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

“Sure, I believe you! You can say whatever you like, but
don’t think I‘m such a fool that I couldn’t notice Your fascinating
fearful countenance!” Saying this, Shyama, playing the part of a
police inspector, will mercilessly arrest me in His snake-noose-
like arms! As He relentlessly frisks every nook and cranny of my
helpless, horripilating person, I will revel in the enchantment of
Your beaming smile.

At that interval, Lalita will “Crack!” break the flute and
“Splash!” throw it in the kunda, exhorting, “Are Mr. Womanizing
Policeman! There is no use wasting time looking for Your
wanton flute in that way. She who actually inspires all of these
blissful pastimes challenges You to a water war within the
nectar waters of Her limitlessly enchanting lake. If You can
valiantly conquer the irresistible kingdom of Her unfathomable
beauty and skill in conjugal affairs as She sports amidst Her
lotus-like lady friends within the blissful waters of Her lotus-
filled kunda, only then will we consider the purpose of the flute
and all Your gallant aggressions to have been served!”

Hearing these daring words of Shrimati Lalita Devi and
considering them reasonable, beloved Shyama will relinquish
His previous pursuits and nobly accept the challenge. He will
then cheerfully proceed along with You and all the sakhis to the
ornately bejeweled banks of Your incomparable liquid-prema-
filled Radha-kunda.


He Radhe! When will that happy day come when, by some
unimaginable good fortune, I will be so blessed to have even the
slightest opportunity to serve Your splashingly exuberant
Radha-kunda water-warring pastimes? After helping You and
some of Your priya-sakhis prepare for battle, I will blissfully
stand with a few of my friends on the steps of a gorgeously
engraved sapphire bathing ghata. There we will clearly witness
the unsurpassed delight of Your beloved Shyama as He enters
the crystal-clear waters like an unruly elephant encircled by His
elated she-elephant gopi love-mates. The rippling reflections of
the glowing gopis’ goldenness will mingle with the reflected
bluishness of resplendent Shyama, generating within the water’s
waves a mezmerising emerald greenness to immerse the minds
of all the onlooking gopis at the water’s edge.

“Is He a dark rasa-filled rain cloud floating on the rasa-filled
waves of transcendental enchantment within Your blissful rasa-
filled splendorous reservoir of nectarean ever-increasing
happiness amidst the fickle lightning-flash gopi embodiments of
shringara-rasa? Is He a boundlessly beautiful bouquet of
blissfully bluish lotus flowers, brazenly breasting the onslaught
of unabashedly blossoming lotus-like water-warring golden gopi
goddesses? Is He an autumnal moon, descending from the
heavens in the middle of the day to boldly plunder the pride of
the cakravaka-like floating breasts of His enthralled, charmingly
contrary, strenuously resisting, honey-moon-faced delightful
sakhi sweethearts?”

Excitedly musing in this way, I will blissfully behold the
inconceivable, all-attractive playfulness and handsomeness of
beloved Shyama as He expands His beauty in an attempt to
forcibly subjugate the sweetness of His countless sakhi
combatants while simultaneously assailing each one of them
with reciprocal volleys of prema-rasa. Amorous Shyama will
wantonly wrestle them hand to hand, chest to breast, neck to
neck, cheek to cheek, mouth to mouth, tooth to tooth, and
finally, dueling tongue to dueling tongue! In an instant, He will
teasingly steal away their wealth of garments and ornaments,
allowing His honey-thirsty bumble-bee eyes to madly drink the
luscious nectar of each sakhi’s eternally resplendent, blissful


lotus-like delicate limbs as they coyly retreat to hide amid the
multitudes of lilies and lotus flowers.

Lalita Sakhi, noticing the rising waves of secret amative
infatuation splashing the lakeshore of my heart, will near the
water’s edge, and after jokingly showering me with splashes of
premamrita, she will quickly catch the corner of my skirt to
playfully pull me in.

“He Lalite! Do you want to make all of your girlfriends
corrupt like you? Misery loves company!” Frantically laughing
and strenuously struggling to free myself from her forceful grip,
very much afraid of what Shyama might do to me if she actually
succeeded, I will somehow deftly manage to escape. As I hastily
recoil my feet from the peripheral waters of the kunda, laughing
Lalita will heartily splash at me again and again. Ananga Manjari,
knowing my innermost intentions, will lovingly glance upon me
with beaming approval.

