Chapter Eight: Literature of the Rasika Tradition in Hindi

Dark beloved, how am I to keep courage in my heart?
Without beholding your dark form, tears stream from my eyes.
You and I know one another’s hearts, while mother-in-law and husband’s sister remain heartless.
Seeing you from moment to moment awakens rasa; separation makes the whole body distraught.
None but beloved Raghubir can remove Shyam Sakhe’s pain.

Who has cast this bewilderment upon me, friend?
In the first bloom of youth I continually tremble, burning in Cupid’s immeasurable anguish as passion flows through every limb.
In Ashadha the rain begins; Sawan makes every swing feel like a thorn.
The frightening nights of Bhadon terrify my heart.
In Ashvin the forest lotus remains closed without its sun.
In Kartik I offer worship to the sun; in Agahan I draw out and adorn the parting of my hair, yet grieve as I remember my absent beloved again and again.
Shyam Sakhe says: my breast longs for his arms—come, bring my lost beloved home.

Dear one, remain with your husband in his family home.
All five companions from the natal house have become enemies.
Whatever still remained was spoiled by the husband’s sister.
I abandoned the company of all twenty-five companions; only the repetition “Beloved, beloved” possesses me now.
Shyam Sakhe says: I have become a blessed married woman and shall never again turn back toward the natal home.

I cannot climb to my husband’s high terrace.
My skirt has fifteen panels and twenty-five strings of pearls.
My beloved’s terrace lies very far above,
And sharp pains repeatedly rise through my waist.
Shyam Sakhe says: my heart swells and swells under the power of rasa; friend, may I be joined with my husband.

How can I climb to the terrace?
The beloved’s red pavilion rises through three storeys; I feel shy before my husband’s couch.
My five companions have turned against me, and I am afraid whenever I see any of the five.
Shyam Sakhe says: dressed as a lovely bride, I stand waiting and regret my hesitation.

The memory of my husband from the dream has returned.
I wander through the courtyard like a madwoman.
Day has become dark and night radiant; the husband’s younger brother calls me in ever-new ways.
Shyam Sakhe remains in the palace of the sky—why did my beloved depart?