Chapter summary
प्रणयकलहोत्सव: Praṇaya Kalahotsava:
The Festival of the Lovers' Quarrel
**The Sadguru said:**
Once upon a time, Śrī Rangarāja, with a quiver adorning his broad chest, accompanied by his retinue of attendants, mounted a horse. As a skilled bowman, he roamed and sported on a hunt along the banks of the Kaveri. This was a cool and verdant place, densely forested with trees like Campaka, Punnāga, Candana, Pārijāta, Pāṭala, Aśoka, Bakula, Asana, Kadalī, Nālikera, Panasa, Jambīra, Cūta, and Pūga. The air was filled with the soft murmur of cuckoo flocks, delighted by the humming of swarms of bees, which, curious, circled the new blossoms sprouting from the tender shoots on the branches of mango trees, themselves embraced by jasmine creepers and gently swayed by the Malaya breeze. (v.1)
At that very moment, Princess Śrī Vāsalakṣmī, the daughter of King Dharmavarma, arrived there, surrounded by her host of female friends. She sported about, wandering like Lakṣmī herself, gathering beautiful flowers, playfully fashioning a garland, cooing sweetly like a Śārikā bird, shining like the moonlight, gazing like a doe, smiling like a lotus, making her anklets jingle, playing with a ball, and enchanting even the mind of Kāma, the god of love. (v.2)
There, she chanced to see the King of Śrīraṅgam, roaming at will. His body was the colour of a new raincloud, and he wore golden garments. He was adorned with ornaments such as bracelets, tinkling bells, necklaces, and armlets. His speech was charming, and he was the nourisher of his people. His face was exceedingly beautiful with a gentle smile, his teeth like jasmine buds. His forehead was graced with a musk tilaka, and he wore a golden crown, his curly locks framing shark-shaped earrings. (v.3)
And he, the lotus-eyed one, the father of Kāma, also beheld that maiden. She was a tender princess who captivated his own mind, a beauty with eyes like blue water lilies and a smile like the white lotus. Her face was like the moon, her gait like a swan's, and her hips were full. Her eyes were restless, her words charming, her form sweet, and she was in the full bloom of youth. Her feet were like lotuses, she was adorned with various ornaments, and she was engaged in conversation. (v.4)
Seeing that virtuous lady with beautiful teeth, Kṛṣṇa asked, "Who are you, O beautiful-faced one, who steals my heart?" Placing her hand on the mirror of her cheek, Padma (Vāsalakṣmī), her face smiling with a blush of modesty, stood like a statue. (v.5)
Then, one of her friends replied, "This is Vāsalakṣmī, the daughter of the Chola king, my friend. Wishing to cross the daughter of Kavera [the Kaveri river] and go to the city of Lord Raṅganātha, she intends to board a boat this very day. O King, who are you?" (v.6)
Hearing these words of the friend with respect, Murāri, with a captivating, gentle smile, looked affectionately at the King of Birds [Garuḍa], who stood beside him in the guise of a horse-servant, his hands folded in reverence. (v.7)
Garuḍa then addressed the princess, "Ignoring the waiting of Brahmā and the other gods all around, this Puruṣottama stays in your city, having then gone to the pleasure garden. O maiden, you should worship that Śrīraṅganātha here." (v.8)
Hearing these words of the King of Birds, the princess, along with her friends, became enchanted with love. She suddenly offered her garland upon the chest of Madhusūdana and prostrated at his feet. (v.9)
Mukunda embraced her along with her dear friends and lovingly gave her a ring. Then, taking her hand in his, he wandered affectionately on the bank of Kavera's daughter. (v.10)