He Shyameshvari Radhe! At that time my heart, splashed
by waves of amorous amusement, will marvel, “Have the
glistening gopi goldfishes plunged into a play-pool of ever-
increasingly nectarean shyama-rasa, just to become caught in
the love-net of their own boundless amorous obsessions by the
fishermen of Shyama’s ever-enchanting playful glances? Have
they now become utterly overwhelmed and captivated by
encountering His incessant spirited splashing showers of love-
drenched handsome delightfulness? Has Jayashri, the
glamorously glowing, gorgeously golden goddess of victory, now
intervened to totally overwhelm and incapacitate a mortally
mesmerized Shyama? Has She not victoriously vanquished His
every hope of superceding the indomitable preponderance of
Her ever-resplendent, ravishingly curvaceous, triumphantly
transcendent boundless bodily beauty?”

Preoccupied in this way, I will joyously shower volleys of
fragrant flowers to celebrate the ascendancy of vivaciously
playful You, my supremely victorious, water-warring svamini!
Then, along with Your friends, You will delight in making music
by rhythmically slapping the water with Your reddish lotus-like
hands. Just as lotus-like sadhakas, deeply rooted in the nectar-
pool of hearing, chanting, and remembering the gopi’s pastimes


with Your lover, rise to exuberantly dance, celebrating the
festival of sankirtana with the hope of attaining Your eternal
loving service, the happy lotus flowers emerging from Radha-
kunda’s agitated waves will jubilantly dance to the sway of Your
amorous midday pastimes, swaying to and fro as if agitated by
the intense desire for a felicitous festival in the tender touch of
the lotus petal finger tips of Your Shyamasundara’s lotus-like
conjugally clever hands!

He Praneshvari! When, after witnessing the conclusion of
Your blissful water-play, will I be so privileged to catch hold of
Your delicate lotus-bud hands to carefully help You up onto a
beautifully bejeweled bathing platform near the water’s edge?
Rati Manjari and others will then assist in Your massage and
bath. Meanwhile, I, anticipating the confidential flow of Your
heart, will, upon Your sweet indication, go to help Rupa Manjari
gently anoint and bathe Your all-enchanting lover. Upon quickly
bathing and emerging from the nectar mellow waters of Your
kunda, my blissful shapely juvenescent features will become all
but conspicuous through my dripping thin white bathing-
garment. At that time, the sight of my delicate loveliness will, for
Your absolute delight, make the unrestrained, roving eyes of
Your incomparably handsome Shyama savor an inspiration ten
million times greater than that which He achieves from the
mutual fascination of His pure, supramundane direct anga-sanga
with me! Hiding from His view, I will don fresh, thin dry clothes
handed to me by one of my friends. We will then all enter an
indescribably gorgeous temple of jewels within a grove of kalpa-
vriksa trees. There I will joyfully help You and the sakhis dress
and decorate our beloved Lord Shyama. We will offer varieties
of charming, ornately fashioned flower dresses and ornaments
made from various forest flowers, leaves, twigs, and peacock
feathers. Beholding His charming features, I will blissfully muse,
“How sweet! How cute! How lovable! How irresistible! No
wonder She becomes so incredibly impatient!”

He Radhe! Knowing the flow of my heart, You will
indicatively instruct me with the hints of Your assuring, ruthful
eyes. At that opportune moment, I, with a happy heart, will
shyly present effulgently smiling Shyamasundara with the new


bamboo vamsi flute I secretly made for Him at home the
previous day. With Your beaming consent, He will happily
accept. Then, with His lotus eyes blooming, He will cheerfully
inspect its excellence, sweetly flutter a few notes to be sure,
and carefully tuck it into His flower belt. I will blissfully marvel
at how my most merciful You, along with Shrimati Lalita Devi, so
cleverly orchestrated Your sublime lilas to incorporate the
fulfillment of my own heart’s cherished aspiration.

