Canto Ten - Chapter 20

Śrī Śuka said: The cowherd boys told the women about Kṛṣṇa and Balarāma's wondrous deeds, their deliverance from the forest fire and the killing of Pralamba.

Hearing these accounts, the elder cowherd men and the gopīs were amazed and concluded that Kṛṣṇa and Rāma, the foremost of gods, had come to Vraja.

Then the rainy season began, giving fresh life to every creature. Lightning encircled the horizon and thunder resounded across the sky.

Covered by dense, dark clouds with lightning and thunder, the sky's lights became indistinct, and it appeared like Brahman manifest together with material qualities.

During the previous eight months the sun had drunk the earth's watery wealth through its rays. When the proper season arrived, Parjanya began releasing that water again.

Great clouds heavy with lightning, shaken by powerful winds, poured forth the water that nourishes and sustains this world, like compassionate people giving life to others.

Emaciated by summer's austerity, the earth was replenished by the gods' rain and grew full, like the body of one whose desire is fulfilled after performing austerity for a cherished object.

At nightfall the fireflies shone through the darkness while the planets did not, just as in the age of Kali false doctrines shine because of sin while the Vedas remain obscured.

Hearing the thunder of the rainclouds, the frogs began to call, like brāhmaṇa students who had lain silent and then recited when their period of discipline ended.

The small streams, which had nearly dried up, overflowed and strayed from their proper courses, like the body, possessions and wealth of a person who has no self-mastery.

The earth became green with fresh grass, red with indragopa insects and shaded by mushrooms, appearing like a person suddenly endowed with royal splendor.

Fields rich with crops brought joy to the farmers but remorse to the proud who did not understand that all results depend upon providence.

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

Joined by the rivers, the ocean became agitated with wind-driven waves, like the mind of an immature yogī disturbed by desire and attachment to the modes.

Though struck by torrents of rain, the mountains felt no pain, just as those whose consciousness rests in Adhokṣaja are not disturbed when hardships overwhelm them.

Roads left untended became uncertain beneath a covering of grass, like Vedic teachings obscured by time when brāhmaṇas no longer study them.

Lightning showed fickle friendship toward the clouds, benefactors of the world, and would not remain with them, like lustful women who are unsteady toward virtuous men.

Indra's rainbow, though without a string, shone in the cloud-filled sky, just as the attributeless Supreme Person appears within the manifest interplay of the modes without becoming bound by them.

The moon did not shine when covered by clouds illuminated by its own light, just as the self is obscured by the false ego that its own consciousness makes visible.

The peacocks joyfully greeted the arrival of the clouds as a festival, like householders scorched and wearied by worldly life who rejoice when devotees of Acyuta arrive.

Drinking water through their roots, the trees, formerly lean and exhausted by austerity, manifested many forms of growth, like ascetics who enjoy desired objects after attaining the fruit of their austerity.

O King, cranes continued living along the agitated banks of restless lakes, like worldly-minded people of corrupt intelligence who remain in homes filled with endless disturbances.

When the Lord of rain poured down, torrents broke the embankments, just as in the age of Kali the false arguments of heretics break the path of the Vedas.

Driven by the winds, the clouds released nectar for all beings, just as rulers, prompted by brāhmaṇas, distribute blessings to their people at the proper times.

Thus Hari, accompanied by Balarāma and surrounded by cows and cowherd boys, entered that luxuriantly rain-soaked forest, rich with ripe dates and rose apples, to enjoy His play.

The cows walked slowly beneath the great weight of their udders, yet when Bhagavān called them they hurried affectionately toward Him, milk flowing from their teats.

He saw the forest dwellers delighted, rows of trees dripping honey, streams pouring down the mountain and caves nearby that echoed the water's roar.

When rain fell, Bhagavān sometimes entered the hollow of a tree or a cave and enjoyed Himself there, eating roots, tubers and fruit.

Together with Saṅkarṣaṇa and the cowherd boys, who were worthy companions at His meal, He ate rice mixed with yogurt that they had brought, seated upon a rock beside the water.

They watched the bulls and young calves resting upon the grass, chewing with eyes closed, and the satisfied cows weary from the burden of their udders.

Seeing the beauty of that rainy season, which brought pleasure throughout the year and was expanded by His own potency, Bhagavān honored it with appreciative attention.

While Rāma and Keśava lived in Vraja in this way, autumn arrived, cloudless, with clear water and gentle winds.

With the arrival of autumn and the blossoming of lotuses, the waters returned to their natural clarity, like the minds of those who have fallen from yoga but return to its practice.

Autumn removed the clouds from the sky, the muddiness of living forms, the mire from the earth and the contamination from the water, just as devotion to Kṛṣṇa removes the impurities of those in every spiritual station.

Having given away everything they possessed, the clouds shone with pure white splendor, like peaceful sages who have renounced every worldly pursuit and become free from sin.

The mountains sometimes released pure water and sometimes did not, just as those who possess knowledge may or may not bestow its nectar at the proper time.

Creatures living in shallow water did not notice that the water was diminishing, just as foolish householders do not see that their lifespan is decreasing day by day.

The creatures in shallow water suffered from the autumn sun, like a miserly, impoverished householder with uncontrolled senses who suffers worldly distress.

Gradually the dry land gave up its mud and the plants their unripeness, as wise people gradually abandon identification and possessiveness toward the body and other things that are not the self.

At the coming of autumn the ocean became still and silent, like a sage who has perfectly withdrawn the senses and has ceased reciting ritual injunctions after becoming established in the Self.

Farmers contained the water in their fields with strong embankments, as yogīs prevent the outflow of awareness through the senses by controlling the vital airs.

The moon removed the suffering created in living beings by the autumn sun, just as wisdom removes the suffering born of bodily identification and Mukunda removed the suffering of Vraja's women.

The cloudless sky, filled with clear autumn stars, shone like a mind endowed with purity that perceives the meaning of the revealed Word.

Surrounded by hosts of stars, the full-orbed moon shone in the sky like Kṛṣṇa, Lord of the Yadus, surrounded upon the earth by the circle of Vṛṣṇis.

Embracing the flower-scented forest breeze, which was balanced between heat and cold, the people cast off their discomfort, but the gopīs, whose hearts Kṛṣṇa had stolen, could not.

In autumn the cows, deer, birds and women became fertile and were followed by their respective mates, just as actions performed for the Lord are followed by their fruits.

When the sun rose, the lotuses blossomed but the night-blooming lilies did not, just as under a strong king the people become fearless while thieves cannot flourish, O King.

Rich with ripened grain, the earth shone throughout towns and villages with first-fruit offerings and great festivals, especially through the two portions of Hari's worship.

Merchants, sages, kings and initiated students emerged to pursue their purposes when the season arrived, having been confined by the rains, just as perfected souls attain their chosen destinations when freed from the body.