adorned with green, red, and radiant light, the earth has acquired an extraordinary splendor. It seems that an emperor's army has spread across her breast and that innumerable tents of white, crimson, and other colors shine there. In truth, this is indeed so. All this decoration has been prepared to welcome Vrajendra's son, Lord of the universe. The radiance of his infinite splendor pervades everything.

The earth became green with fresh grass, red with indragopa insects, and shaded by rising mushrooms, like the opulence of a king.

(Śrīmad Bhāgavatam 10.20.11)

The earth, which had grown old and fallen faint, became green again. The beauty of the rising mushrooms delighted and stole the heart. It seemed that a king had arrived and encamped, raising parasols and spreading bedding.

The lovely earth, crowded with sprouts of grass, was clothed in green, like the accumulated merit of the virtuous increasing day after day. Against the green ground, scarlet indragopa insects and mushroom stems shone, like a sovereign resplendent in the beautiful array of royalty.

Look there at the cowherd farmers, whose hearts are filled with delight because the wealth of new grain flourishes in their fields. Yet see the flames rising in Kaṁsa's demonic vassals as they behold it. How the prosperity of Vraja's residents torments their very lives! What can the poor creatures do? They do not understand the movement of providence. They do not know that through inconceivable good fortune Vrajendra's son himself is the master of those cowherds. Wherever he dwells, the ocean of bliss will remain forever and wholly surging. Their own master, however, is Kaṁsa. Wherever his shadow falls, the furnace of grief and pain must burn ceaselessly on every side.

The fields, rich with crops, gave joy to the farmers and distress to the wealthy, who did not understand that everything rests under providence.

(Śrīmad Bhāgavatam 10.20.12)

Millet and rice sprang up in the fields, and the farmers rejoiced to behold them. The wealthy burned with distress, not understanding that all rests under providence.

During this rainy season all the aquatic and terrestrial creatures of Vraja rejoice. Every form has blossomed, and all have assumed extraordinary beauty. One might say they are so delighted because they have drunk the rainy season's fresh water. Just as beings scorched by worldly suffering blossom through serving Śrī Hari's feet and become beautiful within and without, these creatures of water and land have grown beautiful by drinking the rain's new water.

Yet when did their matchless beauty ever decline? When do those touched by the Dark Beauty's lovely glance become withered? Just as the beauty of Śrī Kṛṣṇacandra's lotus eyes becomes ever new at every moment, the beauty of everything drenched by his nectarean glance also remains eternally fresh. One may understand the comparison in that way.

They certainly offer this indication: “O creatures of the world's waters and lands, listen! If you wish to become beautiful like us, then serve this dark moon who resembles a fresh rain cloud. Constantly scorched by the material world's terrible flames, you have lost your beauty and become exceedingly misshapen. Drink merely one drop of the nectar falling from every particle of the Dark Beauty's blessed limbs. Your form will then become eternally and immeasurably beautiful. Without fresh water, beauty cannot unfold in trees and other plants. Likewise, a living being scorched by the three kinds of suffering can never become cool or attain true beauty without entering the company of Vrajendra's son, who resembles a new rain cloud.”

All creatures of water and land assumed beautiful forms by enjoying the fresh rainwater, just as beings become beautiful through serving Hari.

(Śrīmad Bhāgavatam 10.20.13)

All the inhabitants of water and land became radiant through the water's splendor. Likewise, one who renders service to Hari shines with an exceedingly beautiful form.

Look further. Do you know where the current of Yamunā, daughter of Mount Kalinda, is going and why such towering waves rise within her? Listen and see with inward vision. Her surging current first unites with the celestial Gaṅgā. Their merged stream then embraces the ocean. The ocean feels fulfilled by this supremely sacred touch. Its breath swells with excessive joy and immense waves arise, for it has received the pollen of Śrī Kṛṣṇa's lotus feet stored within the heart of the sun's daughter. No, there is more. In this rainy-season flood, Yamunā has gathered masses of dust from the land of Vraja and brought them with her. The ocean has effortlessly obtained this matchless treasure, the treasure for which Brahmā himself continually longs.

When Yamunā gathers these particles of dust, breaks her bounds, and begins washing the forest paths and the lower streets upon which Vraja's residents place their feet, her heart becomes overwhelmed with joy and all its nectar surges upward. That nectar manifests as her mighty waves. With tremendous speed she then carries an offering to the ocean: pollen from the lotus feet of Vraja's residents, the cowherd boys, the divine couple of Vraja, and the women of Vraja. How inconceivable is the good fortune of Yamunā and the ocean! That is why the ocean too has become intoxicated. If you could understand the glory of Vraja's dust, you would know the nature of such joy. But your mind is filled with desires and longings, which form a dense covering over your eyes. How could you comprehend this unworldly, supremely divine bliss?

Still, according to your capacity, receive one indication from behind this mystery. It will bring you immense benefit. Advance with this lesson before you, and you will not grow weary upon the path. The ocean is steady, yet the wild currents of rain-swollen rivers and the rainy season's tempest agitate it. In just the same way, the minds of immature yogis, filled with the seeds of many desires, become restless as soon as they contact sense objects. Had they remained vigilant, renounced contact with objects, and engaged in appropriate spiritual discipline, these desires would have gradually perished and their inner being would have become radiant with the moonlight of the Dark Beauty's toenails. But they give no attention to this. Dazzled by māyā's glitter, they forget the path of discipline and begin associating with sense objects. Their dormant inner desires inevitably awaken, and their minds remain agitated. You will have many examples before you.

How full of renunciation the spiritual life appeared at its beginning! Once there was residence in a tranquil Himalayan cave. In that possessionless life, desires did not touch one even in dreams. The world seemed to have been offered into the fire of intense detachment. Then devotees came for an audience. Their earnest request awakened the pure desire to sanctify their cottage, and the shelter of the lord of mountains was abandoned for a quiet hut in a devotee's garden. More devotees gathered. Fulfilling each devotee's wish began to appear as service to Bhagavān, and accepting their entreaties began to feel like duty. Sleeping upon the ground was abandoned, the patched cloak was abandoned, and the diet of roots, tubers, and forest fruits was abandoned. In their place came a charming, soft bed; upper and lower garments of fine linen; and pleasing foods to chew, suck, lick, and drink. In the mountains the limbs had borne marks of the cold and remained covered with dust. Now every limb became smooth and polished, and flower garlands offered by devotees adorned the neck.

In such a state the mind becomes like the ocean during the rains. Therefore remain watchful. Until your mind has merged into the Dark Beauty's blessed limbs, so long as anything other than Vrajendra's son still arises within it, remain far from all contact with sense objects. Unceasingly imprint upon the mind only that sapphire-radiant form. Accept nothing external except that blueness. Never forget, even for a moment, this lesson revealed behind the meeting of Yamunā, Gaṅgā, and the ocean.

Joined by the rivers, the ocean became agitated, breathing forth waves, just as an immature yogi's desire-stricken mind is disturbed by contact with the qualities of nature.

(Śrīmad Bhāgavatam 10.20.14)

Meeting the rivers, the ocean became agitated, its waves surging until it seemed blind. So an immature yogi's mind runs outward and falls from its path upon encountering sense objects.