Caught in this dilemma, their hands drew back and they could neither eat nor refuse, Raghunandan—this is our gari!
Seeing fine basmati flattened rice, they asked one another, “What tree does this grow upon?” They stared here and there at curds, flattened rice, and many other foods. One warned another, “Be quiet, or all Mithila will laugh at us!” What a wondrous wedding party these residents of Mithila behold, Raghunandan—this is our gari!
Here the worship uses Vedic mantras, yet its customs are wonderfully mischievous. Proud young men like Lakshmana have their cheeks warmed and teased; they are set to pounding grain, jostled and pinched by the nose by Mithila's women. Not one clever stratagem works—they are left drenched in embarrassment. Even Narayana and the sages laugh “Ha! Ha!” at them, Raghunandan—this is our gari!
Pada 129
In what pride did you set out, Raghavaji—in what pride did you come? Dasharatha made immense efforts and Kaushalya performed austerities before you were called their son. Without spending a coin, you came to Mithila and received everything here for free! Before reaching Buxar, what great manly deed had you performed in Ayodhya? Once you entered Mithila's road, you slew Tataka and redeemed Ahalya. First you deceived all Mithila with your captivating form and brought it under your spell; then, entering the flower garden like a thief, you stole Sita's awareness. You advanced, beauty bound about you, as though setting forth for battle; hearing the anklets ring, you halted. On that autumn dawn sweat appeared upon your brow, and for one moment you lost all awareness. Pure son of Raghu—where then was your firm resolve? How did such feeling fill your mind?