Chapter Eight: Literature of the Rasika Tradition in Hindi

Look at those lovely black clouds!
As though intoxicated and eager for union with beloved Ghanshyama, they advance.
Wheeling and wheeling, touching the earth and swaying, they roar ghananananana.
Great drops pour down, and the rivers rise and rush onward.

The earth grows green, the trees blossom, and beauty spreads across the Sarayu’s sandy banks.
Hearing the dense clouds’ uproar, the peacocks call and dance, overwhelmed with happiness.
Seeing the monsoon so succulent and rasa-filled delights both the lover’s heart and his beloved.
Gyanali says Hari climbs the golden terrace and begins to sing, carefully holding each note.

Beloved, accept my petition: enjoy the season’s happiness with your lover.
This monsoon brings exquisite joy—bring the enchanter of your mind under your loving control.
Sing ever-new melodies, filled with colour, and drink the rasa of one another’s excellent lips.
Let your cakora-like eyes drink from the nectar-lake of each moon-like face.

In the vine bowers of Sri Pramodavana, give your lover the happiness he desires.
Gyanali says: with your heart’s beloved, become soaked in the joy of sweet mutual touch.

Seeing Sita’s beauty, he became a rasika and acquired the name “Rasiya.”
Therefore the form of Siyavar is delightful within the hearts of rasikas.

They gaze without blinking—
Both steal away life itself and rob the heart, companion; seeing that extraordinary beauty, the eyes remain fixed.
The beloved is coloured by her lover’s beauty and is therefore called Shyama;
The lover is coloured by his beloved’s beauty and is therefore dark Shyama—both roam as connoisseurs of rasa.

Seeing the beauty of lover and beloved, Gyanali’s mind is captivated; the seed of love sprouts within her heart, and she becomes intoxicated again.

O connoisseurs of rasa, swing upon the swing and move with sweet delight.
The heart grows fearful and the body trembles, for the beloveds are tender in years and sweet beyond comparison.

Their youth is sweet and they are abodes of beauty; their limbs possess the splendour of millions of Love-gods.
Fresh and accomplished lovers, oceans of happiness, they surge with ever-new delight.
Beautiful Shyama and enchanting Shyama reveal beauty in every limb.

Raghuraj’s son is sovereign of rasikas, greedy for rasa and a treasury of rasa.
He appreciates rasa, brings others beneath rasa’s sway, and is the very life-breath of rasikas.
Gyanali gives herself in sacrifice before you—how could she ever forget?

Companion, lovely monsoon is filled with rasa.
Sita has come to swing with her dear beloved, spreading a canopy of beauty.