Chapter Eight: Literature of the Rasika Tradition in Hindi

Day and night a pang rises within my breast.
Burned in the fire of attachment, I have become charcoal; every breath fans me and I burn again.
Struck in the heart’s most vital place, I lie dying, yet he never ceases to wound me anew.
Kripanivas says: O rasika Rama, hear the cry of this woman in separation.

Weary from questioning tree after tree and searching the forest, the Beloved comes and sits upon the riverbank.
Like a wish-fulfilling creeper bereft of its supporting tree, she withers, bends lower and lower, and falls faint upon the ground.
Her companions revive her with water, fan her, wipe away the drops of perspiration, and support her loosened body.
Kripanivas says: she asks, “Why have you hidden yourself, my heart-stealing rasika Rama?”

Friend, the dark rasika thief has stolen my heart away.
Meeting me with his clever eyes, he pressed them into my breast and tightened the twisting cord of attachment.
Smiling, subduing, and steeping me in rasa, he has swept away all my modesty before the world.
Kripanivas says: I am caught fast in the playful snare of the dashing Rama.

Dear one, never again keep such silence; your lover entreats you—smile and speak.
Why not weigh your beloved’s heart against your own and renew your love for him every day?
Why increase your anger when he is without fault? Do not mingle poison with rasa.
Kripanivas says: your beloved clings to Sita—open the curtain of your veil.

Beloved and lover dwell in love, swinging in the nectar of the rāsa.
The secret swing gleams; the Couple’s beauty appears as though Beauty’s own image were swinging.
Chandrakala and the other companions push the swing and sing, their graceful bodies swaying.
Kripanivas blossoms with joy as he beholds Janakivallabha and the beauty of the Couple.

The royal prince has attached himself to me, friend.
Wherever I go, there I behold him, helpless with love and wholly immersed in rasa.
If I lie asleep, he flashes through my dream; when I awake, he stands smiling before me.
When I look upon him with a smile, every limb blossoms auspiciously; when I show anger, he pleads, “Ah, have mercy!”
Disguising himself, he hides among my companions, steals a glance, and lifts the veil from my face.
Touching my feet, he conceals his offence and speaks honeyed words that steal the mind.
If I hide inside the palace, he rattles the window; finding me alone, he takes me in his arms.
If I go to the Sarayu on the pretext of bathing, he follows behind and makes merry in the water.
As though defeated, he comes before my house, sings my virtues, smiles, and plays the vīṇā.
Kripanivas says: the rasika bridegroom Rama forever showers the nectar of rasa for the sake of rasika devotees.