Суд над Бхагавад-гитой / Attempt to ban Bhagavad-gita

In no time, I will quickly come to assist Your morning
bathing and dressing and help adorn your delicate limbs with
what I know to be Your favorite, exquisitely fashioned, dazzling
sapphire-spangled golden ornaments. After massaging Your
delightful figure with exceptionally fragrant seasonal oils and
helping to blissfully shower You with an abundance of
refreshing flower-scented water, I will remove Your thin white
bathing garment, carefully pat You dry with a luxuriant, soft silk
towel, and, at Shrimati Lalita Devi’s behest, gift You with new
lavishly lacey undergarments lovingly made by me. I will then
carefully dry and comb your long curly tresses and, in the
dressing room, as my friends help to tie Your sari, I will, on the
pretext of fastening Your jeweled ankle-bells, placing my head
beneath Your skirt where no one can notice me secretly kissing
the tips of Your sweet and delicate toes, offer my life’s breath a
million times over in the dust of Your lotus feet. With a happy
heart, I will loosely place above Your incomparably gorgeous,
shapely buttocks, which captivate the unruly eyes of Your
beloved Shyamasundara, a sweetly tinkling crystal-belled
kinkini belt. As my priya-sakhis, upon my request, place
sparkling toe-rings on Your toes, jeweled rings on Your fingers,
and many thin, delicately chiming alternating gold and sapphire
bracelets on Your wrists, I will adorn Your lovely, pure, plump
breasts with heavenly, fragrant kunkuma and dexterously paint
upon them varieties of mind-alluring pictures with kasturi musk.
I will place around Your beautiful neck delightful pearl
necklaces, a gunja-mala, a fine and most meritorious garland of
tulasi leaves, and aromatic garlands of bela and campaka
flowers, all simply to mesmerize the already enamored heart of
beloved Shyama! I will intertwine Your beautiful serpent-like
braid with supra-celestial bakula and jasmine strands bearing
divine redolence known only to the transcendental forest of


Vrindavana, and, with a smirky smile, I will intermittently place,
wherever possible, the plumes of a peacock, knowing Your mind
to be intently absorbed in happy thoughts of Shyama’s
embrace.

He Radhe! Knowing me to be well attuned to the inner
ways of Your heart of hearts, You will tenderheartedly beam at
me with the sweetest radiance. The sight of this will bring
rippling waves of delightful moonbeam smiles to my priya-
sakhis’ moon-like faces! When I hold before You a glistening
sapphire-framed, highly polished golden mirror, You will see
how I so perfectly decorated Your charmingly lovely, rosy-
cheeked honey-face with an exquisite honey-pearl nose-ring,
dangling dark-blue crystal earrings, and a kama-yantra-tilaka.
Noticing Your elegant hair part, marked with crimson mind-
alluring sindura pretentiously proclaiming Your faithfulness
toward Your so-called husband, You will gently smile, becoming
absorbed in the veiled ecstasy of paramour love. With fondness,
You will favor how I faultlessly ornamented your crest with an
effulgent sapphire-bejeweled candrika along with a nicely placed
blue-sapphire mangtika, dangling to border Your curly hairline.
You will see how I carefully painted indescribably enchanting
gopi-dots around the playful cupid-bow eyebrows adorning Your
limitlessly compassionate kajjala-lined eyes and perfectly placed
a splendid musk-dot on Your sweet chin. All these will have
magnificently embellished the inexhaustible loveliness of Your
luxuriant, deep-crimson sari which redoubles Shyama’s
insatiable passion to touch You. Thus beholding Your own
boundless beauty in the mirror, You will all but swoon with a
wish to be at once ravished by the lovelorn, reddish, lotus-petal
eyes of Your dark honeybee-like lover whose supreme honey-
love goddess is none other than my limitlessly lovable You!
Kundavalli will then arrive with a message from Nandagrama. At
that time I will solace You by encouraging You to comply with
Mother Yashoda’s request that You come quickly to cook for
Krishna. Hiding my smile when You openly rebuke me for
enthusiastically supporting such a potentially scandalous affair
within the earshot of Your superiors, I will offer my eternal
dedication to the service of Your lotus feet again and again!


