Gopalacampu 1.28

Now the thirtieth chapter:

The Uninhibited Play of Holī

[1] Then Madhukaṇṭha sequentially began the morning narration:

That journey to the Ambikā forest became a cause for enriching Hari's playful deeds; / moreover, the festive course of Holī's joy arrived again in Vraja.

[2] And in that festival, the entire folk, men and women, singing, dancing, fighting, and playing just like an intoxicated host—such custom prevails from the central region on account of the authority of the Bhaviṣyottara Purāṇa, because of the venerability of the Purāṇas.

[3] Then, on the night of the full moon of Phālguna of complete virtue, while Kṛṣṇa and Rāma, thirsty with curiosity, were sporting on the ground belonging to the house of Horikā, which is another name for Ḍhuṇḍhā, someone suddenly arrived from the north. Although acceptable to the lord of the Guhyakas, yet because of the reprehensibility of the Guhyaka, he was a wisher of Kaṃsa's welfare; casting an evil glance toward the young women of Vraja who were sporting there, he thought of abducting them.

[4] Even while thinking thus, he suddenly entered there; obsessed with evil intent, he swiftly chased and drove that troop of women away from that spot.

[5] Then that elder brother of Gada [Kṛṣṇa], along with his elder brother [Rāma], perceiving his boorish nature, and thinking earlier that he was a rogue possessing a special costume of a jester enjoying that festival, remained as if checked. And then:

The gopīs' movements and gestures toward Hari were obstructed by Śaṅkhacūḍa, / as were their glances and their cries of “Kṛṣṇa! Rāma!” straightway, / because he, pursuing them at every step / with peerless speed, a hostile form, and excessive shouts, brought about a suspension of their functions.

[6] Then, the words of Śrī Kṛṣṇa there:

“Though having faith [in us], they have turned away from his terrible, excessive speed; / shame, their eyes shattered by terror, they cannot even see us two! / Though screaming, their voices are smothered by this one who mimics their cries; / O brother, should we two still not run to protect them? Alas!”

[7] Thus resolving, and searching to stop him because of his terrifying undertakings, the two suddenly snapped two śāla trees with their might, crushed their branches and foliage, and with that pair held aloft in their very firm hands, ran after him with great force. Thereupon, due to their running, others also ran. And then:

Thus the people could not fathom concerning those two with śāla trees in their hands: / did the two śāla trees become light, or did their two bodies become heavy?

And then—
Placing the fair son of Rohiṇī in front,
Śrī Govinda [pursued] the fleeing Śaṅkhacūḍa,
making his mass of fame manifest, as it were;
he usually puts him in the forefront. ||

Beholding Hari, accompanied by Bala, of supreme prowess and orderly assault,
the Guhyaka quickly abandoned the women and fled.
Indeed, he considered Bala as Time and Hari as Death;
that was suitable for that beast, for he met the fate dealt by each. ||

And when the multitude of weak women had been released by him, he named Bala remained there to gather them together.

Then his younger brother, glorious as a lion to the elephants of Danu's sons, striding forward with prowess, laughed aloud, and noticing that he, bearing a northern name, had fled toward the south, discarded the staff of a tree from his hand with disdain toward him who was running far away.

Running and regaining his proximity, he whose mind was clever at playing, chased him here and there and enveloped him by his movements. And like Nṛsiṃha seizing his enemy Hiraṇyakaśipu, he grasped him with restraint.

Then, seizing him so as to block his hands, the broad-chested one, eager to immediately seize the jewel, struck a blow upon his head with his lotus hand—the essence of whose grip rivaled the bone of sage Dadhīci solidified in firmness—and, as if it were unexcelled to take the limb of a dead body at a later time, knocked down his crest-jewel.

That malicious sorcerer, an aggressor, abandoned his very life along with the jewel; for the journey of his life had indeed been based solely on that wealth. And then—

Taking from the Yakṣa that object of mere effulgence,
incapable of being distinguished as a soul or a gem,
the enemy of Kaṃsa, as the women watched,
brought it, in according with his desire, into union with Rāma. ||

And seeing him fallen, with his mouth wide open, stricken down, his jewel lost, and dead, the gods, understanding the intention of Śrī Kṛṣṇa, mocked him thus:

“You plundered a great jewel of a woman belonging to another,
and you have also caused your own crest-jewel to be lost;
alas, you have even relinquished your own life! Fie upon you,
O Yakṣa, why do you open your mouth wide here?” ||

