The Silence of Radha, the Soliloquy of Krishna

Malashri Lal  reviews Listen Radhika by Madhav Kaushik (Translated by Seema Jain)

Madhav Kaushik’s long poem, Suno Radhika, translated by Seema Jain as Listen Radhika, answers a question that has bothered me for long. What happened to Radha after Krishna abandoned his pastoral idyll in Vrindavan and adopted his kingly duties in Dwarka? In the process, he married eight primary wives, Rukmini the principal one and Satyabhama the second. In addition, he acquired 16,108 wives rescued from Narakasura, and provided  them with the dignity and social status they deserved. Krishna never returned to Vrindavan, and beyond Uddav’s visit recoded as “Bramar Geet” to tell the gopis that they should not expect the Lord’s  visit, there is no connect with Krishna, the King. From classical sources we learn  nothing about Radha’s life beyond the wonderous tale told in Jayadev’s  Geeta Govinda and other texts. 

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Listen Radhika is remarkable for filling this gap, this curiosity. Here, Krishna recounts to Radha his experience of Kingship and courtly life, the Mahabharata war, the complex philosophy prevailing in the larger world. It is the voice of a disillusioned person speaking to a confidante, a humanised divine being who has immense power but watches the senseless brutality of earthly vanity. The subjects covered are several: the pretentions of the court, palace ambitions and jealousies, greed for land and power, the subjugation of women, the burden of leadership, the Mahabharata war and his role as a charioteer of Arjun, the civilizational   tragedy in which there are no victors. Most poignantly Krishna tells Radha how much he missed the simplicity of the cowherds’ life, the innocent dalliance with the gopis, the simple parental home, and his closest bond with Radha in which erotica, companionship  and spirituality are inseparable.

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The poem, being a long monologue in five cantos, is powerful in detailing each of these themes—and for that reason, has a timeless quality in depicting human vanity across the ages, right up to our times. Credit for the mellifluous translation goes to bilingual poet Seema Jain who enters the mind of Lord Krishna and devoutly attributes to  him the language of the poem. The task of translation is almost that of transcreation—and when a God speaks, there could have been hesitation in rendering the Hindi into English, a language far from the sacred geography of Braj Bhoomi. Admirably, Seema Jain’s sure footed lines tread the middle path of faithfulness to Madhav Kaushik’s original, and the expectations of her cosmopolitan reader in English. 

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As samples let me speak of the theme of woman’s subjugation which touches my interests the most. About society Krishna says;

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It assigned to her

An infernal existence

The fate of being a pleasure tool

That too not without bondage,

Slavery, rigorous and merciless  (49)

 

Link this to the account of 16,108 wives imprisoned by a demon, and unable to return to their royal parental homes due to the assumed impurity of living under a man’s roof—and Madhav Kaushik’s lines stand illustrated. In the context of  Draupadi’s cheer haran episode which is described with deep sensitivity, Krishna reminisces, “I saved only her honour that day… but her questions till today /remain unanswered” and the vile scene unfolds once more (43). Madhav Kauskik through Krishna’s words is convinced that Draupadi is “peerless and incomparable/ in the entire history of womankind” (77) because she challenged “the monopoly of man” (78), resisted “injustice, exploitation, inertia” (79). These words hold true even today which is why so much has been reconstructed in Draupadi’s voice by poets and novelists.  Listen Radha bridges the gap from the past to the present, from the pastoral to the parliament, from the individual suffering woman to the collective sisterhood that fights back patriarchy today.     

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Another theme of interest is social hierarchies, the simple equality in Vrindavan versus the regal stratifications that hold away Sudama from meeting his childhood friend unless there is scrutiny and screening. This is the democratic thinking of the author who transfers contemporary political debates to Krishna’s self-confessions to Radha:

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The very meaning of society is that all are equal

None big or small, high or low, lesser or nobler,

Slave or master, weak or mighty (82)

 

The Lord also knows that such ideals do not exist—or else why does the Mahabharata war get replicated in some form or other throughout the yugas? It is pertinent that in the poem, Krishna speaks to Radha as an equal thinker though she has never stepped into the larger world. She didn’t see his virat roopa in the battle field but she participated in another  similar miracle, the maharaas. Poignantly Krishna says, “Radhika believe me/Even though I live with them…/ I do not belong to them” (33). Believers in Vrindavan will tell you that the gardens of Nidhi Van reverberate to the raasleela every night even today, and no living being should witness it, hence the gates are locked. Participants in  the miracle are the Kadamba trees whose branches tip towards the ground in supplication-- an unusual phenomenon in Nature--the bells in the nearby temples do not ring early as the God and his playmates  are resting.

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Therefore, Krishna is a protagonist outside time.  This book has imaginatively portrayed a wistful God speaking to his beloved in quiet reminiscences, unburdening the weight he carries of knowledge of the egotistical, warring world with all its injustices. A remarkable achievement Madhav ji, and a wonderful translation, Seema Jain, that takes this famous poem to a larger readership in English. Radhika listens—but not a word from her. Does she have her story to tell in another poem—of dealing with a husband, mother-in-law, a censorious society, of ageing?  Those are wars that women fight quietly. The Blue God is a good listener too, and I will await a book called “Listen Krishna”.