69. || ODE ||

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To the Lord of the Universe and the Lord of my heart!
The wielder of the discus, the custodian of multiverse!
O Madhava, Achyuta, Keshava; Your names are infinite and so is your allure!
Happy Birthday, Bhuvanasundara!
Every poem of mine is dedicated to you in your beloved, Sri Radhika's voice.
Here's one in mine!

Hold my hands, dear friend!
Bring me back to the world of mortals
Even though it aches
To be in this cobweb of Illusions
It aches more when He leaves me thirsty.

Hold my hand, Sakhi!
For I am becoming
A Radha in love.

This body of mine
Isn't mine anymore.
With it He has stolen my heart
That man, dark hued, the handsomest of them all
He, the thief in His own divine play
The wielder of the flute
The wearer of peacock feathers;
He came and stole away
Leaving me disoriented
Like a wisp of smoke.

Or am I just becoming
A Radha in love?

These feet that once ambled about
Wherever they wished
Why do, now, they only seek
Him and His abode?
These eyes that once
Were the envy of all girls
Now only wish to savour
His sight
That man
The one who calls Himself Krishna
The one whom I call Manmohana
The enchanter
Of my mind.

Maybe I am just becoming
A Radha in love.

My dear Radhika!

I wonder how you did it.
He fills me up to the brim
And I am still hungry
My bosom pains like it has been
Pierced.

And then there was you.
Who learnt and taught to love
And to let go.

My dear Radhika,
I can never become a Radha in love.

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