Thus, having relished with the tongue of his ears this secret conduct and having laughed, Snigdhakaṇṭha, his throat choked with tears, spoke again:

“That tormenting, that chasing, and likewise that
playing with and killing of his own enemy,
and the splendor of the hand holding the jewel reddened by his blood—
his effulgence shines within me at this very moment!” ||

Again Madhukaṇṭha said: "Thus, when Śaṅkhacūḍa's crest was crushed, when he was pounded and played with, and when the shamed one was finished off, all the leaders headed by the king of Vraja's land—their agitated nature now stilled after that succession of uproars—arrived, and marvelling at the destruction of such an evil one, untouched again by doubt or fear, yielding a manifest abundance of joy, manifested the festival sport as if devoid of shame.

And having manifested it, they gave many most noble gifts to the brāhmaṇas who resolve doubts in the scriptures, and to the Sūtas, Māgadhas, and bards who cause delight to all. To those [women] they sent excellent garments and other articles; and feeling at ease, placing Kṛṣṇa and Kṛṣṇa’s elder brother in front, they returned to their own Vraja."

“O leader of the cowherd settlement, your son of wondrous sports is such a one
who offered the Yakṣa-ram as a sacrifice into the fire of anger before Ḍhuṇḍhā! ||

Now, in this narration of the night, Madhukaṇṭha especially dwelt upon that story of the Horikā festival.

When the auspicious night had passed,
the Phālguna full moon arrived, bringing a delightful festival.
Just as the beauty of these two fortnights is,
so too is the beauty of these two festivals. ||

When winter had departed, the moon shone brightly
in its own unsubstantial splendor, and the Phalguna festival arrived;
how indeed would the cowherd women there not have
their concealment cast aside out of excessive passion? ||

Then, seeing the night mingled with the clusters of rays forming the beauty of the surrounding ramparts, which assisted the white fortnight, and which supported the expansion of their desires, all the women, proud of the ancient customs of that festival, joyfully stepped outside, as follows:

Constantly disregarding respectability on all sides,
putting on divine attire out of intoxication born of love,
even before the crowds during Horikā,
aha! the women of Vraja rushed to Hari! ||

Thus, along with hosts of lotus-like female friends from house to house, wearing bodices and garments fashioned to serve as armor for the troop-leaders, bearing weapons such as syringes discharging fragrant reddish liquids, with wondrous curiosities consisting of numerous horns and other musical instruments, with clamorous songs filled with playful scolding abuses, in accordance with the universal custom of that festival, and fully prepared without shame, they assembled at the extensive courtyard play-and-battle arena in front of the Horikā temple situated before the gates of the town of Vraja.

These women, having divided themselves according to their individual attachments to Bala and Bala's younger brother, stood with their gaze fixed upon each of them.

Perceiving the tumultuous sound uttered by them, which revealed their heightened prowess, and having the thought, 'They are to be conquered,' Bala and Bala's younger brother, forming an army of friends to aid in their objective, and similarly prepared, playfully bounded forward and went right there.

Having arrived, deafening the cowherd station with the blare of flawless musical instruments, they slighted the opposing army; whereupon the women, their pride inflamed and acting as a hostile army, approached facing them accompanied by music, and completely colored all of them on every side.

[23] Where, in those two contending armies swelling in rivalry, Mādhava acted as king on one side and Rādhā on the other. And on account of this, great astonishment arose among the people. As follows—

Just as Śrī Hari had a dazzling white whisk, jewel-umbrella, and other royal insignia, / so too did those [maidens] then display them for Śrī Rādhikā. / Moreover, neither of the two could even endure the glances from the corners of each other's eyes; / thus none could guess where victory would lie and where defeat would be.

[24] In this way, regarding their mutual eagerness and impatience, bringing about fitting harmony between the two armies who had accomplished their ends, who engaged in playful mock-battle to captivate minds, and who were honored by all—a certain middle-aged woman, rich in love for them, delighting the party to be visited with playful pleasantries since she was the wife of the younger brother of the father-in-law of the king of Vraja's peer the priest, assumed the role of an intermediary. Moving boldly like a gust of wind, she approached Śrīman Mādhava, the ruler of the earth, belonging to the opposing camp, from the midst of Rādhā's group. Having approached, with smiles widening on both sides as greetings and pleasantries were exchanged, she spoke while all of them listened:

[25] 'I am truly discerning and wise, and I have attained authority in the embassy of Śrī Rādhā, who is worshiped by hosts of great sovereigns. Therefore, listen to this—'

[26] The moment she said this, Madhumaṅgala laughed and said: 'What was that you said about listening?'
[27] Hearing this, as everyone burst into laughter, she said: 'This courtier of yours must be deaf!'

