Festival At Surendra's House

Sunday, June 15, 1884

SRI RAMAKRISHNA arrived in the morning at the garden house of Surendra, one of his beloved householder disciples, in the village of Kankurgachi near Calcutta. Surendra had invited him and a large number of the devotees to a religious festival.

Occasions like this were a source of great happiness and rejoicing to the Master’s devotees. He was then seen at his best.

He joined with the others in devotional music and in chanting the names of God, frequently going into ecstasy. He poured out his entire soul in inspired talk, explaining the various phases of God-Consciousness. The impressions of such a festival lingered in the minds of all for many days.

The devotees stood in rows inside the big hall of the garden house to hear the music sung by the professional singers. The floor of the room was covered with a carpet over which was spread a white sheet; a few bolsters, pillows, and cushions lay here and there.

Krishna and Gopis at Vrindāvan

The musicians were singing of the episodes in the life of Sri Krishna especially associated with His divine love for the gopis of Vrindāvan. This was a theme which always appealed to the Master and would throw him into ecstatic moods.

Krishna, God Incarnate, lived the years of His boyhood in Vrindāvan as a cowherd. He tended His cows on the green meadows along the bank of the Jamuna and played His flute. The milkmaids could not resist the force of His divine attraction.

At the sound of His flute they would leave their household duties and go to the bank of the sacred river. Their love for Krishna destroyed their attachment to worldly things. Neither the threats of their relatives nor the criticism of others could make them desist from seeking the company of Krishna.

In the love of the gopis for Krishna there was not the slightest trace of worldliness. It was the innate attraction of God for pure souls, as of the magnet for iron. The author of the Bhagavata has compared this love to the all-consuming love of a woman for her beloved. Before the on rush of that love all barriers between man and God are swept away. The devotee surrenders himself completely to his Divine Beloved and in the end becomes one with Him.

Radha was the foremost of the gopis, and Krishna’s chief playmate. She felt an indescribable longing for union with Him. A moment’s separation from Krishna would rend her heart and soul.

During many a moonlit night Krishna would dance with Radha and the gopis in the sacred groves of Vrindāvan, and on such occasions the gopis would experience the highest religious ecstasy. At 11, Krishna was called to be the king of Mathura.

He left the gopis, promising them, however, His divine vision whenever they concentrated on Him in their hearts.

For centuries, the lovers of God in 1ndia have been worshipping the Divine by recreating in themselves the yearning of the gopis for Krishna. Many of the folk-songs of India have as their theme this sweet episode of Krishna’s life. Sri Chaitanya revived this phase of Hindu religious life by his spiritual practice and his divine visions.

In his ecstatic music Chaitanya assumed the role of Radha and manifested the longing to be united with Krishna. For a long period Sri Ramakrishna also worshipped God as his beloved Krishna, looking on himself as one of the gopis or as God’s handmaid.

At Surendra’s garden house the kirtan had begun early in the morning. The musicians were singing about the love of Krishna and Radha for each other. The Master was frequently in samādhi. The room was crowded with devotees, among them Bhavanath, Niranjan, Rākhāl , Surendra, Ram, and M., and many members of the Brahmo Samaj. In accordance with the custom, the kirtan had begun with, an introductory song about Gaurānga.

Gaurānga embraces monastic life. He is being consumed with longing for a vision of Krishna. He leaves Navadvip and goes away as a wandering monk to seek out his Beloved. His devotees, unable to bear the pangs of separation, weep bitterly and beg Gaurānga to return.

The musician sang: O Gaur, come back to Nadia! Master’s ecstasy Next the musician sang about the anguish of Radha at her separation from Krishna.

When Sri Ramakrishna heard the song he suddenly stood up. Assuming the mood of Radha, he sang in a voice laden with sorrow, improvising the words: “O friend, either bring my beloved Krishna here or take me to Him.” Thus singing, he completely lost himself in Radha and could not continue the song. He became speechless, his body motionless, his eyes half closed, his mind totally unconscious of the outer world. He was in deep samādhi.

Radha’s anguish at separation from Krishna

After a long time, he regained normal consciousness and said in the same heart-rending voice: “O friend, take me to my beloved Krishna and make me your bondslave. I shall be your handmaid for ever. O friend, it was you who taught me how to love Krishna. O Krishna! O Beloved of my soul!”

The professional musicians continued their song. They took the part of Radha and sang as if she were talking to her friend:

“O friend, I shall not go again to the Jamuna to draw water. Once I beheld my beloved Friend under the kadamba tree. Whenever I pass it I am overwhelmed.”

The Master again became abstracted. Heaving a deep sigh he said, “Ah me! Ah me!”

The song went on. Radha says:

Even the desire for Krishna’s presence Has cooled and refreshed my feverish body.

