Komarraju Venkata Vinay
Love Songs Of Radha And Krishna 6 - Poem by Komarraju Venkata Vinay
I cannot endure
I fear his embrace.
Hide me friends.
See how his nails cut
My tender waist.
My tresses, see, how torn.
Friends make haste.
My lips, my cheeks, my neck
They are kiss-burnt.
Believe me, he ravishes me.
Here he come, go, don’t!
A chance reading of Vidyapati’s Classic “Love Songs” of Radha and Krishna translated by Duben Bhattacharya struck a chord in my then love-warming heart, which resulted in these poems. They were written during the dulcet days when I was courting my own ‘Radha’.
Love is beyond all rules and laws. In fact, it is law unto itself. It evokes every shade of emotion in the heart it smites. Having been love-smitten, I have tried to capture its contours.
I had been so influenced by the poems of Vidyapati that the reader can notice my feeble verses reverberating to his ‘Majestic Muse’. This I am not in the least ashamed of. The reason is simple: I have followed ‘Love’. Moreover, like Vidyapati, I believe that ‘the divinity of Krishna and Radha is of little consequence, since it is as lovers that they are commemorated’ in these poems.
Every lover is Krishna and every beloved is Radha. The legend of their love is experienced by all that have felt Love’s electrifying touch. I share the opinion that ‘Krishna and Radha symbolize the Embrace of Yin and Yang, the Unification of Masculine and Feminine energies, the merging of Humanity and the Divine. When one transcends and awakens to the Truth, one sees that we are all united with the universe and that we are never alone. When our energies balance, we manifest our own reality. That is the essence of Krishna and Radha, the Divine Embrace’.
The mention of bites and fingernail marks is found in many a poem. They are considered signs of passion in Indian tradition.
They express the emotive power of the union between the lover and the beloved. It must be mentioned here that ‘the associations are not sadistic, but more like hickeys in American tradition or love bites in the British tradition’.
I have called these poems “The Fire of Love” in the sense that love, like fire, is all-consuming and all-purifying. The longing heart holds the inferno of a thousand suns. The cool shower of the sweetheart’s sight soothes the searing soul. I can vouch for it.
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