Chapter Eight: Literature of the Rasika Tradition in Hindi

A gold-worked robe and wedding crown shine upon him, with soft yellow cloth draped around his body.
Though overcome by love, he speaks words that preserve decorum; hearing them, Baijnath and everyone else rejoice.

Beholding Raghubar’s form delights the mind.
Countless Cupids see the lovely dark lotus face and sacrifice themselves.
A sandal mark and wedding crown rest upon his head; earrings adorn his ears and curls flash beside them.
A jewelled necklace shines and a pendant glows upon his breast, making even strings of jewels feel ashamed.
Yellow cloth at his waist rebukes lightning, and his intoxicated gait humbles the stately elephant.
Chewing betel, he smiles sweetly; the glance of his two eyes announces devastation to the heart.
Baijnath says: I lose all human awareness, and body and mind sing Rama’s virtues through all eight watches.

Brother, Raghava Ji has become a charming bridegroom.
Seeing his lovely face, Cupid is ashamed—how can any comparison be spoken?
A sandal mark and wedding crown adorn his head, while curls spread upon his cheeks.
His sweet laughter and circling glance steal consciousness away.
Earrings shine upon his ears; necklaces and a great jewel spread their beauty at his throat and breast.
Yellow garments gleam charmingly upon his limbs, but one glimpse cannot contain him within the eyes.
The stainless great toenails upon his lotus feet possess a sweet crimson glow.
Beholding the sweetness of limb after limb, Baijnath sacrifices himself.

The beauty of dark, handsome Raghunath as bridegroom
Never allows my heart to become sated, mother.
I gaze with longing and never blink; the body becomes helpless, mother.
Steeped in Shyam’s colour through all eight watches, nothing else pleases the mind, mother.
Baijnath has forgotten all awareness and reason, sinking into the sweetness held by his two eyes, mother.

Your beauty has taken possession of my heart.
Hear me, royal prince: I am naturally a modest woman of good family, filled with reverence for elders and immense shame.
Yet beholding the sweetness of your moonlike face, I can no longer maintain control of the body.
The moon depends upon the cakora, the peacock upon the cloud, and the cātaka upon a drop of Swati rain.
Recognise that this is also the condition of the young women of Janakpur and consider it within your heart.
We have no peace day or night; streams of water flow from our eyes.
Baijnath says: Raghunandan, you alone are the support of life and breath.

Today Rama and Sita have arranged the Holi festival.
In the pleasure forest every tree bursts into flower and every branch bends beneath its weight.