With love, Jai Shri Hari.
Now listen to a pleasant revelation, for which one must have a normal mindset to delight in.
Vinyast venumadhre vivrastdeeyan
Vyagragra manglibhirantrayan viramya.
Gayan kalan shikhi-shikhand-kritavatanso
Madhye gavan vijayte vichran Mukund.
Look at the coincidence that when I write to you, the shloka of flute-play props up instinctively. Shri Bilav Mangal Maharaj says,' The one whose flute drinks the nectar from his lips and whose playful fingers flit across the flute, modulating his voice in eternal melodies; the very same Vrindavan Vihari Mukund is triumphant, wearing a diadem adorned with a peacock tail's feather resplendent on his handsome forehead as he splendidly stands amidst cows. You must be thrilled now because what more can you ask for? (Vijay stands for triumph)
There is no equivalent to this celebration of Krishna's love. Even Brahma ananda (union of the individual soul with the divine) is pale in comparison and the rasas (emotions) stand no chance. May the virtuous Shyam Sundar frolicking in the verdant groves make you the recipient of his love, giving a clear conception of his loving tenderness. No greater joy can delight Bobo as it turns you rapturous in any case.
Now coming back to the flute-play. What will you gift me for moving in a delicious anguish to Lord Krishna's side as you read on? So with the envied instrument in his hands, surrounded by cows, NandNandan roams. A majestic site; probably he is venturing to graze them. The cows eagerly desirous for the mellifluous flute break open their ropes at night drawn by its notes. Whereas at this moment the melody is easily obtainable for them. But the cows are completely unaware that appeasing their loving fondness with this raga, Rasik Shekhar (title of Krishna) actually returns the message of ardent longing to his beloved maidens.
I remember a certain divine play, celebrating Krishna as the quintessential romantic hero. Once Krishna played the flute on some festival; all the gopas and gopis had gathered at the banks of the Yamuna. Wandering around for a short while, NandNandan breathed music into the bamboo flute-and it resonated. But strangely enough the herd of gopas were absorbed in the same fusions of delight and desire today, contrary to the gopis who remained in their senses. The cowherdesses merely smiled but all cowherds...children...youths..
The group was contemplating upon Narayana-and the myth exploded. They could acquire such great love only imagining themselves as women, which the fortunate beauties are constantly steeped in. But the lot certainly did not have the right to enter the paradise of Vishnu for a beatific vision of him since the preferred gender in religious experience in the Hindu tradition is invariably the female. Just a longing arose and this was enough.
After some time when Nandnandan brought them back to their senses, the herd awoke but the rasa or heights of elation had passed into oblivion. However the semblance of a particular madhurta or sweetness was enrapturing them even now.
Hence brother Vijay, miraculous is this flute and strikingly fascinating is Lord Krishna, the flute-player.