[28] Madhumaṅgala said: 'This unrestrained behavior of yours is quite fitting! For since you are in the power of that ruler of the earth, under whose power else could you be?'
[29] But Śrī Kṛṣṇa gravely said: 'Please deliver your message fully.'

[30] The female messenger, having half-said, 'By her, the protector of proper conduct, this extraordinary command was issued,' uttered 'Viṣṇu! Viṣṇu!' and corrected herself: 'This has been commanded by her excellent female ministers who surpass Śacī: "To disregard our queen, whose renown is spread everywhere, and to bear parasols and other insignia at a distance, to say nothing of in front of her, is an extraordinary insolence on your part."'

[31] Then Kṛṣṇa, laughing along with the assembly, said: 'Truly, upon her command, we shall abandon that insistence. But it must simply be said that a kingdom without battle is something unknown to the Vedas; therefore, you should be prepared for battle.'

[32] At this point, Madhumaṅgala stepped forward and said: 'My Lord, just listen to this! One who is by nature a woman is no warrior. In that garden of contrariness, which has become a dwelling for charming women in name alone, nothing is accomplished through straightforward conduct. Therefore, abandoning straightforwardness, we, who are full of vigor, should be stationed and dispatched as messengers. And among us, I alone should be sent, for I am an expert.'

[33] The messenger laughed and said: 'O flatterer, if you are an expert, then who is a fool?'

[34] Madhumaṅgala said sarcastically: 'O chatterbox, I consider you to be the drop of wisdom in that assembly. Even so, before me, whose body is the three Vedas, even your presence cannot maintain stability.'

[35] The messenger contemptuously replied: 'Before me, who am learned, how much can you, a mere novice, speak? Therefore, just understand what is caught in your own garment!'

[36] Angrily looking at Śrī Kṛṣṇa, Madhumaṅgala said: 'Surely this woman, who deserves to be censured by others, is not fit to be addressed by us! But let her be detained here while I, the foremost of the wise, ascertain their situation and return to surround you.'

[37] The messenger laughed and said: 'Truly, this messenger of yours has become bewildered at the very outset, since he wishes to go there only while keeping me detained here! Therefore, he will certainly bring only disgrace upon you, as he is not fearless like me. And that is quite fitting for both of us, for the qualities of the master follow the servant.'

[38] Kṛṣṇa said: 'O proud woman, the nature of a master's qualities should rather be understood differently: she is indeed contrary (vāmā), whereas we are upright (dakṣiṇa).'

[39] The messenger said: 'It is very true that you are clumsy (apasavya); for even though you use the word "upright" (dakṣiṇa) for yourselves, you do not abandon hostility (pratikūlatā)!'

[40] But Madhumaṅgala, as if not hearing that, said: 'O great king, being contrary (vāmātva) alone surely constitutes their strength, since they are women without strength (abalā)!'

[41] The messenger said: 'You are indeed connoisseurs of faults; how could you possibly seek out virtues?'

[42] Madhumaṅgala said: 'Since grammarians consider a "fault-finder" (purobhāgin) to be one who sees only faults, it is precisely for that reason that you have been placed at the forefront (purataḥ) by those wise women!'

[43] The messenger said: 'Before all of you, who are so countless, how can I, a single woman, give a reply? And you are particularly stubborn there! Nevertheless, let all listen: their "weakness" (abalātva) is surely by contrary implication, since they are seen to possess bodies that are weapons themselves! And observe this by looking at their foremost leader:'

'Her hair is a noose, the pair of her flickering eyes is a pair of arrows, her bending brow is a bow, / her nose, extending between her ears, is a splendid dagger, / her teeth are thunderbolts, and the other parts are similarly to be inferred; / equipped with these weapons, Rādhā herself rises—who then could be stronger than she?'

[44] Glancing askance at Kṛṣṇa himself with the words, 'Who then could be stronger than she?', she spoke. [45] As the two were thus debating, Kṛṣṇa, having contemplated her beauty as presented by the messenger, maintained his composure for a moment and said: 'O messenger, you are by nature one who sees everything inversely. What more can I say? But this is statecraft devised by my messenger, not fear.'

[46] 'Therefore, let your ladyship remain here for the time being. Let my messenger go there. Then, in accordance with the conduct and report of the scouts, when proper movement is secured, action shall be taken as is fitting.'

