69. || ODE ||

To the Lord of the Universe and the Lord of my heart!

The wielder of the discus, the custodian of multiverse!

O Madhava, Achyuta, Keshava; Your names are infinite and so is your allure!

Happy Birthday, Bhuvanasundara!

Every poem of mine is dedicated to you in your beloved, Sri Radhika's voice.

Here's one in mine!

Hold my hands, dear friend!

Bring me back to the world of mortals

Even though it aches

To be in this cobweb of Illusions

It aches more when He leaves me thirsty.

Hold my hand, Sakhi!

For I am becoming

A Radha in love.

This body of mine

Isn't mine anymore.

With it He has stolen my heart

That man, dark hued, the handsomest of them all

He, the thief in His own divine play

The wielder of the flute

The wearer of peacock feathers;

He came and stole away

Leaving me disoriented

Like a wisp of smoke.

Or am I just becoming

A Radha in love?

These feet that once ambled about

Wherever they wished

Why do, now, they only seek

Him and His abode?

These eyes that once

Were the envy of all girls

Now only wish to savour

His sight

That man

The one who calls Himself Krishna

The one whom I call Manmohana

The enchanter

Of my mind.

Maybe I am just becoming

A Radha in love.

My dear Radhika!

I wonder how you did it.

He fills me up to the brim

And I am still hungry

My bosom pains like it has been

Pierced.

And then there was you.

Who learnt and taught to love

And to let go.

My dear Radhika,

I can never become a Radha in love.