He Radhike! When will my most merciful guru-rupa-sakhi,
to whom I eternally owe my everything, invite me to accompany
You and Your impassioned sakhis to the palatial home of Nanda
Maharaja atop lofty Nand…shvara Hill? There, I will help You
cook an incredibly sumptuous breakfast love-feast for the
pleasure of Shyamasundara and His cowherd boyfriends. When
Mother Yashoda greets us and requests the kinkaris to go to the
bhoga-mandira to make necessary preparations for Your blissful
cooking festival, I will build nicely blazing fires of first-class
cedar wood and engage a few of my friends in helping to keep
them ablaze. Moving like a fire brand, simultaneously cooking
many varieties of tasty dishes, You, being too busy, will instruct
me to quickly stir the pot of rich, creamy milk so it doesn’t
burn. As I am stirring, stirring, and stirring, the milk will
suddenly become thick, thicker, and thickest, upon which You
will order me to quickly add the pre-measured ground
cardamom and rock-candy powder, take everything off the
stove, spread the contents to cool on a marble slab, and roll it
all into nectarean, buttery burfi balls. I will all the while marvel
as You mercifully include Your loving milkmaid in Your loving
services to Your very own beloved Shyama!

He Rdhe! After honey-faced Shyamasundara returns with
His friends from milking the cows and is nicely bathed and
dressed, He will blissfully sit amidst all the boys and eat the
fabulously fragrant breakfast feast, praising the amazing variety
of tasty delicacies. Everyone will float on the waves of ever-
hungry Madhumangala’s unlimitedly humorous wit punctuated
by the unabashed, intoxicating hasya-rasa of all the jovial
cowherd boys. All the while, Shyama will search out the glowing
golden treasure of Your fairest features through the kitchen
window to offer You the nectar of His evocative sidelong
glances. At that time I will do everything within my power to
mitigate Your acute loving afflictions redoubled by the
unfeasibility of intimately meeting with Him in the presence of
His mothers and friends, let alone through the kitchen window.

Afterwards, I will relish a little of the ambrosial remnants
of His adharamrita-prasada personally given to me by Your own
munificent hand. Being especially kind upon me, You will take


me with You to the prearranged morning rendezvous with Your
beloved Shyama within a cave on Nandishvara Hill. When, as I
fan the two of You in the wake of Your luscious love play, will I
shyly lower my smiling face upon hearing Him curiously ask
You, “Who made those nectarean, buttery burfi balls?” To show
special causeless mercy upon Your unworthy, insignificant
milkmaid, You will silently tell about me to Your Krishna with
the indications of Your cupid’s bow eyebrows as Your smiling
eyes mercifully dance in my direction.

In the late morning, Shyama will leave His father’s house
for cow-herding, along with all of His happy, playful gopa-
balakas. He, in various ways, will politely persuade His anxious
parents to desist from following Him to the forest, just to give
His bosom buddies the opportunity to freely frolic with Him to
their hearts’ content. When will I, greatly anticipating the
distresses of Your heart, witness with my own eyes the torment
of the whole of Vraja as they tearfully return to their respective
homes? I will weep to see You collapse into the arms of Your
sakhis as they mercilessly carry You back to the gloom of
Mother Jatila’s jailhouse. I will again and again hear You
anxiously beg to be born as a bird so that You may freely fly
from the confines of household imprisonment to the company of
Your beloved Shyama. Again and again I will hear Your
desperate plea to be reborn as a bamboo to get the opportunity
to drink the nectar of His honey-moonbeam smiling kissy-lips by
becoming His hand-held playful flute. Again and again You will
praise the fortune of His shark-shaped earrings that
unabashedly kiss His soft, sweetly shining cheeks. Repeatedly
engulfed by intense feelings of separation, You will sardonically
eulogize Giri Govardhana as hari-dasa-varya, knowing full well
the incomparably superlative satisfaction Shyama feels by
placing His delicate lotus feet upon the supremely rapturous
mountain slopes of Your firm, amatively swollen breasts. Again
and again You will beg to become like the river Yamuna, that
You might swiftly flow unchecked to the ocean of Shyama’s
unfathomable sweetness. You will fervently pray to become a
breeze, rushing unhindered to whisk away the fragrance of His
person. As You place Your newly made garland of forest flowers


