Sandesha Rasaka

SR No.: 002918
Original Sutra Author: N/A
Author: Abdul Rahman, Jinvijay, H C Bhayani
Publisher: Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan
Publication Year: 1945
Total Pages: 282
Language: Sanskrit, English
Classification: Book_Devnagari & Literature
File Size: 17 MB

Page 140

SUMMARY
movingly releases the Pañcama note? Does not the early dawn there become redolent of blooming flowers? But I have come to know that as even in the autumn, my husband does not return home, he is surely a man void of taste (183).
91
Winter (Hemanta).
Thus was spent the lovely autumn rich in fragrance. Still that hardened rogue did not think of home. While I was thus being pierced with Cupid's shafts, I saw the mansions white with frost (184). My whole body was burning with the fire of separation. Twanging the bow, Cupid was arrogantly releasing his arrows. I was lying on the bed distressed. Still that stealer of my heart, that wandering Kāpālika, that rogue, that vandal did not arrive (185). In restless yearning I then glanced at the quarters and lo! Winter with his frost-load had deftly arrived! Now cool water was disliked. All the lotus-petals were removed from beds (186). Servant-maids no more ground camphor or sandal. The rouge was tempered with bees' wax. Saffron that was applied to the body was now devoid of sandal. People took to the Campaka oil mixed with musk (187). Camphor and nutmegs were no longer ground together, nor were areca-nuts perfumed with Ketaki. People gave up sleeping on terraces and ladies slept in cots inside the rooms (188). Aguru was burnt for fumigation. Saffron was applied to the body. Close embrace was now enjoyable. Comparatively the days became very short; but for me, O traveller, was fixed the Brahman's aeon! (189). Wailing through a long sleepless night and lonely in my dwelling, I recited a Vastu (190). O you boor, I spent the long night with lingering sighs. Cherishing your memory, I cannot sleep. Bereft of your touch, my limbs have withered owing to the wintry frost. If you do not come and consol me in this winter, would you then, O blockhead, rogue, sinner, come on receiving my death-news?' (191).
The Cool Season (Śiśira).
That enemy of a winter was thus spent by me with much trouble. The cool season arrived but that cheat of my husband was as ever far off. The hurricane began to blow fiercely in the sky. Being blasted by it, trees shed all their leaves. They stood without flowers, without fruits, without shade, unapproached by birds. The quarters were befogged. Travellers were obstacled,