Śrī-Śrī-Gaura-Govinda-Līlāmṛta Guṭikā 16

Overwhelmed by love, Śrīmatī had forgotten all of last night’s pastimes. She said, “Śyāmalā, my friend! I was thinking about you and just at that moment you arrived. O sakhī! If the tree of my desires bears fruit in such a way, then I shall consider this a fine morning. O beautiful Śyāmā! My desire tree grows continuously and my sakhīs water it constantly. Why does it still not bear fruit? Alas, I don’t know when in great joy I shall see the fruits of that tree.” After hearing Śrīmatī’s words, Śyāmalā said in jest, “Rādhā, my friend! If your desire tree has not yet borne fruit, I’m sure it will soon. But, O weary one, this tree’s fruit seems strange because although it is always enjoyable, it causes itself to be perceived as imperceptible. It is amazing that the fruit by whose crimson juice your eyelashes have been reddened is not within the range of your eyes. O lotus face! It is even more amazing that you have not tasted this fruit, though you have a sore on your lip from eating it so many times.” Hearing this, Śrīmatī replied, “Śyāmā, my friend! You are joking with me without understanding my heartache. The momentary flash caused by lightning on a cloudy night seems to double the darkness of the eyes. In the same way, Śrī Kṛṣṇa gives darśana for only half a moment in life and burns our hearts doubly in the fire of separation when we cannot see him.” Understanding the advanced state of Śrīmatī’s powerful, thirsty love, Śyāmalā said, “O friend! Just as a virtuous person never performs any rite without first taking a morning bath, in the same way, I cannot engage in any work without first bathing in the nectarous Gaṅgā of your nightly pastimes, which flows from your lotus-like mouth. Therefore, O Rādhā, stop hiding your feelings and give us a little taste of your sweet nocturnal play.” Hearing this, Śrīmatī replied, “O Śyāmalā! When I was in the bower cottage in the dead of night, I was bathed in a stream of blue radiance from a bolt of blue lightning. Then it seemed like someone led me to a theater for drama and dance filled with countless gods of love who covered me from head to toe! I became anxious and perplexed. O friend! I was so overwhelmed watching the refined dancing skills of those gods of love that I surrendered all of my sense-coins to the dancers’ hands. O Śyāmā! Try as I might, I cannot remember what wonderful dancing occurred after that.” Śyāmalā replied, “Rādhā! An amazing story, no doubt! You saw the king of dancers, whose dancing amazes countless gods of love and who is an unfathomable ocean of amorous pastimes, dancing in Kandarpa’s war only in a refined and polite way. Did you make this up?” Śrīmatī replied, “Śyāmalā, just forget what we both said; neither of us knows. Moreover, there are countless feelings in my heart that I cannot express. Tell me, friend, was that magic, or a dream, or only a delusion of my mind? I cannot understand any of it. A sleeping person afflicted with thirst may drink a cool beverage in his dream but remains thirsty. In the same way, without feeling the satisfaction of my nighttime pastimes with Kṛṣṇa, it all seems fanciful like a dream.” Śyāmalā laughed and jokingly said, “Rādhā, my friend! This is not a dream or magic; the truth is, you are just confused. The sweet fragrance of Kṛṣṇa’s lip-nectar has blinded the virtuous girls from afar. After drinking too much of it, you have become delusional.”

The minnow-like minds of the sakhīs and mañjarīs swam happily in the countless fountains of Premamayī Śrī Rādhā’s recollections with Śyāmalā. Meanwhile, Śrīmatī’s dear friend Madhurikā arrived there. Knowing that Madhurikā had just come from Nandālaya, the sakhīs inquired about any news from there. Madhurikā began to recount Śrī Kṛṣṇa’s waking and other morning pastimes. “O Rādhā! At Nandālaya this morning, Mother Yaśomatī knew that Kṛṣṇa was still sound asleep, exhausted from grazing the cows. Fearful of waking him, she anxiously ordered her maidservants to not make any loud sounds while churning butter. Meanwhile, Paurṇamāsī Devī arrived at Nandālaya, eager to see Śrī Kṛṣṇa. She perceived Nanda’s pleasant home to be like Śvetadvīpa. She felt great joy when she saw Nanda’s home with Acyuta sleeping on Ananta, his comfortable bed, soft like the foam on milk. Its delightful courtyard, filled with gentle, loving people, is decorated with multicolored ocean gems and drops of milk from the churning. Seeing Paurṇamāsī Devī as the goddess of asceticism incarnate, Mother Yaśodā happily stood up and said, “O Bhagavatī! Come in, come in! How fortunate that I get to see you early in the morning. O one adored in Vraja! I bow to your lotus feet.” While Śrī Yaśodā was bowing, Bhagavatī embraced and blessed her. Then she inquired about Yaśodā’s welfare, along with that of her husband, son and cows. Śrī Yaśodā replied that all were well and then she eagerly accompanied Paurṇamāsī Devī to Kṛṣṇa’s bedroom. Meanwhile, Bhadrasena, Stokakṛṣṇa, Gobhaṭṭa, Subala, Arjuna, Śrīdāma, Sudāma, Dāma, Ujjvala, Kiṅkiṇī and Kṛṣṇa’s other friends arrived with Baladeva and began to call out to him: “Hey Kṛṣṇa! Get up, get up! Wake up quickly; morning has come. Your brother Balarāma is waiting for you in the courtyard.” Madhumaṅgala was awakened by the sakhās’ shouting. Baṭu(1) giggled and called out in a loud voice, “Hey Kṛṣṇa, get up! Let’s go quickly to the cowshed.” Even though Kṛṣṇa was awakened by Baṭu’s words, his eyes were swirling and he could not leave his bed. At the end of the universal dissolution, Veda Mātā wakens Śrī Bhagavān from his mystic slumber as he lies on Ananta-Śeṣa in a jeweled temple in the ocean of milk. In the same way, Vrajeśvarī Mātā began to wake Śrī Kṛṣṇa. She placed her left hand on the bedstead to bear her body weight and then caressed Kṛṣṇa with her right. She said, “My son, get up, get up! Let your mother feel the joy of seeing her son’s face. Without seeing you, the cows do not suckle their young. Nonetheless, concerned about waking you, your father has gone to the cowshed himself. Your friends have all arrived now, so go with them to the cowshed and milk the cows. Wait, what is this? Why is Balarāma’s blue cloth on your body?” Mother Yaśodā then gave the blue cloth to Dhaniṣṭhā, but when she saw the fingernail scratches on Kṛṣṇa’s body from his nocturnal pastimes, she said, “Look, Bhagavatī! This boy’s delicate body, softer than a lotus petal, has somehow been injured while wrestling with his rambunctious friends. So much red mineral powder has stuck to his limbs! Alas! I don’t know how to prevent this.” As Mother Yaśodā spoke with such affection, she showered the bed with drops of breastmilk and tears. Seeing that Kṛṣṇa’s eyes had narrowed with embarrassment at his mother’s tender words, Madhumaṅgala said, “O mother! Even if, as you say, the boys(2) are rambunctious, that doesn’t mean they should be prohibited. That’s just the way energetic friends play.”

-------------

1. Baṭu is a nickname for Madhumaṅgala.

2. Baṭu uses the word bālālīkula here, which indicates the group of bālas or boys, but also refers in a hidden way to the bālās or girls of Vraja.