in the hands of the expert maidservant Tulasi to take to Your
beloved, You will flood with a passion to become that very
garland placed upon His broad, handsome sapphire chest.
Plaintively pining but hardly solaced by the succor of Your
sakhis, You will again and again languish by longing to become a
madhavi creeper whose tender tendrils curl to enclasp the torso
of a certain youthful Shyama tamala tree within a forest bower.

When will we, with renewed enthusiasm and happy hearts,
escape the looming prison walls of insufferable separation? On
the pretext of accompanying You and Your sakhis to pick
flowers for worship of the Sun-god, I will take You to a sanketa-
kunja by the side of Your limitlessly lovely lake. Anxiously
anticipating the nectar flood of Your fabulously festive midday
pastimes, I will lovingly reflect upon Your amorous delusions as
I witness You flirtatiously feigning indifference toward a tamala
tree as we hasten along the forest path!

In the suspense of Your lover’s imminent arrival, You will
see Him everywhere, in all directions. Again and again, listlessly
rising up from Your exquisitely ornamented flowerbed within
the jewel-bedecked bower-house, You will impatiently gaze
from the doorway down the forest path, and again and again
You will return to sink in the ever-rising tide of Your desperation
to see Him. When will I bathe Your two exquisitely beautiful
lotus feet with an incessant flood of tears as You, experiencing a
moment as if a millennium, anxiously apprehend the failure of
Your now-much-overdue beloved Shyama’s arrival at our
prearranged tryst? Repeatedly imploring You to patiently
remain just a few moments longer, I will suddenly notice His
rakishly smiling eyes winking at me through the window lattice
of the kunja cottage.

“Not so fast, buster! She’s our property! Don’t touch! We
just took so much time and trouble to exquisitely dress and
ornament Her and You want to ravage everything in a moment!
Do You think You can so freely have our svamini just because
You desire Her? I know You! If You want to realize Your wanton
wishes, You’ll have to pay the price: unswerving loyalty to the
service of the dust of Her limitlessly luscious lotus feet!
Otherwise, go! Go to Shaibya’s friend Candravali! She’s easy! Her


maidservants will eagerly make all the arrangements!” He
Radhe! Boldly asserting the truth of our preeminent proprietary
status, I will pull You behind smiling Lalita, who will stand as a
formidable fortress to ensure the intensification of Your
pleasure pastimes.

Incorrigible Shyama, adopting a disdainful demeanor, will
scornfully smile and flagrantly demand, “What did she say? Who
is this insolent new kinkari anyway? Would she stand so
valiantly if Kandarpa-raja forcibly waged war against her
charming bodily beauty in a cave of Govardhana Hill? If he ever
laid his hands on her, he would definitely teach her a dance or
two!” At that instant, I will quickly hide my jubilantly blushing
self behind my unlimitedly beautiful You to ensure the
intensification of Your pleasure pastimes!

