Source page 102

Your head bowed, the victory garland was placed upon you—and one special thing occurred: you gained a wife, your aim was won, and a treasury of joy rained down. Everyone was drenched as though beneath a monsoon cloud, Raghunandan—this is our gari!

In all fourteen worlds the wedding news brought joy and preparations began. Chariots, elephants, horses, camels, palanquins, garments, and every conveyance were assembled. Gods, human beings, and sages joined the varied procession with hearts full of delight. The whole company was incomparable—yet one thing remained lacking: the women of Ayodhya had not come! Seeing the bridegroom's procession, the world was blessed, Raghunandan—this is our gari!

The residents of Ayodhya received every heart-desired and heaven-rare delight, ever fresh; they forgot their own homes and doorways entirely. Three months of hospitality and continual eating made every guest grow round. Hearing our rich, mischievous gari, their hearts became sweet as rasgullas. Meanwhile the women of Ayodhya counted the stars until dawn, Raghunandan—this is our gari!

All six flavors and every dish were served before the four brothers, yet none of you could lift a morsel; you only sat smiling softly. In your stories you toss the universe about like a little ball, but in deed even a single sweet laddu became too heavy to raise! Covering your face with a handkerchief, you smiled gently, Raghunandan—this is our gari!

One day everyone was served lentils, rice, greens, and curds; when no other dish appeared, the men of Ayodhya lost their patience. They rolled up their sleeves and hastily began to eat. Then all the other dishes arrived at once—now let us see whether they eat them or not!