Spring filled Vrindavan with fresh fragrances. Madhavi vines bent over the paths. Narada was telling the story to King Bahulashva. The king wished to hear what happened next. Radha had already received assurance of Krishna's love. Now the account opened toward a festive night. It was the month of Vaishakha. The moon was rising above the Yamuna's bank. Krishna went toward the flowering woodland grove. There joy would become a shared dance.
The forest revealed its radiant form. The ground seemed adorned with gold and jewels. Trees offered shade and generous canopies. Moonlight shimmered over the river. Steps of precious stones were pictured along its banks. Lotuses and swans made the water beautiful. Govardhan rose with its forests and caves. Birds could be heard along its slopes. Streams glittered between the flowers. All Vraja seemed to prepare for the meeting.
Flowers of different colors filled the groves. Leaves let the light through in delicate patterns. Cuckoos filled the quiet with their calls. Peacocks and doves added to the woodland voice. Bees circled the open blossoms. The breeze moved lotus pollen along the bank. No sound stood entirely alone. Everything joined the anticipation of music. Spring fragrance passed from branch to branch. The paths led toward the heart of the celebration.
The sakhis arrived in their groups. Some carried flower ornaments. Others tended the place of gathering. There were singers, dancers and musicians. Every gift had a part in the common joy. In the poetic account the Yamuna herself arrived. Her form was adorned in white and pearls. Lalita and Vishakha came with their companions. All approached with love for Radha and Krishna. The woodland grove filled with living company.
Krishna stood among them with His flute. His yellow clothing shone beneath the moon. A peacock feather adorned His hair. His flower garland carried the forest's fragrance. He appeared like an accomplished dancer. The music gathered their glances around Him. Radha stood beside Him at the center of their joy. The gopis answered with song. Their voices did not compete with the flute. They joined its invitation.
Krishna took Radha's tender hand. Together they approached the Yamuna's bank. The water reflected the bright night. He sat beside the river and spoke with her. Their glances turned toward beloved Vrindavan. Then they walked the woodland paths again. They passed from one flowering grove to another. Their laughter sounded through the vines. The celebration was more than remaining in one circle. It moved with their closeness.
For a moment Krishna hid behind the branches. Radha noticed Him through the greenery. She approached and found Him in the grove. Then she moved away with a playful step. The jingling of her ornaments revealed her path. Krishna followed her between the trees. When He arrived, she had already moved farther on. Their play resembled a cloud and a moving golden flash. Neither lost trust in the other. Hiding became another way of meeting.
The gopis gathered again at the place of rasa. Krishna extended His presence among them. In the account each gopi danced with Him. The circle left no one's love outside. The song carried the movement of their feet. Garlands swayed with the rhythm. Smiles answered glances. Every moment was shared, and every meeting intimate. Radha remained the heart of that spring beauty. Vrindavan received the music into its branches.
Later the company approached the water. The Yamuna offered refreshment after the dance. Joyful play continued among shining droplets. Flowers fell from their hair onto the surface. Their colors floated in the moon's reflection. The gopis sang of Krishna beside Him. The sound of the mridanga accompanied their praise. Joy did not vanish when the place changed. It flowed from the woodland circle toward the river. The same closeness connected every scene.
Celestial onlookers marveled at the gathering. In the poetic picture flowers showered from above. They mingled with the garlands below. River, forest and sky shared the celebration. Radha and Krishna were surrounded by their sakhis. Each could contribute a voice or an act of care. The spring night held no victory over another. It held joy in the beloved's presence. Narada left that picture before his listener. The moon continued to shine above the Yamuna.