He Radhike! When inconceivably clever Shyama, to
everyone’s astonishment, suddenly eludes the comprehension
of all, somehow penetrating our impervious phalanxes to bind
You in the stronghold of His tight embrace, I will, on Your
indication, stealthily spirit away with His mischievous flute!
Shyama, being mesmerized by the intoxicating fragrance of
Your person, will not at all understand what has happened. At
that time, I will beseech that best descendant of the bamboos,
“O best procuress of the wants of He who loosens the hair-
braids of the innocent gopi girls of Vraja! O you, who,
empowered by our svamini, force the formidable fortresses of
their bodices to give way under the sway of their impassioned
recollection of His indomitable handsomeness! O you, who,
guilty of drinking the ambrosial nectar of the lusty lips of
Radha’s supremely libertine lover boy, wish to escape the
discontent of the deer-eyed gopis to whom that nectar actually
belongs by returning the stolen property a thousandfold! O
wanton vamsi, I know you! The next time Shyama sweetly
presses your mouth to His bimba fruit lips, in His quest to
conquer the pride of the kinkaris, please mercifully whisper into
His ear how we are burning with the desire to attain Him in the
service of our svamini!” I will then secretly slip the vamsi behind
my back to Ananga Manjari who will in turn covertly consign it
to the custody of Lalita Devi. He Radhe! You will then, by the


strength of Your unblemished honor and reputation as a chaste
housewife, manage to free Yourself after a little struggle.
Glancing in all directions, You will sternly admonish all of the
sakhis with Your tightly knitted eyebrows while earnestly
endeavoring to retie the loosened sash about Your trembling
hips.

As entranced Shyama playfully approaches and
dexterously catches the corner of Your sari, You will coyly
smile while looking askance, frowning Your restless, cupid’s-
bow-like eyebrows. Your soft, doe-like eyes will ambivalently
rejoice and brim with tears. Your lusciously quivering bimba
fruit lips will reveal Your intense inner joy. While strenuously
struggling to resist the ambush of His brazenly adventurous
fingers, You will outwardly reproach Your lover by lightly
bopping Him on the head with the play lotus in Your delicate
hand. “Don’t touch me! We’ve just bathed for our worship of the
Sun-god! How will our offerings be suitable if we are sullied by a
rapacious rake like You?” When will I be so privileged with this
sight of Your sweetest kila-kincita and kuttamita moods, which
profoundly delight Shyama with an indescribable happiness
millions of times over and above the bliss He obtains from
complete union?

He Svamini Radhe! Just then, Vrinda Devi, smiling to see
the fun, will intervene, saying to You both, “Hey You two rasika
lovers! The abhijita-muhurta is quickly approaching! Best we not
waste these auspicious moments with any unnecessary
quarreling! If You want to soundly succeed in the consummation
of King Cupid’s loving game plan, then quickly come with all of
Your sakhis to see the beauty of the monsoon forest! This forest
is complimented by the jubilant dancing of many peacocks and
is specially arrayed with a myriad of swings. These swings were
just now fabulously decorated for the pleasure of Your eyes and
the happiness of Your hearts by my expert vana-devi
maidservants!”

At that time, You, being so petitioned, will relent and
sweetly consent to happily traverse the dark monsoon-cloud-
shaded forest path with Your arms about Your glorious dark
monsoon-cloud-shaded lover. Eagerly intent upon climbing onto


the best of all swings with His best of all transcendental
sweethearts, Ghanashyama will fill our hearts with ever-
expanding transcendental bliss as He fills Your sweet ears with
the ambrosial nectar of His flirtatious joking words.

When will I beam with pride as I shower Your splendidly
rapturous dark and fair forms with fine, multi-colored,
supremely fragrant flower petals as the sakhis begin to sing and
push Your swing? Softly rumbling to congratulate You, the
jubilant cloud friends of Krishna will momentarily sprinkle tiny
rain droplets upon You to bring a cool exhilaration upon Your
ecstatic swing festival! You and Your beloved, looking like
incomparably pleasing lightning within a boundlessly beauteous
monsoon cloud, will swing higher and higher as if to
benevolently befriend the clouds and lightning in the sky!

That delightful day will certainly come when I will
personally witness the overpowering magnitude of Your
matchless, divine generosity toward Your multitude of happy
girlfriends. Blissfully sharing Your loving Shyama with Your
most trusted confidantes, You will gradually make all of them
intimately sit with Him on various forest-flower-decorated love-
swings! All glories to Your ever-expanding transcendental
passion for tenderly reciprocating the love of Your fully
surrendered friends and maidservants!