We will then ornament both You and the sakhis with many
varieties of gorgeous, intricately designed, sweetly scented
flower dresses, anklets, belts, bracelets, necklaces, earrings, and
candrika crowns. Vrinda will then invite everyone to assist in
serving a superbly sumptuous forest picnic that she has just
arranged for Your beloved Shyamasundara, Subala, Ujjvala, and
two or three other of His most intimate priya-narma-sakhas.
Ever-hungry Madhumangala will also miraculously appear on
the scene just in time to fill his bottomless belly. The vana-devis
will then bring forth many varieties of deliciously prepared
fruits, roots, and nuts gathered from the forest, and You and all
Your girlfriends will carry various milk-sweet preparations
brought from home. I will also bring the homemade succulent
gulkanda-laddus and creamy cashew burfi, which I secretly
prepared with the hopes that Shyama may at this time accept
and delight in them. I will be overjoyed to see Him happily relish
all of our offerings. Thereafter, I will please You and the sakhis
by helping to distribute His nectarean prasada. Thus, I will make
You once again savor the sweetness of His adharamrita kisses!
As Shyamasundara and His friends recline on soft, spacious
flower beds, resting and relaxing while chewing sweet tambula,
You will, out of inestimable gratitude and love for Your ever-
surrendered maidservants, benevolently expand the compass of
His compassion by personally sharing the remnants of His
mercy-kisses with each and every one of us!

Dear most merciful Shrimati Radharani! I will ever attach
the desires of my heart, the activities of my perfect spiritual
body, my eternal life, the transcendentally situated soul of my
very being, my everything, and my all and all to the shoreless
nectar-ocean of the pastimes of Your tender lotus feet. By the


unfailing influence of Your special causeless mercy upon me, my
heart will be ever-increasingly overwhelmed with undeniable,
transcendentally passionate loving attraction to the Lord of
Your life. Still, I will never, abandoning the consideration of Your
ultimate satisfaction, independently endeavor to please Your
beloved Shyama, even if He, in a secluded grove,
unceremoniously tries to force Himself upon my frail existence.
Shyama belongs to You, and You, by Your boundless benignity,
belong to me. Therefore, Shyama, bound by Your gracious
desire, automatically belongs to me within the context of my
loving service to the extended mercy feature of Your pleasure
pastimes. Without Your consent, I will not, and therefore
cannot, do anything. Taking absolute refuge at Your lotus feet
and giving up all egocentric motives, I will do anything and
everything for Your pleasure. You will always be my supreme
svamini. My enthusiastic singing of His Holy Names, my earnest
glorification and recollection of His form, qualities, and
pastimes, my sincere friendships with His devotees, my ardent
longing for His occasional encounter, and my acceptance of His
mercy upon Your ever-loyal, incorruptible, unalloyed
maidservant will be done exclusively with the aim of satisfying
You. Instrumentally acting upon Your expressed wishes or,
when required, simply doing the needful upon anticipating the
flow of Your inner feelings, I will delightfully serve to satisfy the
senses of Your laudably libidinous lover! I will do so not so much
to mitigate His distress but to relieve the para-duhkha-duhkhi
heartfelt anguish You feel when apprehending the disconsolate
condition of His ever-insatiable, transcendentally impassioned
heart. He Svamini Radhe! I will thus have no separate interest
apart from Your own. Regardless of whatever deeds I may
apparently enact for the pleasure of Shyama, my bhavollasa-rati
will remain forever intact and immaculate by dint of my heart’s
constant vicarious absorption in the pleasure of my yutheshvari.
Ultimately, whatever actions I may perform in Krishna
consciousness will be eternally governed by the satisfaction of
my guru-rupa-sakhi.

