(Scenes in Brindavan after Krishna left for Mathura...)
Flown off by the evening breeze from south
when her stole got stuck in the hedge,
the nervous pretty Gopi with a start
turns round, 'Is that he to cuddle me from the back?'
Not finding any disappointed was she,
'Is anything left in my life without his prank?'
Another in deep sorrow says,
'I set curd no more, make no butter these days -
why should I? what for, none comes to steal them,
in front of mother Yashoda whom shall I blame?'
Neck-deep in Yamuna waters
the girls in frustration time to time look at the bank
to see their neat clothes still in tact,
hoping against hopes they look up,
'Will he jump out again from his hide-out
to take away their clothes to the tree top?'
Mistaking the rustling of a sudden gusty wind
as the notes calling her name on the flute,
the love-lorn Radha in the middle of night
in search of the magician swiftly runs out...
While churning the pot of curd,
lost in the thoughts of her little monkey
Yashoda with all eagerness waits,
'Will the playful emerge from the back
and close her eyes to confide,
'Maa, any body's pot I did not break,
I didn't steal curd nor anybody's butter I ate.'
Life is lonesome, deserted is Brindavan...
Fleeting were those days, now appear as a dream,
a moment today lingers as a millenium,
the night persists, will there be once again a dawn?
Moment of happiness is a passing cloud
that stays for a while just as a butterfly
but it paints everyone's wings
with lovely colours to feel the 'high'.