Vrinda will then come to You and secretly whisper
something into Your ear. As I see a slightly mischievous smile
appear on Your face, a blissful curiosity will flood my heart.

He Radhe! Still dizzy from so much exuberant swinging,
everyone will slowly wander with You along the forest path into
a charming spring-flower-filled meadow. There sweetly singing
birds will be warbling in ragas befitting the festival of spring.
Jubilantly smiling and agitated by rippling waves of prema, the
sakhis will spontaneously compose complimentary Krishna love-
anthems in the vasanta-raga. Vrinda’s vana-devis will then
present before You an amazing array of implements just suitable
to facilitate Your forever famous holi pastimes with Your
beloved Shyama. Before You will lay a large variety of delicate
powder balls of fragrant kunkuma, candana, camphor, saffron,
turmeric, and various flower pollens. There will also be excellent


forest-flower-bedecked bows with quivered flower arrows.
Broadly smiling, we will see exquisitely ornamented jewel
syringes for spraying assorted scented fluids produced from
aguru, musk, candana, mud, and juices pressed from varieties of
highly fragrant flowers. All these substances will excitedly wait
in splendid gold-and-sapphire water pots.

Seeing all this, valorous Shyama will exclaim, “Aho! What
is this? How is it that Madhava, the spring season, directly
follows the monsoon season out of sequence? O Madhavi Radhe!
I think it could only be because Your heart’s passion for
conquering the kingdom of Madhava has emerged as this
delightful springtime meadow replete with this formidable
arsenal of superbly suggestive flower-power weaponry!
Certainly there could be no explanation beyond this! Do all of
Your wanton desires so aggressively appear as incontestable
reality? O proud young lady with roguish eyes! Chivalrous
warriors do not speak much but rather prove their prowess by
courageous deeds! If You think Yourself heroic enough to
withstand the onslaught of My flower bombs upon Your
devastating beauty, then, armed with coquettish glances, stand
and fight!”

Glancing confidently from the corners of Your
unconquerably gorgeous kajjala-lined eyes, You will boldly
counter, “Bho bombastically boastful brahmacari! It appears
that it is You who are doing all the superfluous chatter! We will
see how You maintain Your equilibrium and sense control when
You are totally demoralized and devastated by the indomitable
bodily splendor of My sakhi soldiers and manjari bodyguards!”
At that, we will all quickly change into thin white garments
suitable for the occasion. Then Your holi love-assault will
commence in earnest!

He Radhe! When will I have the blessed opportunity to
supply You with Your desired weaponry as You smilingly pelt
Shyama’s unlimitedly handsome chest with powder balls of
sindura and gulala? The sakhis will all simultaneously
reciprocate Shyama’s continuous streams of colored juices by
blissfully pulverizing Him from all directions with a barrage of
colorful powder balls!


Some very fortunate girls will immerse themselves in the
nectar of transcendental musical accompaniment, exuberantly
singing and playing varieties of stringed vinas such as kacchapi,
vicitra, rudra, svara-mandalika, and tampura. Others will
blissfully play on various kinds of flutes, shenais, and
nagasimhas, creating an inestimable exhilaration. Still others,
with amazing dexterity and potency, will zealously play
different mridangas, pakawajas, damarus, and nagara drums in
many varieties of rhythms, together with various bells, chimes,
gongs, and karatalas, all periodically combining to make an
incredibly tumultuous musical uproar!

As multi-colored powders flying in all directions cloud the
air with a dense, colorific confusion, triumphant Shyama,
revolving with great alacrity like a blazing firebrand, will appear
before each overwhelmed sakhi, besmearing one girl’s face,
another’s breasts, and still another’s beautiful belly! Embracing
one happy girl to His heart, catching another girl’s braids,
holding another’s hands, drinking another’s nectarean kisses,
and pinching yet another’s buttocks while biting her neck – in
this way, Your svayam-rupa Gokulananda Shyamasundara will
blissfully befriend each and every one of us by the influence of
Your ever-resplendent, ever-victorious munificence!