My dearmost beloved Shrimati Radharani! You
undoubtedly relish ten million times the happiness of Your own


intimate meetings with Shyama by sharing Him with Your
confidential companions! Who can fathom the limits of Your
divine inspirations? Moreover, it is a profound truth that Your
infinitely indomitable beloved Shyamasundara derives a special,
ineffable bliss by agreeing to be astonishingly overwhelmed and
conquered by the love of Your infinitesimal, eternally separated
vibhinnamsha protegee. Therefore, from time to time You are
thrilled to facilitate such a variety of happiness in Him. The
individual soul’s endearing preferential prema for Your lotus feet
causes Your kindness upon her to increase to the highest
degree. Actually, it is her deep love for You and Your amplified
ananda expressed as consequent compassion upon her, more
than anything, that profoundly impresses Him and forces Him
into submission. Thus, some of Your sakhi-snehadhika
maidservants, will certainly, under special conditions
prearranged by You, sometimes agree to meet with Your
beloved when wholly convinced of Your absolute delight. In
doing so, they never breach Your confidential trust and are thus
never deprived of their supremely privileged access to Your
most intimate nikunja-sevas. The amplified ananda within Your
heart spontaneously inundates their intensely absorbed tad-
bhavecchatmika consciousness. This makes it possible for them,
in all circumstances, to relish a pleasure ten million times that
which they could ever access by direct sambhogecchamayi
association with the Lord. There is nothing very astonishing
about that, for they are most affectionately, if not ever
exclusively, committed and selflessly surrendered to the
happiness of Your heart.

O Radhike! When oh when, as the pasha-khela dice board
is placed before You, will I happily hear with my own lucky ears
Your sakhis jestingly humiliating playful Shyama by insolently
declaring, “This is not the forest for tending cows, playing
macho muscle-games, and killing raksasa demons! This is a
brain-game to test the sagacity of skillful persons before the
learned assembly!” To my sudden trepidation, the both of You,
dice in hand, will then unexpectedly decide to stake me alone as
the winner’s prize! Shameless Shyama will cunningly vaunt His
farcical triumph, inciting a riotous dispute among the sakhas


and sakhis. Kundalata, siding with Him, will advocate on His
behalf, prattling so many promiscuous presumptions. In an
instant, eminently erudite Nandimukhi, famous as Paurnamasi’s
foremost disciple, will push her way to the forefront. Boldly
asserting Your obvious upper hand, she will dismiss all opposing
arguments with a single retort. She will then promptly pull
jubilantly laughing me by the arms to You. Catching the base of
my braid, my unlimitedly merciful ganeshvari, Shrimati Lalita
Devi, will then force me, whose gladdened heart is already
Yours, to surrender my head at Your lotus feet, like a sold-out
animal.

He Radhe! When, as the wagering of the flute, kisses,
embraces, ornaments, and clothing begins in earnest, will I, with
great apprehension, hear Vrinda’s panicky messenger parrots
suddenly report the nearing of Mother Jatila to the vicinity of
the Surya-mandira? Being so alerted and helping to quickly
change back everyone’s clothes and ornaments, I will hastily
grab the flower basket and go with You and the sakhis to the
temple of the Lord of the day. Shyama will appear so charming,
returning on the scene disguised as a highly intelligent,
supremely sense-controlled, gentle brahmana boy. How
humorous! When Jatila unsuspectingly accepts Him as Your
priest for the now-very-late worship of the Sun God; when she
credulously instructs You to wholeheartedly surrender to His
lotus feet; when Shyama pleasingly bewilders her with His
outrageously illusive astrological declarations, convincing her of
Your “unblemished” fidelity toward Your imbecile eunuch of a
so-called husband; when she unwarily beseeches Him to
become the permanent priest of her household deity; when
greedy, comical Madhumangala rapaciously appropriates the
daksina and sweets upon Shyama’s pompous refusal to accept –
how will I be able to contain my insuppressible laughter?

How will I be able to bear the sudden, overwhelming swell
of veiled agony within the core of Your heart as You reluctantly
traverse the return path to Yavata? “Has the condensed milk of
Her heart’s jubilation, sweetened by the ever-enchanting sight
of His ever-increasing handsomeness, now curdled at the
prospects of virulent viraha?” Thus deliberating, I will reel with


despair. As we enter the citadel of Your in-laws’ home, Your
intensely distressful feelings of separation will reach insuperable
proportions. How will mere camphor, sandalwood paste, wet
lotus stems, and conciliatory chicanery suffice to alleviate the
conflagration consuming Your heart at that time? Only when
You carefully make manohara laddus, amrita keli, karpura keli,
ananga gutika, and other nectarean sweets for Shyama’s supper
will You become even a little cooled and pacified. Then, as we
return to Your private chamber, You, engladdened and sweetly
smiling, will mercifully sit me down on an exquisite couch and,
reclining to rest for a little while with Your head upon my lap,
softly intimate to me the longings of Your Shyama-infatuated
heart as other maidservants fan You and gently massage Your
delicate limbs.

