Chapter Eight: Literature of the Rasika Tradition in Hindi

Beholding Raghunandan’s beauty, every woman in Mithila becomes absorbed.
Earrings sway beside his ears and loose curls surround the moon of his face like a bright night.
A segmented golden crown rests upon his head, a forest garland at his throat, and great gems upon his breast.
Upon his dark-cloud body the yellow garment remains like steady lightning.
Quiver, bow, and arrows rest at his waist; women, what words can describe his happiness-giving gait?
Beholding the beautiful form from crown to toenails, all the elephant-gaited women are enchanted.
Their minds captivated and bodies overwhelmed, every woman speaks of nothing else.
Baijnath says: the destined union has now arisen—the excellent bridegroom has met sovereign Sita.

Rama has become a bridegroom of astonishing beauty.
Such a sight has never been heard of or seen by these eyes, nor was it ever before or likely to be again.
Brahma never fashioned a form equal to that of the incomparable dark royal youth.
Beholding the sweetness of his moonlike face, women forget all awareness of body and home.
Today the opportunity has come within the royal palace—leave household shame hidden in a corner.
Whoever does not open her eyes and look will later regret it bitterly enough to swallow poison.
I shall take him into my arms and make this body fruitful; my heart surges and shame no longer weighs within it.
Baijnath says: today, for the sake of Sita’s beloved, every earthly vow of fidelity is certainly lost.

Bridegroom Rama has cast some spell.
Friend, from the moment I saw that form, its image has not left my heart.
Neither fear nor shame remains within; immense love surges like a wave.
The arrows of his sidelong glance have pierced my eyes; there is no peace by day and no sleep at night.
Tears flow from both eyes across my cheeks; though I open my mouth, I cannot utter a word.
Whatever restraint remained has washed to the riverbank—no effort can stop love’s current.
I shall fill my eyes, lifting open the veil, and make this fragrant golden body fruitful.
Baijnath says: I am sold into Janakinath’s hands and no longer shrink before the world.

Friend, behold the beauty of Rama as bridegroom.
A golden wedding crown and sandal paste shine upon his head, and a jewelled necklace glitters.
Crimson dye marks his feet, bracelets shine upon his hands, and every ornament is arranged with excellence.
Baijnath says: who could describe his gait or the yellow cloth drawn tight about his waist?

Friend, royal Prince Rama has become the bridegroom.
The heart delights in him; this singular beauty appearing today cannot be expressed in words.