Then, wandering and sporting in the groves of Mālati, Mallikā, and Mādhavī creepers, the two of them shone brightly. They were swayed by the gentle Malaya breeze that rustled through the blades of grass and water channels, engaged in the play of love, and filled with a delightful clamour from hearing the sweet warbling of cuckoo pairs. Eager for sport, they savoured the juices of jackfruit, mango, and banana. They were the progenitors of love, their tender lips red from betel leaves, captivators of the minds of young women, and eager to hear the sweet music made by their friends. Full of sentiment, their graceful gait and charm surpassed that of a young elephant. Their faces were beautiful with sweet mutual conversation, and they were true lovers, exceedingly charmed by the music of the sweet vīṇā, flute, and mṛdaṅga. The sands of the Sahya's daughter [Kaveri] were marked by their lotus feet as they moved about freely. Their excellent bodies were anointed by the embrace of love, and they were beautiful, their various jewelled and golden ornaments glittering in the rays of the moon. They nourished their mutual love, their beautiful smiles, with rows of teeth that surpassed the jasmine bud, were engaged in the play of passion. Eternally youthful, they brought joy to the world. (v.11)
Thereafter, the Lord of Raṅga returned to Raṅgapura, and the princess went to Niculāpurī. The hearts of both were stolen by each other, now utterly captivated by mutual love. (v.12)
"My dear, where has my ring gone?" the Goddess [Raṅganāyakī] lovingly asked Śauri. "It slipped from my hand on the path by itself," replied the best of those who know how to speak appropriately. (v.13)
That Śrī Vāsalakṣmī, along with her friends, spent the day in remembrance of Śrī Raṅgarāja. In the evening, she came once again to the bank of Sahya's daughter [Kaveri]. (v.14)
Gazing with reverence at that very same place of sport, fit for union with Ananta, she saw a bower of creepers and an excellent couch fashioned from soft new leaves. (v.15)
Pained in her heart by that sight, the young girl was burned by the forest fire of separation from Govinda. In the region of the bowers on the bank of the Kaveri, remembering her beloved, she lamented: (v.16)
"O Moon [Sudhākara], though you are cool, you give heat to young women! You were born from the heart of Kṛṣṇa, yet there is no compassion in your heart." (v.17)
"Though you are a repository of nectar [sudhānidhi], you give only poison. What more to me, a simple girl suffering from the pain of separation from Viṣṇu?" (v.18)
"O Manobhava [Kāma], you were born from the mind of Mukunda. There is no gentleness or sweetness in you at all; you pierce me in vain at night." (v.19)
"O Vidhi [Brahmā], though you were born from Viṣṇu, you are adverse to me, alas! Arrange for my union with the Lord of the Universe immediately." (v.20)
"O Mahālakṣmī, you are my elder sister [Jyeṣṭhā]. Are you giving me the goddess Jyeṣṭhā [misfortune]? Please send me my beloved, who is the eldest and best of the gods." (v.21)
"O friend, were you born together with me? Why is this unbearable suffering yours, my dear? O friend, how do you bear this unbearable separation from Kṛṣṇa?" (v.22)
"O Kṛṣṇasāra [black buck], you who are the best among those who know the black buck [Kṛṣṇa], please come! Quickly bring Kṛṣṇa, who wanders on the banks of the Kṛṣṇā [Kaveri]." (v.23)
"O Nīlakaṇṭha [peacock], salutations to you! Dance before me. Bring here the one with a blue body, who is playfully moving, the one who sports." (v.24)
"O bee, you too, please come, O beloved of Madhusūdana! Go to the city of Madhurā [Śrīraṅgam] and bring Mādhava here." (v.25)
"O Mādhava [the month of Vasantha], you are honoured by Mādhava [Kṛṣṇa], O lover of spring! Unite me with Mādhava in the Mādhavī creeper pavilion." (v.26)
"O Śārikā bird, I grieve from separation from Śauri. Be my refuge! Go quickly to the city of Śrīraṅgam and chirp about my condition." (v.27)
"O Parabhṛta [cuckoo], come quickly! You are always nourished by others [parabhṛta]. Go to the Supreme Person and convey my surrender, my dear." (v.28)
"O Sadāgati [wind], please come! Where do you always go? Bring here that form of eternal bliss, the refuge of the good." (v.29)
"O swan, do not entertain the thought 'I am He' [so'ham haṃsaḥ]. Bring here that royal swan born of the swan lineage." (v.30)
