Chapter Eight: Literature of the Rasika Tradition in Hindi

Friend, how charming is Sita’s bridegroom!
Sacrifice the beauty of ten million Cupids to him: circle fistfuls before his face and place a protective mark upon his brow.
My heart is afraid that somewhere along the city road some companion may cast a spell upon him.
I shall go and cling about his neck; the one who has filled me with this enchantment will not let me rest.
Calamity has descended upon Janaka’s city: food, drink, and sleep at night have all been abandoned.
Sri Raghuraj says: for the sake of this bridegroom crowned with his wedding chaplet, I too must now become a wandering beggar.

Friend, today Ayodhya’s young prince and Mithila’s young princess have assumed incomparable attire.
Their two eyes exchange signals and bring one another peace; their lovely beauty puts both Love and Cupid to shame.
Their limbs are coloured with fragrant pigment and their hearts with love; a spotless moonlike ornament rests upon the turban.
They smile and converse, dealing immeasurable blows of joy; in a lotuslike hand rests a lotus bud.
A saffron jet from the water-syringe has struck the body, fruitfully dispelling the oppressive heat.
Sri Raghuraj says: the royal Pair are radiant; the lovely companions sacrifice themselves upon beholding them.

Raghubar plays Holi with Sita
In a bliss-filled bower upon the bank of the Sarayu,
Adorned by millions of happy, beautiful women.
The forest is supremely lovely, graced by golden palaces;
Three kinds of delightful wind blow through it again and again.
Jasmine, muchukunda, and clustered blossoms give delight;
The youthful trees of Nandana forest stand laden with flowers.

The broad earth is filled with countless flowers and excellent pollen.
Graceful channels release streams of saffron-coloured water.
Flocks of melodious parrots and cuckoos cry out and confer delight,
While every droplet cools the bank of the Sarayu.

Vina, ḍaph, flute, hand-cymbals, mṛdaṅga,
Jew’s harp, and sāraṅgī—all those instruments resound there.
Young women, filled with love, sing melodies in many rāgas
And prepare manifold pleasures throughout the garden.

Beautiful golden water-syringes discharge their streams;
Saffron mud rises everywhere, marvellously mixed with many colours.
Rank after rank of graceful young women dances;
With love they join handsome Raghulal in this auspicious revelry.