Saturday, January 09, 2016
Raaga Yaman by the Yamuna
h ♪ h ♫ h ♪ h
My love
pours out from my raging heart unto these stained pages, whence the dark ink
seeps out into an indigo-dyed Yamuna. My ink stains, serpent-like, are lured by
His flute, playing to the strains of the Asavari
ragini …
h ♪ h ♫ h ♪ h
The stormy Yamuna
that Vasudeva had crossed with the Blue Lord in his arms, beneath the thousand
watching eyes of the many-headed Vasuki, is watched by a thousand eyes still.
As I bathe in
bliss and amorous dalliance at the river, a thousand eyes—of companions and
elders alike—follow each move. Each sidelong glance, each half-hidden smile,
each hesitant step… Till I throw caution to the winds and embrace you by the
flowing river. By the river that mimics the waves half-concealed in my breast,
for all to see. For all to drag my name through its muddy banks. As disheveled
is my reputation, as my mud-spattered sari-end from our last tryst by the
Kalindi O Krishna!
h ♪ h ♫ h ♪ h
You who took my
life, how can you be so cruel to your beloved Rai, incessantly playing at your wanton
flute? Why does your Bihaag summon me
to your side at all odd hours? O Banamaali, why do you shame me so before my
household, my elders and my companions? Have you no heart? No thought for your
Radha?
How do I steal
away from the thousand eyes that follow each step? My elders will not let me
step away from their sight. My companions wait in attendance all at once, and
will not even let me bind my hair in peace! Stop, stop your cruel Malhaar O Kanha! Cease tormenting your
helpless Radhika…
I draw my veil to
hide my shame—my longing. My twin eyes brim over, my ripe breasts heave in
distress, my heart flutters in fear and ecstasy—from whom do I hide my overflowing
desire O Murari? For your Radha is artless in the ways of love…and you a
passionate, impatient lover.
A thousand
watching eyes upon me, I struggle to prepare for our tryst by the riverside. My
midnight black tresses I tie into submission, wreathing a fragrant strand of
jasmine into a serpent braid. Will it madden you Kanu, to watch it sway to the
intoxicating elephant-gait of your Gajagamini?
I dust myself with sandalwood, draw on dark kohl to line my lotus eyes, dangle
earrings to set off my slender neck, a necklace of pearls to be played with at
my honey-apple breasts, and a blue muslin to hold my form within its folds. My
bodice loosely tied, half-revealing and half-hidden from my lover’s restless
eyes; and with my sari knotted above my flaring hips, I make to steal out under
cover of a velvety night.
But wait, my
anklets give the game away, and my bangles join in too! Someone stirs in
sleep—are they all awakened? I stand transfixed, forgetting to breath—nostrils
flared, eyes wide open. A lifetime passes by, in truth but a few minutes. The
accursed jewels are flung aside, and mogra
garlands donned instead. Around the feet, hands and arms, one hung from neck to
navel, and yet another coiled around a slender waist.
And then you blow
ever so gently into your flute again. Your Radhika’s heart flutters in confused
anticipation. Setting my mirror aside, I set out in haste…
h ♪ h ♫ h ♪ h
The fecund jasmine string and the mogra too
Strewn asunder as the cruel strains flew
Oh Azure Lord who plays the flute so
Brewing within dusky Yamuna a storm anew
Causing dark clouds to burst into rain
Smudging my kohl eyes, drenching me with pain...
h ♪ h ♫ h ♪ h
By the Yamuna you
sit and play, leaning against a banyan trunk—camouflaged by a curtain of
overhanging roots and low hanging branches. To the Yamuna I must reach, away
from all prying eyes; obscured from the world as the waxing moon is shielded by
the cover of rain clouds.
To the Yamuna I
must reach, even as thorns graze my tender lily feet, catching at my flowing blue
veil. Even though the forest floor is overcast with the dark shadows of the taal and the tamaala trees, mimicking the darkened sky overcast with monsoon
clouds above. To the Yamuna I much reach, to collapse in exhaustion upon my
waiting Kanha’s bosom.
“What took you so
long?” you ask, clasping me tight in your embrace, devouring my soft lips in a
honeyed kiss. The dark-stained moon sets the unblemished lotus on its lap; and
I bend backwards like a lithe snake, as you lower your head to slake a burning
thirst…
When did the waist
knot come undone? Where does the jasmine strand lie crushed? How did the kohl
smudge my eyes, tight shut? Why did my pinioned arms come down to draw you ever
close?
Grant me an ecstatic release my Lord. Make me space by your Divine side,
within your expansive heart. You who have taken away my life, accept my soul
too O Madhava!
h ♪ h ♫ h ♪ h