[47] Again he said to Madhumaṅgala, "Auspicious one, go there yourself."

[48] The female messenger said:
"One who abides by justice, reason, and authority is called an impartial mediator (madhya-stha);
but one who merely stands in the middle (madhye sthitaḥ) is regarded as an immovable object in the middle (madhya-sthāvara).

[49] And this fellow is a mere rogue! Therefore he does not even deserve instruction; so let him go of his own accord."

[50] But Madhumaṅgala submitted, "She is indeed accursed—how could she speak anything auspicious?" and saying, "As the great king commands," he departed. Having departed and approached their place, he secured their favour with showers of blessings.

[51] And bowing to them all, they smiled and asked him about his business.

[52] Madhumaṅgala, however, said, "Beholding your dance is indeed my business," and answered, "Furthermore, your female messenger has gone there and says, 'Our queen wishes to meet your sovereign majesty.' Considering that, out of astonishment, our king has commanded: 'She, indeed, is heard to have become devoted to someone else; therefore, we would not trust this. So let one of her sisters be given in marriage to someone among us; then it may lead to her welfare.'"

[53] With a movement of their eyebrows, they all said: "This fellow is the very embodiment of cunning, full of talkative clumsiness! Speaking a blatant distortion, he has approached merely to deceive us. He never speaks ill like this [ordinarily]. And that female envoy of ours would never perform such wicked conduct. But it is understood that she has been imprisoned."

[54] Viśākhā said, "Let him speak in this way or that way; why do you judge this at all? For whatever is done by this brāhmaṇa (vipra) is indeed called an offense (viprakṛta); how could it ever be proper (prakṛta)?"

[55] Madhumaṅgala said, "What is my gain in this?"

[56] Viśākhā said, "Ah, good brāhmaṇa, what has been gained should likewise be investigated!"

[57] Thus refuted, Madhumaṅgala said, "Now, how is this not our fault alone—we who destroy all weariness and are intent on displaying the good path of calm and restraint—since a desire for peace was sought, but by these [women] battle alone has been engaged?"

[58] Then Śrī Rādhikā said, "What strength does that king of yours possess, on account of which you boast so much?"

[59] Madhumaṅgala said:

"Expulsion [of rivals] by the proclamation of his host of virtues, attraction / by the art of his flute, agitation by his host of excellent forms, / paralysis by the circle of his amorous play, and subjection by the sweetness / of his voice—O fair-faced one, who is stronger than he?

Moreover: / The longest, the swiftest, the dearest, the most excellent, the thickest, the most abundant— / before our king, all are emptied of their pride.

And also: / The most numerous, the smallest, the oldest, the heaviest, the shortest, the most virtuous— / before our king, they become overcome by an opposite appearance."

[60] Then Śrī Rādhā, having somehow resolved the inner torment of love caused by hearing that, looked at Lalitā's face. Lalitā, however, spoke with lamentation:

"Where that flute, mute and deaf, has become eloquent, / why would not this one, born in the lineage of the Vedas, be an orator?

[61] But just as our female messenger has been detained, having likewise detained this very fellow, let us equip ourselves for battle! Afterwards, let the utterly fierce boys of the family priest of our fathers be commanded, and let them forcefully dress him in women's attire! And once that dress is made, let this fellow, the nephew of the priest of the king of Vraja and no mere child, go there and bring the words of our message close to his ears: 'We have no other girl; however, from the island of Siṃhala, an exceptional woman resembling a lotus (padminī) having the lustre of a lamp, surpassing all excellence, has been brought. Let her be wed by the king himself.'

[62] In that regard, she should not be despised because an exceptional woman (padminī) usually arises from a base family.

'Even from poison, nectar should be taken; / even from an impure place, gold; / even from a lowborn person, highest knowledge; / and an excellent woman, even from a base family'—so indeed it is remembered in tradition."

[63] Madhumaṅgala said, "Are not you ladies also lotus-like women (padminī)? Why then are they not unworthy in family?"

[64] Lalitā said with anger:

"Let that multitude of deer-eyed women, including Rādhikā, / who have constantly surpassed the lotus (padmā) by whom the lotus-plant (padminī) in the world is pervaded, / be called lotus-like women (padminī)! Ah!"

[65] Then Śrī Rādhikā, laughing and shining with the movement of her eyebrows, ordered fifty boys of her father's priest to dress him in that attire, sent that very message through the nephew of the royal priest, set her mind on the sport of battle, stationed him in female attire in the front, advanced with those armies of doe-eyed girls, stood facing battle, and kept Kṛṣṇa in her mind. And there:

He announced the Horī festival, and she announced it likewise; / he displayed love, and she displayed it to him.

