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Picture the deep grove at the heart of the night. The village lamps are out, the cowherd folk of Nanda's house lie sleeping, and into a black forest crossed with thorn and thick with wild creatures a tender prince has come walking, alone. He is the jewel of His family, the very breath of His mother and father, the pride of a spotless and famous dynasty. His kinsmen cannot bear to lose sight of Him for the span of an hour; they cannot live a moment without seeing His face. Yet here He is at midnight, careless of His own safety, careless of what the village will whisper when His bed is found empty. Why? For one reason only. For You, O Radhe.

Now come into a sweeter corner of that same forest. Svamini sits enthroned in a sweet arbour of Madhavi-vines, and She is displeased. No one quite knows the cause of this mana, this loving anger that has settled over Her like a soft cloud; and Shyama Himself, unable to soften Her, has taken shelter among the sakhis. They in turn, knowing the kinkaris to be matchless at this delicate art, set the maidservants to the holy duty of melting Shrimati's pride. And one such kinkari, receiving that order as the dearest of gifts, thinks within herself: I know how to loosen the knot in my Swamini's heart. I will sing to Her of Her own Beloved. I will tell Her how Krishna, who is a very mine of every jewel-like virtue, has thrown the whole treasury away for love of Her alone, and clings to Her and Her only.

So she comes near and begins, soft and certain. O Shri Radhe, hear me. Vrajendra-nandana, the son of the King of Vraja, is so utterly subdued by Your love that He has cast off shame as one casts off a worn garment. He has set aside fear. He has trampled the iron custom of family underfoot. Look, O Swamini, look how this delicate boy has come into the depths of the forest in the dead of night, only to meet You. He is the very life of His house, and His people perish without Him, yet He does not pause to count their tears. He is the crown-jewel of Nanda Maharaja's bright and honored line, yet He does not flinch though that honor be stained by the world's hard talk of His love for You. Fear pulls one way, shyness another, lineage another, fame and fortune yet others; here is fear, here is modesty, here is family, here is renown, here is wealth, and He, maddened with longing for You, severs every last one of these shackles as though they were threads.

And mark the tender name she chooses for Him: sakhi-nivasa, the One who now dwells among the sakhis. The clever maidservant calls Him this on purpose, for two reasons folded into one. He dwells among the sakhis now only because You have turned Your face from Him, and He has nowhere else to rest His sorrow but in their company; and the sakhis, who hold Svamini bound in the soft cords of their own love, will rejoice past all telling when She takes Him back. So the very name is a plea. It says: O Radhe, You are bound by us who love You, and we long for Your reconciliation. Sakhi-nivasa, who in the Radhavallabha telling is named Shri Lalji, has broken every moral fetter of the world for You, and You, You alone, are making Him grieve by being angry with Him for no fault at all.

For here is the secret the maidservant carries like a lamp: of all the countless splendors of Shri Krishna, the one that towers above the rest is His love for those who love Him. Subdued by that love, He will do what the world calls unthinkable, and it is in just such deeds that His tenderness blazes brightest. The tradition sings it in the old Caitanya-Bhagavata refrain, ki na bole ki na kore bhaktera karane: what will Krishna not do, what will He not say, for the sake of His devotee? For His devotee's sake He felled Bali from Sugriva's side; for His devotee's sake He swallowed the raging forest fire whole; of His own free will He becomes the servant of His own servants. He who is unbound binds Himself in love. He who is fearless trembles for His beloved. This is the wonder the kinkari sets before Radha's heart.

And see what happens as the words fall. Proud Radhika, hearing how Her Krishna lies conquered by Her own love, cannot hold Her mana any longer. The cloud of pique thins and lifts. A small smile, soft as an unopened bud, sprouts at the corner of Her mouth. Her desire for Mohana, the all-enchanting one, wakes again and floods Her, and Her voice goes faltering, sa-gadgadam, broken sweetly with feeling. And then, oh then, She turns to the maidservant and asks, "How? How was it? Katham, katham, tell me again, how is it that He has done this?" In the Radhavallabha key the same question rings as "kya-kya?", what, what was it? She asks not because She has not heard. She asks because there is no end to Her thirst to hear it. She wants it again, and again, and yet again, every detail of how Her Beloved cast the whole world away for Her.

And the maidservant, that expert artist-girl, takes up the slate of Radhika's heart and paints upon it a fresh and sweeter picture of Krishna's every sweet attribute. Raghunatha Dasa Gosvami fixes it in a single shining line, krishna-nama-yasha-sravavatamsollasi-karnikam: Krishna's names and fame and glories are the very ornaments hanging at Radhika's ears, decorations She can never weary of wearing. Her ears are not filled; Her mind is not filled; the more the maidservant pours, the more Svamini leans in and asks for more. And the clever kinkari, seeing the great relish, the boundless taste with which her Swamini drinks this nectar, goes on and on and on, glorifying the Beloved, with no thought of stopping, because the joy of feeding that thirst is itself her heaven.

It is into this scene that the longing of this song rises and aches, and the tradition names that longing the Manohara Manoratha, the enchanting wish. O my Ishvari, the heart cries, when? When shall that fortune fall to me? When shall I be the maidservant standing at Your side with the trembling voice and the picture of Krishna in my mouth? When will You turn to me with that budlike smile, laughing softly in Your renewed desire, and ask me, "How? How was it?", that I may tell You over and over how Mohana broke every chain for You? That is the whole of the prayer. Not to be loved by Krishna. Not even to look upon Krishna. Only this: to serve the joy of Radha by being the one who tells Her, again and again, how completely She is loved.