Govinda, Damodara, Madhava!

Before I leave lIlASuka, let me dwell upon this topic for one more day (bonus to you
latAjI:-). There are three recensions of SrIkRshNakarNAmRta (SKK). It is the second
volume that is more famous in the southern parts of India. Daily prayers such as
kastUrI tilakam, karAraviMdEna, etc. are from this. There is even an album on
SKK, which I happen to listen to on the net. Still, except for a few individual
poems, there is no musical edition of SKK like we have for gItagOviMda or taraMgiNi
(which are called taraMgAlu in the Telugu country). Besides SKK, lIlASuka is credited
with gOviMda dAmOdara stOtra. This is a volume with about 70 poems, all in the
upajAti metre (as in karAraviMdEna...). I am going to give one poem here and also
another English poem that this poem gave inspiration to.

vikrEtu kAmAkila gOpakanyA
murAri pAdArpita chittavRtti@h
dadhyAdikaM mOhavaSAdavOchad
gOviMda dAmOdara mAdhavEti

There was this gOpi who was selling curds. While she was selling milk and curds to
feed the family, her mind was on SrIkRshNa. In her ecstacy, instead of shouting her
wares (milk... curd... butter), she began to say aloud gOviMda, mAdhava, dAmOdara.
The person who was inspired by this poem was none other than Sarojini Naidu. I am
giving her poem too for your enjoyment.

"I carried my curds to the Mathura fair....
How softly the heifers were lowing.... [heifer = young cow]
I wanted to cry, `Who will buy
These curds that are white as the clouds in the sky
When the breezes of Shrawan are blowing?'
But my heart was so full of your beauty, Beloved,
They laughed as I cried without knowing:
Govinda! Govinda! Govinda! Govinda!
How softly the river was flowing!

"I carried my pots to the Mathura tide....
How gaily the rowers were rowing!...
My comrades called, `Ho! let us dance, let us sing
And wear saffron garments to welcome the spring.
And pluck the new buds that are blowing.'
But my heart was so full of your music, Beloved,
They mocked when I cried without knowing:
Govinda! Govinda! Govinda! Govinda!
How gaily the river was flowing!

"I carried my gifts to the Mathura shrine....
How brightly the torches were glowing!...
I folded my hands at the altars to pray
`O shining ones guard us by night and day'--
And loudly the conch shells were blowing.
But my heart was so lost in your worship, Beloved,
They were wroth when I cried without knowing: [wroth = angry]
Govinda! Govinda! Govinda! Govinda!
How brightly the river was flowing!"

Regards! - mOhana