Chapter Eight: Literature of the Rasika Tradition in Hindi

—as may be seen in the following songs:

Dear Sita shines in the midst of the rāsa-maṇḍala, beside Rama and steeped in the colour of Rama’s nectar.
Adorned and arrayed, the crest-jewel of beauty, her loveliness enchants millions of Kamadevas and Ratis.
On such an autumn night, drunk upon moonlight, I gaze at the beauty of the twin moons.
Kripanivas is immersed in playful delight—what poet could be skilful enough to describe it?

The fresh, nectar-filled Beloved stands within the nectar of the rāsa.
He lays his arms across his companions’ shoulders, sways resplendently, and sometimes pauses to draw them to his neck.
Struck by a gust of his beauty, the companions bend and fall; filled with rapture, he catches them in a flash.
Curving glances, lightning movements, sudden starts—their tenderness does not diminish for an instant.
Lines of lovely companions adorn every side; no poet can find a simile adequate to them.
Kripanivas says: Sri Janakivallabha never departs from my eyes.

My eyes remain arrested, gazing upon that beauty.
Astonished beauties gaze at the beautiful, nectar-filled Lord, themselves absorbed in delight.
The slight flash of his teeth within a gentle smile showers piercing shafts upon the heart.
Sidelong glances from those great eyes ensnare the minds of multitudes.
The Lord of the rāsa and his beloved whirl in their play, making even Kamadeva reel.
Kripanivas says: how lovely are the eyes of Sri Janakivallabha!

Dance, friend, drenched in colour within the rāsa!
Overcome by Love’s deep intoxication, the two sportive lovers have put their arms around one another’s necks.
They unfold metres, compositions, melodies, and movements, accomplished in every art of the master dancer.
Anklets ring; fresh young mouths sing delicate phrases in sweet tones.
Tresses sway, bodies move, eyelids flutter; every limb shines in rhythm.
Kripanivas says: in the fresh bowers, youthful Sita and youthful Rama sport together.

Rama is filled with colour, a connoisseur overcome by rasa; with his beloved he is intoxicated by the nectar of the rāsa pavilion.
Amorous play surges with Love’s exhilaration, steeping every limb in sweetness.
Girdle-bells, anklets, and bracelets resound, while their eyes overflow with love.
Kripanivas says: the beautiful, pleasure-loving Couple appear radiant together.

Who but Hari knows the condition of my heart?
Through all eight watches I find no peace; my thirst for his darśana only grows.
The wound of attachment has struck me: my body’s strength has ebbed beneath that heavy blow.
Kripanivas says: O rasika Rama, take thought now for this woman consumed by separation.