[66] Then the crown prince of Gokula, acting as king, brought that kind of humiliation resembling bitterness to his ears from the mouth of the baṭu; having dressed that female messenger in male attire through certain bold women of his own party, he sent a message through that baṭu: "He alone is the fortunate bridegroom for that girl!"

[67] And having sent the message, he sent her forward like Madhumaṅgala and marched his army against them.

[68] Then, after their gazes had thus met and been fixed upon one another, when some other girls, gathering there out of curiosity while remaining neutral, by overt force made a treaty and tied together the hems of the garments of the two who were dressed in their respective costumes, and amidst bursts of varied laughter on both sides, the deer-eyed maidens belonging to Śrī Rādhā's party proclaimed this:

[69] "Our lotus-lady has been assaulted by this elderly groom! Therefore let an effort be mounted for battle!"

[70] Thereupon, when the percussion drums were joined together with the flutes and other instruments for martial music:

Playful teasing insults, the discharge of water from syringes, / the game's manner of dropping and parrying staffs, / seizing the beloved's form by trickery, and the aid of comrades / shone brightly in the battle of Hari's Holi festival. ||

[71] And after a long time, as the company of Rāma, Śrīdāman, Sudāman, and the others ceased their own banter and mock-quarrels merely to watch Kṛṣṇa's display of skill, Kṛṣṇa himself, thirsting for that play, suddenly engaged in a playful battle with his beloveds.

[72] First indeed, he and they, full of affection, clashed and pierced one another, for—

For those whose bows are eyebrows and whose arrows are glances in the battle of love, / how could the arrows of bodily limbs, alas, ever miss their mark? ||

[73] Then again, Hari waged this combat intensely, hand to hand, after staff-to-staff fighting; that is to say—

Swinging his arms, touching with his fingers, seizing hair, removing garments, / waving his hands, and saying words beyond measure one after another, / Kṛṣṇa entered that army of the women of others in such a way that his own people / did not know where he had gone, nor even that multitude, nor even himself. ||

[74] And then gradually, each overstepping the next with unprecedented zeal, surrounded by their companions, having uncommon swiftness in playful warfare, an engagement came to pass between Rādhā and Mādhava alone. And there, abandoning their own activities as they watched that marvelous spectacle, the fair-complexioned maidens, astonished by their wondrous delight and surrounding them with their golden forms, described it to one another.

[76] For thus was sung:

"Look, look, O friend, at this Holi battle, / fought in secret by Rādhā and Mādhava, which you have long desired to see! [Refrain]

Now that staff-to-staff fighting has ended, breaking all obstacles by degrees, / their close embrace shines here, awakening a splendor that rivals lightning and a dark cloud.

As both their faces were covered when her head-cloth began to slip, / one face acted as a bee, while the other was a multitude of lotuses.

By the serpent of Hari's arm, the play of a hood was made in many ways upon her chest, / where the swallowing of a pair of cakravāka birds was repeatedly perceived as an adept act.

Moreover, behold in this place, devoid of trees, / the lord of young tamāla trees encircled by a fresh golden vine!

Rādhā, made powerful by the aid of the young maidens, subdues him, / and turning him back with eager joy, leads him off toward her own territory.

Having brought him along, his new yellow cloth sprinkled with musk-water, / the troop of slender maidens makes him excessively intoxicated with love's delight.

That this Rādhā herself here steals his flute with great effort, ah, / is not surprising, since she first stole the jewel of his heart!

Then the party of friends, Rāma and the others, seeing him detained, / wished to make a truce, sending to them a messenger of pure virtue.

When Rāma consented to give what was to be given on the Phālguna festival, / Hari was then permitted by them to go, upon receiving a hostage.

When the treaty was concluded and the celestial folk praised it completely, / he was seen singing songs that aroused delusion in his beloveds." [Thus] ||

[77] Such being the state of affairs, while reciprocal carcarī songs were being composed to the wonder of all, and both assemblies had moved a little distance apart, suddenly, out of nowhere, the foolish Śaṅkhacūḍa arrived. But he was thoroughly vile, so enough of detailing him at length.

[78] Now the conclusion:

"That he killed Śaṅkhacūḍa and gave the jewel, / O Rādhā, this beloved of yours did both for your sake." ||

Thus ends the thirtieth chapter, entitled
"The Play of Shameless Holi,"
in the venerable Gopālacampū.
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