He Radhe! After we have bathed, dressed, and decorated
You nicely for the evening festivities, You will desperately
beseech me to mercifully show You the Lord of Your life. When I
cheerfully pull You to the top of the candra-shalika, You,
anticipating the quickly approaching evening sky, will see the
clouds of dust upraised by the hooves of the cows. I will then
enthusiastically take You, on some pretext, to a thicket by the
side of the path. There You will have the opportunity to
exchange in an unseen way profoundly ecstatic, meaningful
glances with Your beloved. Shyama, swaggering like an
inebrious elephant, will intoxicate the whole of Vraja as He
returns rollicking home from the pastures with His uncountable
jovial cowherd boyfriends and cows.

“Is He a lordly elephant parading into Vraja with a host of
rapt attendants? I hardly think so, because when have we ever
seen an elephant herding a myriad of cows? Is He a tamala tree
moving on a pathway between the Ganga and Yamuna? No! It
could not be, because tamala trees don’t play sweet, mind-
alluring songs on the flute, and the rivers Ganga and Yamuna
don’t moo like cows and buffaloes! Is He a walking, talking,
playful sapphire deity of divine love benedictions? Maybe, but
why has this one lost His equilibrium upon glimpsing the
sparkling rays of the toenails of Your lotus feet? He Krishangi
Radhe! Just once more, see His charm! His peacock-feathered,


forest-flower crown; His vraja-dhuli-dusted, sweetly curling
locks of hair; His fascinating, sweetly smiling, unlimitedly
kissable honey-moon face with gracefully dancing, elongated
lotus-petal eyes; His ever-victorious, flirtatiously frolicking
cupid’s-bow eyebrows; His shark-shaped earrings sweetly
swinging alongside His gorgeous glistening cheeks which are
splendidly adorned with candana and mineral pigments from the
slopes of Govardhana Hill – O Radhe, just see! His handsome
lion’s neck and beautiful broad shoulders tastefully draped with
a flowing reddish-gold silk-chiffon cadar and a rope for tying
cows; His charming flower-bracelet-bedecked, snake-like
reassuring arms with teasingly tender lotus-like hands pressing
His new vamsi flute to His bimba-fruit lips; His magnificent
Kaustubha-mani adorned chest, a desperate, slender-waisted
gopi’s only wish-fulfilling asylum – just see! His lion-waisted
torso covered with elegant garlands of gunja and tulasi and a
swaying vaijayanti garland reaching down to His knees; His
whirlpool nectar navel drowning the helplessly enraptured
hearts of whoever ventures to view; His generous, handsome
hips wrapped with a crimson brocade sash; His powerful thighs
covered with a glistening golden-yellow dhoti hiked-up above
His auspiciously visible shanks – just see! Just see and hear His
blissfully jingling ankle bells complementing His limitlessly
delicate, soft, and gentle lotus feet now traversing the pathway
to Vraja! Are the concave arches of those two lovely lotus feet
not fittingly contoured to perfectly complement the rotundity of
Your two big and beautiful breasts?” Hearing these cheerfully
expressed amorous infatuations of mine, intended solely to
inspirit Your love-thirsty heart, You will sweetly smile upon
Your happy handmaid, all the while eagerly drinking in the
ambrosial sweetness of Your homecoming Shyama from the
moistened corners of Your overjoyed eyes.

He Shyama-priye Radhe! Upon returning You to Your
quarters, I will, on Your tenderhearted command, gather all the
various previously prepared sweets and go along with two or
three of my closest friends to Nandalaya. There Mother Yashoda
will be overflowing with maternal affection as she sees her
adolescent Shyamasundara returning the cows to the goshala.


With a little persuasion, Shyama will enter His father’s palace for
refreshments, with Batu and Balarama. At that time I will
happily deliver the sweets to Vrajeshvari and humbly bow
before her.