"O cloud, you rain in vain! Are you not ashamed to see me? Bring here that Meghashyāma [one dark as a cloud], whose rain of compassion is unfailing." (v.31)
Thus the princess, accompanied by her attendants, lamented piteously from the pain of separation from Viṣṇu. The Sahyaj-born river [Kaveri], like a friend, consoling her with its garland of gentle water-waves, moved amidst the sandbanks. (v.32)
And Hari, leaving his eldest wife who lay on his chest, on the soft bed in a private chamber, and remembering that beloved in his heart, set out slowly, slowly at night on the path to the city called Niculā. (v.33)
Taking with him in secret various articles of women's wealth—brand new gem-necklaces, a girdle, bracelets, a golden silk garment, a ball, and saffron—he mounted an excellent horse and rode off with the speed of love. (v.34)
As he arrived, her friends, filled with love, had Mukunda welcomed with excellent jewelled lamps and auspicious Ārātrika. With very sweet songs, she brought her beloved near to her own palace. (v.35)
Hundreds of maidservants performed service for the Lord with reception, a fine seat, respectful offerings, washing of the feet, betel leaves, rest, fanning, perfumes, and garlands, arranging his hair, preparing the bed, bathing, and bringing offerings. (v.36)
The Lord of Raṅga, the embodiment of bliss, shone here, delighting his beloved's friends with various dear sports like music, dance, ball games, swings, dice, and swimming. (v.37)
As the Lord of Raṅga, eager to grasp his beloved's breasts and kiss her, joyfully entered the bedchamber, the maidservants, having properly secured the door panels, stood at the door and sang a sweet song through the night. (v.38)
Meanwhile, the great queen, Śrīmatī [Raṅganāyakī], not seeing the God of gods and seeing only her female friends, dispatched four clever servants, skilled in spotting the path torn by the horse's hooves, to search for him. He was the one who bears the responsibility of protecting the people, who holds the conch and Sudarśana, whose sight increases joy, who is an ocean of compassion, who was prevented from his nightly sports, who is conquered by love-play, who has conquered the three worlds, who is the beauty of the universe, the handsome son-in-law [of the ocean], and who was wandering on a hunt on the riverbank. She, whose husband was away, bereft of well-being due to his separation, her eyes heavy with sleep, took counsel with her assembled friends. Informed by her friends about her husband's activities, she became mute with sorrow. (v.39)
Honoured by the blooming lotus ponds, worshipped with Arghya offerings given by the Bhūdevas [Brahmins], heralded by the joyful crowing of the rooster, the thousand-rayed Lord, the Sun, rises. (v.40)
Then the Lord, hearing the morning song sung by his attendants, opened his lotus eyes. He, who increases the delight of the eyes, holding his golden garment in his hand, gave his darśan with his beloved at the opened door. Having been given Arghya, Pādya, water for rinsing the mouth, and for sipping, he looked into a jewelled mirror. He, whose gait was like an elephant's, having been seen by his beloved, embraced that beautiful lady. Drinking the sweet milk given by her and accepting the betel leaves prepared with boundless love, he, though his garment was held by her, left Niculāpurī, mounted his horse, and went to the city of Śrīraṅgam. (v.41)
Seeing Raṅga before her, who had thus come in the morning with his famous deeds, silently revealing his nature, she had the door of her palace bolted shut and, filled with a lover's anger, became drenched in tears. (v.42)
As he, the embodiment of bliss, the lord of the world, was striking the large door, Padma, as if not knowing him, filled with love, playfully questioned her lord: (v.43)
"Who are you?" "It is Hari [a monkey]." "If you are a monkey, go to a mountain cave." "My dear, see, it is I, Kṛṣṇa." "If you are Kṛṣṇa [black], go hence to a dark forest and console your beloved." "Open the door, I am Mādhava [Vasantha]." "Why have you come here in the winter season?" Thus, his face struck by her retorts, Acyuta stood silent. (v.44)
