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Saturday, January 09, 2016

Raaga Yaman by the Yamuna 

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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

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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!

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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…

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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...

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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!


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