When will that blessed day come when I will be fortunate
enough to be mercifully engaged by Yashoda Mata to help
bathe, dress, and ornament Your beloved Shyama in the
company of her house maidens as she and Mother Rohini return
to the kitchen to continue cooking the evening meal? When I
massage His limbs with pure nicely scented oil, He, unseen by
others, will tug on my veil. In response, I will silently protest by
sternly knitting my creeper-like eyebrows. We will then perform
His abhiseka by pouring pleasantly scented Yamuna water from
exquisite jeweled pots. When I dry Him off with a soft silken
towel, He will secretly pinch my trembling left arm. I will silently
ignore Him, as if I didn’t notice.

Radhe! Is the freshly donned, gleaming golden dhoti
embracing His handsome hips now audaciously posing as a rival
of You who yearn to lovingly envelop their pride in the fury of
Cupid’s erotic embrace? I think Your all-attractive nagara will
surely abandon that rival of meager sway in the progress of
Your culminating intimacy.

As I fasten His ankle bells, He will mischievously tease me
by tugging again and again on my plaited hair. At that time, I,
steeped in the remembrance of Your painful separation, will
take the opportunity to secretly kiss His lotus feet. He Radhike!
When ostensibly dissatisfied Shyama repeatedly removes my
artistically painted gopi-dots from around His ever-enchanting
lotus-petal eyes, I, flustered, my bodily hairs standing on end,
will many times softly appeal to You in restless apprehension.

Just as I finish my perfect final touches, suddenly, to my
sheer astonishment, roguishly playful Shyama, with His two
wayward lotus hands, will shamelessly seize my two firm,
freshly blooming breasts! I will skillfully retreat while
vociferously rebuking Him, exclaiming, “Are! What are You
doing, Shyama? You know I’m just an insignificant maidservant.
I belong to that girl for whom Your avariciousness is actually
meant! Without Her permission, You are not allowed to even so


much as lay a hand on any of us, so why do You bother Yourself
so?”

Beaming broadly, jestfully winking at my shyly smiling
friends, and looking just like sweetness personified, cunning
Shyama will rejoin, “Hey kinkari! I was just demonstrating to you
what I’m going to do to your svamini when we rendezvous this
evening. Why are you so upset? I’m not lying. When you return
to Her lotus feet, just tell Her everything that has happened.”

Just then, as we, like dry scattered leaves blown by a
whirlwind, quickly retire from sight, cheerful Nanda Maharaja
and Balarama will arrive, taking Shyamasundara to the dining
hall for dinner. When will I be blessed with the occasion to
blissfully behold the sweet manner with which beloved Shyama
heartily accepts His evening meal? Sumptuously feasting upon
and praising the many varieties of tasty delicacies offered to
Him at the insistance of Father Nanda, Balarama, Mother
Yashoda, Rohini, and other superiors, Shyama will happily relish
the four types of foodstuffs with great gusto.

Finally, the greatly fortunate Yashoda-mayi will offer all
varieties of sweet preparations saying, “O Lala, happily eat all
these delicious sweets prepared by the peerless hands of the
daughter of Maharaja Vrisabhanu and You will live a long,
healthy, and happy life!”

He Radhe! As charming, quintessentially delicious Shyama
begins to taste one of Your succulently delicious manohara
laddus, He will become suddenly overwhelmed by the
indescribably delicious thoughts of Your incomparably delicious
form, qualities, and nikunja-lilas. When I see His unexpected loss
of appetite perturbing the mind of His mother; when I notice His
love-stricken listlessness, His pretentious muffled belch overtly
indicating the conclusion of His meal, and His persistent
parents’ total inability to persuade Him to eat even a morsel
more; and when I see His affectedly cheerful request to retire to
His shayana-mandira with a few of His intimate friends, I, slightly
smiling, will understand everything!

Unseen by others, I will go to learn from Him the venue of
our evening tryst. When will that auspicious moment come
when I will find Him lying on His spacious bed, His lotus eyes


brimming with suppressed tears of fathomless, overwhelming
love for You? Seeing His condition, I too will be submerged in a
welling stream of love-filled tearfulness as I recall the untold
afflictions of Your inconsolably lovelorn heart!

