Chapter Eight: Literature of the Rasika Tradition in Hindi

The companions sing ālī songs, reveal alluring gestures and feelings, charm the lovers through love, and dance in ever-new movements, swelling with delight.
In the lovely monsoon, within sacred Pramodavana, the swing shines resplendent; Rasrangmani says joy blossoms everywhere.

Dense clouds gather and gather on every side, loudly roaring and pouring down sweet showers.
As evening falls, the youthful Lord shines with an arm about his beloved’s neck; the companions swing them, bending, dancing, and singing.
Singing and singing, they call as sweetly as cuckoos; upon the Sarayu’s bank the trees blossom as they drink the rain.
Receiving betel, Raghuraj smiles and swings low; Rasrangmani says delight spreads like shelter over every heart.

Sita and Raghubar engage in water play.
Joined by her companions and his companions, the lovely Couple are immersed in mutual love.
A new boat, beautiful beneath its canopy, moves murmuring through the current of the Sarayu.
The youthful boy and girl shine like a living swing, while the maidens dance and sing the monsoon mode Malār.
The clouds of Bhadon pour down in abundance as the two parties fill their syringes and playfully spray one another.
Beholding the Couple laugh, dwell in joy, and practise their playful deceptions, Rasrangmani makes his heart their home.

Śrī Rāma-nāma-yaśa-vilāsa

Śrī Rāma-rūpa-yaśa-vilāsa

This collection preserves Sri Ram Rasrangmani Ji’s praise of the Name and form of Bhagavan Rama in kavitt verse. It was printed at Pandit Ghasiram Tripathi’s Deshopakarak Press in Lucknow in Vikrama Samvat 1965—the source gives the corresponding year as 1900 CE.¹ From the standpoint of pure poetry, it is an excellent composition. Several examples follow:

Rama is father, joy-giving son, good brother, and loving mother—the abode of all honour.
Rama is the finest friend, the humble companion, the pure teacher, the mantra, and the Name.
Rama is the body’s protector and master, compassion for the lowly, and the giver of repose.
Rama is the lord of my life-breath, life itself, and the very life of the jīva—Sri Rama, says Rasrang.

I am Rama’s servant alone, and in Rama alone rests my hope;
Rama destroys sorrow and is my dwelling, my own eternal abode.
Rama alone is my worship; apart from Rama there is no other for me.
All eight watches of the day I remain beneath Sita-Rama’s shelter.

Rama alone is my meditation and Rama alone my knowledge;
Rasrang’s single pride is friendship with Rama, though he is Rama’s slave.
Rama alone is my royal station and my resting place; Rama alone is the aim of all I do.
I ask only of Sita-Rama, and my constant cry is “Rama, Rama!”