The Cloud Messenger

Unwell all day in body and mind,
licking my wounds by looking for rhymes.
The rain came down at quarter to four.

I did not realize until quite late that night,
the drumbeat of rain was really a code:
Devi had sent a messenger cloud.
Decrypted, her voice came through, clear and bold,
and this is what her letter told:

O Manjari! You're at least 12 by now.
You're old enough to know better.

It is strange you have to be told
that you and the sakhis, not I, hold
the lila in the palms of your hands.
Don't you know your role?

You're not there just to sweep the kunja,
or stop Krishna from coming in when Lalita scolds.
You're not there just to wait for nectar to fall.
Don't you know what seva and dasi mean?
Who's the servant and who's the Queen?

O Dasi!
Krishna was speaking to you that night
when he told Arjuna he had to fight!
You too have a field of work, so do;
Work your field of duty, kuru.

Do you think it was easy for Arjuna to fight?
But he was a warrior and that was his right;
while Radha's just a kula bala,
a woman with a thousand badha,
a family that holds her bound in knots,
they hold her tight behind four walls;
Jatila and Kutila and the family cows
keep her out of Krishna's sight.

Whatever the pravasa, far or near, long or short,
whatever the maan, with a cause or not,
It's up to you to find a way.
The Jugal milan is your task;
I don't know why you had to ask!

Find a way, it's up to you--
Hide Krishna in a box!
Get in the door, pick the locks!
Dress him up as a goddess or a girl,
Have him make a garden of pearls.
Be a duti, do your duty, find a way!
You're not the audience, you're in the play!

The doors to Vraja are open wide
and if you die trying, at least,
at least you can say you tried.

The fun is all in getting it done.
I, Yogamaya, am your servant, the Lila is yours;
Radha and Krishna meet at your command.
Find them in the woods where they hanker afar;
Take them by the hand and do abhisar.
I promise you'll see the Nitya Vihara.

You were probably surprised to hear from me.
My message is this: You are free! You are free!

Chandra Vadani

This is the top of the mountain.
We walked the last kilometer, and there were stairs,
so no alpinist heroics, but the air is thin
enough to make our heads all spin.

We look down on freewheeling falcons
flying far above the terraced slopes.

Wisps of cloud cling to neighbor peaks
like the yaksha's doot, resting weary from his trip,
waiting maybe for more messages to bring
the beloved, who wanes upon the snowy summits
that trim the no longer lost horizon.

Devi mantras, dhaks and dhols,
sussurating Sapta-shati, bellows and bells.
I buy my coconut and bring it to you,
Devi Chandravadani.

O Yoga Maya, I am with you again,
under this pale and crystal sky.
Like I was in Vrindavan,
in elated circumambulation;
Like I was in in Nabadwip,
under the midnight black and tangled
branches of Pora Ma.

I am praying once again for what you have,
with which you tantalize, but never give;
I beg you: apavrinu apavrinu.

From here on high, Paurnamasi Devi,
from this tiny particle of Govardhan,
from this place where you cover the universe
with your dancing veils of illusion,
I am praying again, apavrinu apavrinu.

With straw in my mouth, I ask you this:
Why do you separate the Divine Couple?
Why do you make them vagabond apart,
lost in thorn and snake-filled Vrindavan?
Why do you make Radha wear this maan?
And make Krishna powerless, like a captured thief,
who begs the trees and birds, and you, for relief?

Can't you make it simple, fling open wide the drape,
and show us their divine, eternal, joyous state?
It seems you like this keeping them apart.
I know it's all a question of your art,
but this Lila's weighing heavy on my heart...
Devi, apavrinu apavrinu.