When the colorful clouds of ananda dissipate somewhat,
Vrinda and Her vana-devis will approach to offer varieties of
refreshing nectar drinks. Shyama will then take You by the hand
to a private garden, and the selfless sakhis, intoxicated with the
ecstasies of their own amorous afflictions, will stumble off into
their various individual kunjas.

My dear slender-waisted Radharani! I have heard from the
lips of great saintly persons that Your honey-moon-faced rakish
lover, Shyamasundara, has expanded His innumerable energies
through His various agents to manifest all the spiritual and
material worlds, intelligently accommodating the various desires
and attitudes of unlimited varieties of living entities. Is that
really so very wondrous? All the vibhutis of the entire cosmic
creation are said to have sprung from a mere spark of His
splendor! Am I supposed to be very much impressed? So what if
daily He skillfully killed so many terrible raksasa demons,


liberating them by merging them into His brahman effulgence!
Was His bewildering of Lord Brahma by expanding into
duplicate forms of thousands of cowherd boys and calves truly
a display of His mystic opulence? Was His exhaustive dancing
on the hooded heads of Kaliya-naga really very artistic or
graceful? Perhaps if He at that time would have invited You and
Your friends on board for rasa dancing, I would be somewhat
appeased. I have heard of His having devoured devastating
forest fires in His childhood, but what about the now-raging fires
of our desires to see His sumptuous, supramundane,
confidential prema-keli union with You? Some people might
think His instructing the wives of the yajnika-brahmanas to
return home to their husbands and patiently wait for some
future opportunity a most noble and noteworthy display of
kripa. Is it really so wonderful or important that He defied
unduly puffed-up Indra-deva by easily holding up Govardhana
Hill with just the single pinky of His left hand? Couldn’t He
recognize any worthier mountains (mountain-like breasts) to
uphold in this land of Vraja? I dare say He would not ably do the
needful in this regard without the arduous exploits of all the
fingers on both His hands! He may have been able to somehow
lift a little mushroom like Giri Govardhana, but how, under the
present circumstances, will He be able to lift the weighty vama-
giri mountain of Your contrariness? I have heard that in His
previous life as Raghupati Ramacandra He wrathfully killed
Ravana, supposedly to give protection to Sit Devi. Soon after,
however, He insensitively banished Her to the forest, giving Her
unlimited distress merely for the fame and namesake of His
Raghu dynasty. Were these deeds really so commendable or
considerate? How glorious was His ungrateful arrest of Bali
Maharaja or His confining him to the prison of his palace in the
netherworlds? Bali had given to Him everything in the three
words, including his own person, yet Krishna, as Vamanadeva,
in return, only rewarded him with a mere post-dated position as
an insignificant Indra. By that are we to think Him very high-
minded and magnanimous? How heroic was His deliverance of
the elephant Gajendra from the crocodile-jaws of all-devouring
death? How victorious was He when dismantling the


insignificant wasp Hiranyakashipu or when dealing a death blow
upon the demon Hiranyaksa while delivering Mother Earth from
the depths of the Garbhodaka ocean? Let Him now consider the
crocodile of all-devouring time upon us, as if we have any more
of this fleeting afternoon to waste! Let Him, upon a charming
plush flowerbed within a secluded, ornately gilded kunja
cottage, victoriously dismantle the hair-knot of Your loving
anguish in a raging battle against Your tantalizing feigned
belligerence! Let Him, dealing a death blow to the pride of the
most liberal lovers in the three worlds, most mercifully deliver
You from the fathomless depths of Your vast ocean of deepest,
innermost premika distresses (desires) to please Him in every
way!

