Chapter Eight: Literature of the Rasika Tradition in Hindi

Graceful waves rise everywhere, awakening laughter and delight.
In charming Sawan, every green shoot springs from the earth and blossoms.

Sita’s beloved youth swings there—Rama, Rama; youthful Sita!
Crimson and golden pillars are beautiful, and the lovely crossbar glows red.
Red colour flashes upon their limbs and fine crimson garments shine.
The faces of the two beloveds possess such beauty, with folded betel at their lips.
The cherished companions sing red-coloured songs, and all swing the beloved Pair.
Peacocks, swans, cakoras, and cuckoos utter countless cries.
The beloveds delight in one another, while every dear companion rejoices.
Kripanivas beholds that happy vision and his eyes attain fulfilment.

The two swing upon a colourful swing—
Dasharatha’s son and Janaka’s daughter, thieves who steal consciousness with a glance.
Tiny drops fall and the eastern wind blows gently everywhere.
The earth is lush and green; cloudbanks bend low and send waves across the Sarayu.
Vimala and all the companions sing in their own places.
The accomplished beloved calls her lover’s name, and Sita laughs as she turns her face.
Companies of horses, elephants, chariots, and footmen form ranks on every side.
Birds call within the garden—cuckoo, peacock, and cakora.
Instruments begin sounding from every direction like dense clouds rumbling.
Dancer after dancer moves, and the young enchanters sound the phrase tātā, theī.

Beloved Sita Ji swings upon the swing.
Its supremely lovely pillars are golden, fashioned and adorned by Love himself.
Its auspicious crossbar is set with jewels, and a beautiful jewelled seat and garlands grace it.
Rama and Janaki shine upon it, receiving sweet, delightful pushes.
Their glances steal one another’s hearts and expand the rasa of bliss.
The incomparable beauty is supremely lovely; ten million Cupids and Ratis surrender to it.
Friend Rupalata takes hold of the swing and, beholding them, loses all understanding.
Whenever awareness returns, she swings them again, intoxicated and saturated with rasa.
The raincloud pours delightfully, while showers of affection burst forth.
Those fortunate ones who become drenched praise the beloved’s feet again and again.
How can one describe the happiness that surged through this conscious divine recreation?
Beholding the vilāsa, Kripanivas’s eyes attain supreme happiness.