He Radhe! Receiving the remnants of His repast from the
hands of thoughtful Dhanistha, I will then return to make You
happy by joyfully recounting every detail of what happened at
the house of Nanda. I will inform You about Shyama’s proposed
tryst; feed You His remnants, His ambrosial adharamrita kisses;
excitedly help to ready You for Your abhisara; and blissfully
take You into the night, down a secret forest path to meet the
Lord of Your life!

He Shyama! The enchanting Shyama kasturi musk
anointing Your unlimitedly beautiful body will stealthily rob
Your in-laws of the power to persist with their moral
wakefulness! Your stifled anklets will render their notice of Your
stealthy departure conspicuous by its sonorous slumber! Your
dark bluish-black Shyama-colored dress; Your deep-Shyama-
blue sapphire ornaments; Your beautiful Shyama-bluish-black
braided hair; the dense, dark, nocturnal Shyama-expectant
forest of Shyama-bestowing kalpa-vriksa trees; the Shyama-dark
current of the Yamuna flowing along the side of Govinda Sthala;
and the Shyama-ness of the moonless amavasya night will all
envelop You, every step of the way, at every turn, in
inestimably profound, ecstatically exhilarating Shyama-
exuberant love fascinations! All glories to Your rapturous, madly
Shyama-anxious evening abhisara! I, assiduously anticipating
Your course, will find myself running ahead to carefully brush
aside the ominously obstructive brambles and branches along
the forest pathway to the sanketa-kunja palace.

O Radhe! When will I, overwhelmed with insuperable
distress upon seeing Your incessant torrents of tears, overhear
the sharp rebukes of Lalita Sakhi: “Utkanthita Sakhi Radhe! It
has been hours since our coming to this hard-hearted forest
grove and You still think it wise to wait for Him? You might as
well be happy with Your own disappointment! I’ve told You time
and again not to make any more friendships with that bogus
blackish boy, but You just don’t listen! That nonsense, morally


debased, deceitful, debauched cheater-number-one is black not
only outside – He’s black through and through! No doubt He will
show up at the end of this unbearable night, sporting kajjala
upon His coppery lips, kiss marks on His cheeks and arms, and
a host of candravali crescent-moon fingernail marks on His
chest, along with smudges of kunkuma, won while gallantly
pressing the breast of the girl who is Your constant competitor!
You should angrily take no notice of Him; turn Your face away!
Don’t be so gullible as to believe any of His lamebrain excuses!
And, if You actually want Your ultimate good, don’t, even for a
moment, abandon the dignity of Your disdainful demeanor!”

Hearing these discouraging words from Your dearest sakhi
and feeling inconsolably dejected and let down at heart, You will
indignantly order me to promptly remove anything and
everything that in any way reminds You of unreliable Shyama!
Your Shyama-blue sapphire ornaments – discarded; Your
Shyama-bluish-black clothes – cast aside; Your enchanting
Shyama-kasturi musk body-unguent – disdainfully wiped
away; Your beautiful Shyama-bluish-black hair – bound up and
imprisoned in an anguish-knot behind Your head; the lovely
Shyama-blue lotuses pushed over Your ears – flung afar wilted –
distraught and disappointed! The Shyama-bluish-sapphire-
studded drinking goblets, pan boxes, and spittoons – good
riddance! Has the removal of the elegantly embroidered
Shyama-dark draperies not revealed the absolute Shyamishness
of the darksome night through the window lattice of the kunja
palace? Shall we now throw away the earlier-thought-to-be-
favorable dark’s duration? Unable to discard the diminutive
remainder of the already irretrievable night and helplessly
engulfed in Your inability to forget inconstant Shyama even for a
moment, You will futilely attempt to escape by retreating
behind the closed windows of Your Shyama-darkened eyes!
Seeing nothing but Shyama within and without, exasperated to
the point of total devastation, and collapsing, fainted upon Your
now withering bed of stemless flowers, Your every attempt will
be baffled as You become overwhelmingly sunken in an ocean
of Shyama-blackish oblivion!