The extracts from two of Vidyapati's Radha-Krishna poems from the late 14th century –– when he was court poet to Sivasimha, a warlord in the regions of Mithila –– are prehensible in the light of the divine love we are all witness to.
They speak of Krishna, adorned with a garland of forest flowers, biding his time by the Yamuna in the Dheer Sameer kunj –– a thick copse of trees where the gentle cooling breeze would blow across from the river and be perfumed with kadamba blossoms –– waiting for Radha to arrive at the panghat to fill water in her earthen pot.
I shall stand beneath the kadamba tree; I shall stand in the tribhaga pose and play my flute as you go to draw water. And when you hear the flute you will be enchanted, simple girl.
Ah, do not think of others as you do of me, the god of love has woven in a garland your heart and mine, and I will do as you desire, in Vrindavana.
In Vrindavana, Dheer Sameer used to be situated on the banks of the Yamuna, then, and its 'sparkling sands' were said to be as 'fine as ground camphor.' Today, of course, it's an expanse of concrete and man-made structures, and the Yamuna's receded far from it.The Chiro-Kadamba tree still stands, though, and you wouldn't be faulted if you were to see Vidyapati's verses come alive right there where was manifest the love supreme, the love divine, the love everlasting.
We are all divine beings. The magic flute plays its song of passion for each one of us. The love we feel within is godly. There need be no call beyond that of this supreme love which makes us immortal, no answer to our passions more virtuous than that which this heavenly love gifts us with. The garland, not of myriad wild blooms but rich kadamba blossoms of natural gold, wrought by accomplished hands in filigreed flowers woven together with repoussé braids, awaits your gentle consideration, it's ancient and empyrean purity evident to all.
When we search our soul and yearn the love above all love, our desire leads us to divinity such that we forget all that is tangible in our quest for the rutilant unseen.
"There is madness in such pursuit," many will say, to which we shall hold up our radiant Chiro-Kadamphul Har and exclaim, "If such the insanity be that lead us to a love divine, we embrace this fragrant madness as our true and beautiful destiny."