Chapter Eight: Literature of the Rasika Tradition in Hindi

Sita performs all sixteen adornments, stealing the heart of Awadhesh’s prince.
Vermilion fills her hair-parting, her oiled braid is artfully arranged, and a sandal mark bestows immense happiness.
She eats betel and speaks gentle words; her flashing teeth steal the Lord’s composure.
Ornaments inlaid with jewels, crescents, and other decorations delight the mind upon every limb.

Gems and rubies are threaded into her garments, while even without gold her limbs shine exceedingly.
A tightly fitted bodice, skirt, and other garments are brought;
Her veil is dark Shyama’s colour, says Ramsakhe, and she is a treasury of beauty.

Upon a golden lotus rests Awadh,
Whose city and palaces are immeasurably magnificent.
Its marvellous form, painted pericarp, and adornments
Are fragrant with aloe and possess five colours beyond the created worlds.

A brilliant canopy has been fashioned, its pendant drops the essence of sportive rasa.
Bees roam through nectar-filled blossoms, says Ramsakhe,
While the companions selflessly serve both Sita and Rama.

Within the incomparable ocean of Rama’s form
There is neither boat nor shore.
Whatever the eyes see there
Sinks into the fathomless depth and finds no bottom.

Whoever turns toward it cannot turn back;
The one who tried remains pulled onward.
Ramsakhe, reflect as you wish—
The heart follows the true line of iron drawn by a magnet.

Love’s sword lies unsheathed in the loose curls; eyes and brows are drawn like bows.
Once struck, no one escapes upon the battlefield—not heroes, lords of sages, or mighty warriors.
Between the rounded cheeks the mind lies wounded, intoxicated and filled with longing.
Ramsakhe says the smile, bright teeth, and pearl at the nose bring the pain to its culmination.

At the divine confluence, waves of play arise and the lovely Lady sports and inspires sport.
Waves of beauty swell, every heart’s delight rises, and lover and beloved charm one another.
Countless delicate, curving graces of Kosala bow even millions of Mount Merus.
Ramsakhe says King Dasharatha’s Lal is soaked in rasa—come, let us delight in him.