He Radhe! Only when I see Him carefully placing the
tender arches of Your delicate lotus feet upon the contours of
His blissfully shining cheeks, kissing them with His quivering
coppery lips as streams of tears glide down from His half-closed
all-alluring lotus eyes, will I consider Him to be even a little
intelligent! He Priyeshvari! Shyama is known as bhusana-
bhusanangam, the ornament of all ornaments. His ornaments are
beautified by dint of their being worn by or associated with
Him, the best of all ornaments. Yet, He alone, with or without
ornaments, is not particularly beautiful. Only when He humbly
begs to become Your faithful purusa-bhusana, to selflessly
ornament (be beautified by) Your matchlessly elegant and
splendorous lovely limbs, will He meritoriously attain the apex
of magnificence! Only when I see Him totally overwhelmed and
defeated by the intensity of Your lavishly luscious loving
ecstasy and unconscious, fainted beneath Your bountiful
bosom, will I consider Him to be at all heroic or skillful! All
glories to Your solitary love play within the bumble-bee-
bedecked, blossoming bowers of Vrindavana! He Svadhina-
bhartrike Radhe! Only when I see Him afterwards, at Your beck
and call, deliriously enraptured and amorously turbulent,
unsuccessfully attempting, with uncontrollably trembling hand,
to repaint the smudged kasturi pictures I previously painted on
Your pleasingly plump and beautiful mind-bewitching breast,
will I consider Him to be at all graceful or artistic! Only when I


see Him, upon Your order begging to become the surrendered
servant of Your unalloyed maidservants, taking the dust of their
feet upon His head, will I know Him to be very opulent and
fortunate! Such are the winsome ways of Your immaculately
selfless, love-fascinations! I will attain the pinnacle of bliss upon
witnessing Your peerless pride and joy as You lay Your own
dearly beloved Shyamasundara to rest by the side of she who is
dearer to You than Your own life’s breath, Your darling, most
treasured, incomparably delicate younger sister, Shrimati
Ananga Manjari. At that time, Rupa Manjari, Rati Manjari, Rasa
Manjari, Mani Manjari, and Guna Manjari along with their
associates will come to her supremely opulent Anangambuja
Padma-mandira, eminently ornamenting the heart of Your love-
saturated lake to lovingly serve her lotus feet. I offer my heart
billions of times over in the dust of her lotus feet! When will I
attain even a dust particle of her eternal loving service? In this
way I will surely become especially dear to You. This is the most
cherished aspiration of my heart! In reality, I have no other.
Understanding this, You will always arrange what is best for me.
That is my firm conviction.

He Praneshvari! After some time, all of the sakhis will then
gradually arrive from their various kunjas, having in their own
ways satisfied the Lord of their honeyed hearts. While either
shyly smiling or overtly scowling, endeavoring to cover the
many symbolic inscriptions of Cupid upon their enchanting
loveliness, they will delight You and beloved Shyama with an
exchange of many joking words indirectly insinuating the depths
of their intimacy with Him! Meanwhile, playfully preoccupied
Shyama will suddenly remember . . . and reaching to check His
cummerbund and looking here and there, He will discover the
absence of His . . . “Whe . . . Where is My . . . When did My . . .
Who . . . Who stole My flute?!”

I will inwardly delight to see His nonplussed astonishment
at that time.

He Radhe! In a demanding mode, Shyama will search here
and there, leaving no gopi unturned until He notices me fearfully
glancing toward You for protection!

“I . . . I . . . I didn’t take it! I swear to God, I didn’t!”


“Well, who took it then?!”

“O Shyamasundara! I’m just an insignificant maidservant
who has no separate interest than the interest of my mistresses!
Why do You think the peerless Housewives of Vraja would want
to steal Your useless, old fault-filled flute anyway? We wouldn’t
condescend to even look askance at Your flute! Even if we were
sneak thieves, as You surmise, do You think there are no better
things to steal in this forest than Your inconsiderate,
degenerate, hypocritical and shameless ol’ flute? O ravager of
innocent women! Rupa Manjari is right! It was most probably
You who purposely stole Your own flute, just to have an excuse
to give us all unlimited trouble! That’s precisely what I think
too!”