Now and then, the musicians improvised lines to the music, continuing in the attitude of Radha: “O friends, you can wait. Show me Krishna, my Beloved.”

“Do not bother about my ornaments. I have lost my most precious Ornament.” “Alas! I have fallen on evil days. My happy days are over.” And finally: “This unhappy time lingers so long!”

Sri Ramakrishna improvised a line himself:

“Are not better times yet in sight for me?” The musicians then improvised: “Such a long time has passed! Are not better times yet in sight for me?”

The musicians sang Radha’s words to a friend:

O friend, I am dying! Surely I die. The anguish of being kept apart From Krishna is more than I can bear.

Alas! to whom then shall I leave. My priceless Treasure? When I am dead, I beg you, do not burn my body; Do not cast it into the river.

See that it is not given to the flames; Do not cast it into the water. In this body I played with Krishna. Bind my lifeless form, I beg you, To the black tamala’s branches;

Tie it to the tamala tree. Touching tamala it touches black. Krishna is black, and black is tamala; Black is the colour that I love. From earliest childhood I have loved it. To the black Krishna my body belongs; Let it not lie apart from black! Radha reaches her last extremity. She faints away. Radha has fallen to the ground; She lies there lost to outward sense, Repeating her precious Krishna’s name,

And straightway doses both her eyes. Ah, has the drama reached its end?

What ails you, O delight of Krishna? Only a moment ago you spoke. Her friends, anointing Radha’s form With cool and soothing sandal-paste, Attempt to bring her back to earth. Some of them weep in bitter grief; They cannot bear to see her die. Some sprinkle water on her face; Perhaps she will revive again! But, oh, can water give back life To one who dies of Krishna’s love?

Radha’s friends chant Krishna’s sweet name in her ears. This brings her back to partial consciousness. She looks at the black tamala tree and thinks that Krishna stands before her.

Krishna’s name restores her life; Once more her two eyes gaze around, But Krishna’s face she cannot see. Alas, how bitterly she weeps! “Where is my Krishna? Where is He Whose name you chanted in my ears? Bring Him but once before me here!” Seeing the black tamala tree, She stares at it and cries aloud: “There is His crest! I see it clearly! There is my “Krishna’s lovely crest!” But only a peacock did she see,

Whose glistening feathers she mistook For the gay feather on Krishna’s crest.

Krishna has gone to Mathura to assume His royal duties. He has discarded His cowherd’s dress and flute and put on the royal regalia. Radha’s friends, after a hurried consultation, send a gopi to Mathura as messenger. She meets a woman of that city, of her own age, who asks her where she comes from.

Radha’s friend says: “I don’t have to call Krishna. He Himself will come to me.” But none the less, she follows the woman of Mathura and goes to Krishna’s palace. In the street she weeps overcome with grief, and prays to Krishna: “O Hari, where are You? O Life of the gopis! O Enchanter of our hearts! O Beloved of Radha! O Hari, Remover of Your devotees’ shame! Come to us once more! With great pride I said to the people of

Mathura that You Yourself would come to me. Please do not humiliate me.”

In scorn says the woman of Mathura:

“Oh, you are only a simple milkmaid! How can you go to see our King, Our Krishna, in your beggar’s rags? Behind seven doors His chamber stands. You cannot enter. How can you go? I die of shame to see your boldness. Tell me, how will you manage to enter?”

Says the gopi: “Krishna! Beloved! Soul of the gopis! Oh, where are You? Come to me here and save my life. Where are You, adorable Soul of the gopis? Come to me, Lord of Mathura!

And save the life of Your sorrowing handmaid. Ah, where are You, Beloved of Radha? Lord of our hearts and Friend of our souls! O Hari, Destroyer of our shame! O priceless Treasure of the gopis! Come to Your handmaid and save her honour.”

Thus the messenger weeps and cries out for Krishna.

When the musicians sang, “Where are You, adorable Soul of the gopis?” the Master went into samādhi. As the music neared its end the musicians sang louder. Sri Ramakrishna was on his feet, again in deep samādhi. Regaining partial consciousness, he said in a half articulate voice, “Kitna! Kitna!” He was too much overwhelmed to utter Krishna’s name distinctly.

The kirtan was coming to a close. At the reunion of Radha and Krishna the Master sang with the musicians, composing the lines himself:

Behold, there Radha stands by Krishna; On His bosom she reclines. Behold her standing at His left, Like a golden creeper twining Round a black tamala tree!

As the music came to a close the Master led the chorus. All chanted together, to the accompaniment of drums and cymbals: “Victory to Radha and Krishna! Hallowed be the names of Radha and Krishna!” The devotees felt a surge of divine emotion and danced around the Master. He too danced in an ecstasy of joy. The names of God echoed and reechoed in the house and garden.