Chapter Eight: Literature of the Rasika Tradition in Hindi

The fresh young Couple play Phag.
Raghunandan and Sri Janakanandini hold their arms about one another’s shoulders.
Mind battles mind and eye challenges eye, while hand seizes hand.
Together they scatter abīr and sing, joining movement and note into one.

They cling breast to breast and struggle to free their hands, until lover and Sita are caught within each other’s snare.
Gyanali cannot turn her unblinking gaze from the sweetness of this Couple.

The lover’s and beloved’s eyes have grown languid,
Sleepy, reddish, and intoxicated like evening lotuses.
At one moment they close and the next they open; the companions recognise the meaning of their desire.
A flower couch has been prepared within a pavilion of flowers, and Sita and her beloved recline as their hearts wish.

Seated upon the couch with arms about one another’s shoulders, they smile gently.
Beholding this beauty of the Couple, Gyanali recognises the treasure of her own life.

Ladili and Lal, life of the world, awaken together in a net of beauty.
Sita is like a golden vine wrapped about a youthful tamala tree.
Their hair has come loose and their curls are tangled; necklaces of pearls and gems lie scattered.
Still languid and intoxicated with rasa, arms resting upon shoulders, they speak sweet upon sweet words that pierce the heart.

They gaze in turn upon one another’s moon-like faces—how could I describe the happy condition of their glances?
Gyanali says they are the rasikas’ treasure of life, finding fulfilment as lip drinks the honey of lip.

Sita dresses her beloved’s waist in yellow cloth, while he wraps a dark sari upon Sita’s fair body.
Kamala, Vimala, and the other women adorn every limb with enchanting garments and ornaments.
Spreading a carpet and placing cushions, they play caupaṛ, while I offer body and mind before them.

The two forget all awareness of food and drink; one full watch of the day has already passed.
Gyanali says the loving companions remember their hunger and lead them toward the breakfast bower.

I behold with my eyes the beauty of the two moons.
Shyama and Shyama sit upon a lovely throne, holding flower-lotuses in their hands.
Shyama wears enchanting yellow garments and Shyama dark ones; fair and dark bodies shine beneath black curls.
Red lotus hands, arrow-like eyes, bow-like brows, mischievous glances, and intoxicated movement captivate all.

Many kinds of laughter arise, sweet notes are sung, instruments sound, and women dance gently.
A watch and a half of the day has passed when a companion, delighting the connoisseurs, announces that Sita’s procession is prepared.
Distinct companies of sixty-four, eight, sixteen, thirty-two, and four appear separately.
They proceed toward the adornment bower, says Gyanali, crying victory to the Couple’s Name.