Vanyasrita Murarih Kanyah

May Murari, who took shelter by the water while maddening the young maidens there, and whose friendship is granted only to the fortunate, destroy in us the desire for anything other than himself.

Boldly, all around the pious young girls who were observing their vow — worshiping Girija with a bath in the water — that mischievous, relish-loving cowherd boy, his boyish nature still so plainly evident, appeared there at the riverbank, and they found themselves, as it were, exposed before him.

That mischievous one, forming his plan, his mind stirred with longing like Cupid himself, approached and stole the heaped garments belonging to his dear friends; then swiftly and joyfully he climbed up into a tree standing in the forest grove on the bank.

Then, as if out of kindness prolonging their bath, he caused the girls great embarrassment, holding aloft the pile of washed garments with delight; the Lord, laughing and overjoyed — hear now these joyful words of his that dispel all distress!

"Come forward, together or one by one, openly and without evasion, and take your garments — there is no trick in this; I have not spoken falsely since my birth. Know this to be true, radiant with my good name; those who are pure of heart understand these are the words of a true well-wisher. I say this not in jest but in earnest, for you, alas, have grown weary from keeping your vow" — so he said, displaying his cleverness.

"O most restless one, do not start a quarrel! Give us our garments right now and stop your tricks; we will always do as you say, O giver of delight. We are devoted to your service and to no one else. If you do not return them at once, you cheat, we will report all your doings to the mighty king, you who are wild with pride!" Such were the harsh words that burst out of them in anger, and they wept in their anger, those fair-eyed girls whose lovely bodies trembled hard in the numbing waters of the Yamuna, their charming eyes darting about.

Having heard this, then, his affectionate smile shining brighter still, he said: "If you women insist on holding your ground without heeding my nectarean words, then come, approach the tree, and take up your own garments, each her own, with joy; give up this unbecoming, timid hesitation — for if you do not, I certainly will not hand them down. What indeed could even an angry, powerful king do against me, whose strength has no limit?"

Speaking these clear, pure words, twirling a lotus, he rose up joyful like the moon; seeing those doe-eyed girls covering themselves with their own hands as their only garments, he shook his head and said: "Alas, young women, by bathing naked in the water out of eager longing, against the rule, you have slighted Varuna, lord of the waters. So enough of this: to wipe away that fault, devoutly and quickly place both your radiant, reddish hands upon your heads," so he now said.

Delighting inwardly, his heart brimming with the sweet intoxication of his own words, the joyful young women, forming the gesture of folded hands with beautiful sidelong glances, bowed low before that sweetly playful, artfully charming one.

To that row of lovely, bashfully bowed women, his heart sprouting all around with tender affection, he gladly restored their garments and ornaments — those women joyous yet still yearning with longing, modestly bowed, granted at last the union they desired with their beloved; their fresh love now blossoming, their radiance shining forth, faint smiles breaking on their faces, their sashes and skirts fluttering, their whole bodies visibly trembling, their fingertips trembling with joy — and to that whole delighted host he granted the very boon each one desired.

He, the foremost of lovers, now greatly delighted, surrounded by his joyful companions, with the ever-fresh, murmuring melodies of his flute played in manifold ways, stirred waves of longing in the lovely-eyed girls, maddening their hearts with delight, and by his mercy sent joy into their very homes, he who is himself the very embodiment of playful joy.

Wearing a fresh cluster of flowers as an ornament at his ear, he who is the shelter of the entire universe —

All glories to you, slayer of Kesi, whose very pastimes are proof of the highest love! You who bestow the deepest affection upon your own people — O Lord, even upon me, wretched of heart, at the hour of parting, please cast your mercy, O red-lipped one!

O Mukunda, even the slightest spark of whose love, the moment it touches the hearts of sages, makes them instantly lose all taste for the happiness of liberation the very moment it is tasted — who indeed is capable of praying for such love, offered so boldly? Yet this alone is my desire: that it may increase, birth after birth, within me.