After this, they said to each other, “He has abandoned what is good, and embraced what is bad. Deceit suits his mind. Consider, friend! how can we possibly form an association with him.”
On hearing this, one of them said, “Friends! do you remain apart; as we derive no benefit from our own speaking, I will make Krishnù himself speak.” Saying these words, she smiled and enquired from Shree Krishnù,—“O great king! explain to us who is a good man, and who a bad man in the four following instances:—One, who without having done a good action, shall expect good actions from others, (or shall expect to have his non-performance of good actions considered in the light of the performance of them:) a second shall make a return for a good action: a third shall return evil for good: a fourth shall take no thought whatever of any good, that may be done to him.” Shree Krishnù Chund replied, “All of you listen with attention, whilst I explain who is the good, and who the bad man, in the cases mentioned. The best is he who does good without receiving any, as a father loves a son. It is no virtue to return good for good, in the manner that a cow gives milk for the food she receives. Consider as your enemy one who regards good and evil alike. The most ungrateful of all is he who forgets good done to him.”
When the cowherdesses, on hearing these words and looking at each other, began to laugh, Shree Krishnù Chund was frightened, and said, “I am not to be reckoned amongst any of these four kinds of persons, which you seem to think by your laughing; moreover, it is my custom to grant the accomplishment of any wish or desire a person may ask from me. Perhaps you will say, if this is your practice, why did you abandon us in the jungle? The reason was, that I made trial of your affection. Do not think ill of me for this, but believe what I say.”
After this, he again said, “I have now tried you: remember and meditate upon me. You have increased your affection for me, who am like a poor man that has obtained wealth. You have met my wishes in every respect; and in doing so, have foregone the reproach of the world, and the Vedas; just as a religious devotee, who abandons his home, and entertains a love for Huri with sincerity of mind. If I should live for a hundred years of Bruhmú, I should never be quit of my debt to you.”
CHAPTER XXXIV.
Shree Shookdeo, the sage, said,—Raja! when Shree Krishnù Chund had spoken in this agreeable manner, all the cowherdesses, laying aside their anger, and being greatly rejoiced, arose, and having united with Huri, began to indulge in every kind of pleasure, delight and pastime; when Krishnù had recourse to his deceptive power, and divided his body into numberless particles, desiring to give pleasure to them all; and engaging in their sports with the greatest affection, Shree Krishnù Chund, having assumed as many bodies as there were cowherdesses, took them all with him to the circular terrace, where he had before gone; and again began engaging in festive dances and songs.
The cowherdesses, in pairs, joined their hands, and Huri was in the midst of them. Each thought he was at their side, and did not recognize him near any one else. They placed their fingers within his fingers, and whirled about with the greatest enjoyment, taking Huri with them. The son of Nund in the midst of the cowherdesses was like thick masses of clouds, surrounded on all sides by lightning. The dark-blue Krishnù amongst the fair women of Bruj was like a sapphire on a necklace of gold.
O great king! standing thus together, the cowherdesses and Krishnù began to tune various kinds of musical instruments, preluding difficult airs, and played and sang, producing great varieties of tone, and singing whilst they danced. And so delighted were they, that they seemed to lose all recollection of their very existence. Sometimes the breast of one was uncovered, and the diadem of another slipped off. At one place, the pearl necklaces of some were broken, and the pearls fell on the ground: at another, garlands of flowers were strewed about. The drops of perspiration on their foreheads glittered like strings of pearls; and the ringlets of the cowherdesses were spread in such a loose and dishevelled manner over their faces, that they resembled young snakes, who had flown up, and then become fastened to the moon, from an eager desire to obtain the water of life.
Sometimes a cowherdess, singing in high tones, accompanied Krishnù’s flute: and sometimes one of them sang without accompaniment. And when any one of them, having stopped Krishnu’s flute, poured forth the same notes from her own voice, he was as much fascinated as a child on beholding its own image in a mirror.
Thus singing and dancing, and practising all kinds of coquetry and ogling, they passed the hours in mutual enjoyment, and being pleased with each other, they laughed and embraced and made a propitiatory offering of their dresses and ornaments. At that time, Bruhmù, Roodrù, Indrù and all the gods and celestial musicians, seated in their chariots with their wives, looked down upon the festivities, and showered down flowers with delight. And the wives, gazing on this scene of pleasure with eager desire, thought to themselves, that if they could be born in Bruj, they also might join in festivities with Huri. And to such a pitch were the musical notes and tones carried, that on hearing them, the air was stilled, and water ceased to flow; and the moon, together with the whole of the stars, was astonished, and poured down the water of life from its rays. The night was prolonged so that six months passed away, whence that night was named, Bruhmù’s night.