Then, urged by Kamalā, the female friends opened the bolted door. The Goddess assailed her husband, who was grasping her feet, with betel leaves, flowers, and other things out of insistence. (v.45)
He of the lotus-like eyes, his face feigning a smile, gently consoling the lady, asked her with compassion: (v.46)
**Śrī Raṅganātha said:**
"O Devī, why do you behave so adversely towards me without cause? Moonlight never becomes hot, O beautiful one." (v.47)
**Śrī Devī said:**
"Leaving me here on the bed, where did you go at night? You do not know the dharma of love, O Keśava, life of my life!" (v.48)
**Śrī Bhagavān said:**
"I, who am responsible for the welfare of the world, have many duties. I wander here and there without rest, my dear." (v.49)
**Śrī Devī said:**
"My lord, tell me, to whom was your ring given? I wish to see that beloved of yours, O lotus-eyed one." (v.50)
**Śrī Bhagavān said:**
"O Kāmākṣī, I know no other beloved but you, my dear. The ring slipped by itself there in the Kaveri." (v.51)
**Śrī Devī said:**
"O lotus-eyed one, why was all the women's wealth stolen by you? Tell me to whom it was given, my lord. There is no anger in my heart." (v.52)
**Śrī Bhagavān said:**
"I know of no women's wealth; you are the jewel among women, my dear. Leaving you in the night, what fruit is there for me in the three worlds?" (v.53)
**Śrī Devī said:**
"Your lotus-eye is languid, O you whose eyes are as large as a lotus! It is from staying awake all night that you have thus fallen under the sway of Anaṅga [Kāma]." (v.54)
**Śrī Bhagavān said:**
"O frail one, do you not know? It is from separation from you alone that I have been staying awake and find no sleep at night." (v.55)
**Śrī Devī said:**
"Go and console your beloved in Niculāpurī today, my lord. Your lady-love, in separation, awaits your glance." (v.56)
**Śrī Bhagavān said:**
"Truly, truly, I know no other beloved than you. Know me to be yours alone. All the gods are witnesses." (v.57)
**Śrī Devī said:**
"O best of gods, all the gods are always under your control. By your power, O Keśava, falsehood would become truth." (v.58)
**Śrī Bhagavān said:**
"Placing my hand in a serpent's mouth, I declare: O beautiful lady, I know no other beloved in this world but you." (v.59)
**Śrī Devī said:**
"My lord, for you who recline on a serpent, what fear is there in placing your arm in a serpent's mouth, O best of men, O serpent?" (v.60)
**Śrī Bhagavān said:**
"Holding a heated piece of iron in my hand by the fire, I take an oath, my love: I know no other beloved." (v.61)
**Śrī Devī said:**
"For you, who hold in your hand the discus that is equal to a crore of suns, what is impossible about holding a piece of heated iron?" (v.62)
**Śrī Bhagavān said:**
"O frail one, O resident of the lotus, forgive this offense. Bring me inside quickly and worship me, O beautiful-faced one." (v.63)
Hearing these sweet words of the Lord of all, who is worshipped by all the gods, Śrī, the goddess of Raṅga herself, with her head bowed, kept her silence in her ears and mind. And her beloved immediately came near to her with love. (v.64)
At this moment, the sage Bhṛgu, having approached Śrī, spoke to his daughter, consoling her like a father, and gently taught her the dharma, saying, "It is never proper for women to censure their husbands in this way." (v.65)
"By my father's command, come into the house, O King!" With such reverence, she brought her beloved, the sole king of the world, inside, seated him on a fine seat, and with devotion, along with her friends, performed his worship. (v.66)
The beloved, having pleased his sweetheart who was distressed by the lover's quarrel, with sweet and charming words, was worshipped by his attendants. Raṅgarāja, with Padma, his queen consort, shone on an excellent jewelled couch. (v.67)
Thus, in the work "Divya Desa Vaibhavam" composed by Śrī Kṛṣṇapremi Mahāprabhu, in the Fourth Volume, the twenty-ninth chapter, named "The Festival of the Lovers' Quarrel".
