It was said by the wise of lore that silence is the language of God and that everything else represents but a poor translation. At the same time, the concept of absolute silence is one of the most ludicrous ideas we could ever imagine. When one thing stops speaking, another begins. And when we become silent, it’s ideally only to qualify ourselves for further hearing—and the greater the silence, the greater the hearing, and the greater the message that is about to be revealed.
Let’s turn to what may be the most resounding moment of silence in the Gauḍīyā tradition, and let’s consider its ontological backdrop and far-reaching implications. For this we will need to go south,“to go down.” Generally, those who want to go up must first, in the words of Richard Rohr, “fall upward.” Before making a quantum leap to the northern peaks of Vraja līlā, let’s first go south—let’s go to Godāvarī.
While Godāvarī is one of southern Bhārata’s many sacred portals, the word “Godāvarī” indicates much more than just another Earthly holy place. Its inherent sacredness and significance are actually deeply embedded in each of its syllables. On one level, Godāvarī may refer to one of the main sources (vari) of giving (da) water (go). However, because the syllable go can also indicate the Vedas, Godāvarī ultimately points to that place where the highest conception (vari) of the śruti (go) is released (da). It’s here at Godāvarī that we can find the most comprehensive understanding of the Vedas and its corresponding conclusion: Gauḍīyā Vedānta.
This Godāvarī was the chosen stage for one of the Gauḍīyā sampradāya’s most crucial moments, when the very essence of its narrative presented itself in the context of a saṁvāda between Rāya Rāmānanda and Śrīman Gaurasundara. A saṁvāda, one of the four classical methods of Vedic communication, is a lively dialogue on a particular topic found in sacred texts such as the Upaniṣads, Gītā, and Bhāgavata, Gaura līlā’s not being an exception.
Thus popularly known as the Rāmānanda-saṁvāda, this particular meeting was unique: a brāhmaṇa sannyāsī (Śrī Caitanya) broke with social convention, surprisingly inquiring from a śūdrā viceroy (Rāmānanda) about sādhya-sādhana-tattva, the highest possible attainment and its respective praxis, all of this on the basis of scriptural thesis. This so-called śūdrā was actually Viśākhā-devī in the role of an aprākṛta-sahajiyā (a supramundane bhakta of spontaneous nature).[1] This so-called sannyāsī was Śrī Kṛṣṇa in the role of Śrī Rādhā, inquiring from one of Rādhā’s dearest friends about how to properly culture her bhāva, a culture that began at this time and that would eventually become more and more systematic in Jagannātha Purī’s Gambhīrā. Rāmānanda is thus considered to be one of Mahāprabhu’s gurus. Rāmānanda gave Gaura Kṛṣṇa practical/realized knowledge (vijñāna) about Rādhā tattva, which he knew only in theory (jñāna), being fully conversant only with Kṛṣṇa tattva. Kṛṣṇa is the absolute viṣaya (object) of bhakti, but he is unaware of the experience of Śrī Rādhā as the āśraya (vessel) of prema. His pursuit of this experience as Śrī Caitanya is the heart of the Gaura avatārī.
After hearing Rāmānanda’s robust and systematic presentation of theological possibilities (starting from varṇāśrama sensibilities and going through diverse nuances of devotional expression, eventually converging into the depths of Vraja prema), Gaurasundara abruptly shut his mouth during the height of his speech. The resulting silence spoke louder than a million mouths, with both of them entering into what Śrī Gopāla-campū defines as “a state of the highest communication where nothing needs to be said.”[2] What was about to be said at that point, and what were the ultimate reasons behind such ecstatic mutism? The timeline goes as follows.
After rejecting Rāmānanda’s first four proposals by considering them superficial in relation to his cherished ideal, Śrī Caitanya implored Rāma Rāya to augment those truths, eventually bringing the conversation to the shores of the rapturous bhakti-rasāmṛta-sindhu and the many valuable jewels to be discovered therein. Śrī Caitanya, being exclusively interested in one of those particular gems, passionately asked for more, even when Rāmānanda had seemingly reached the utmost limit of his presentation in the form of a generic description of mādhurya-rasa. This apparent limit may indeed be the conceptual end for many of us. But for someone like Gaura, it was just the introduction to the real thing. He said, “Speak more if there is more.” And indeed, there was.
Until that day, nobody had asked Rāmānanda to go further (nor had anyone in religious history asked for more). Rāmānanda continued, sharing the specifics of Rādhā’s unmatched glories and engagement in loving affairs. Next, after giving some tattva to further ground his emotional points, Rāma Rāya, feeling himself to be a dancing puppet in Gaura’s hands, described how Rādhā and Kṛṣṇa enjoy their mutual loving exchanges. By Gaura’s insistence, this divine viceroy mentioned that there was one final topic still to be presented. But he told Mahāprabhu, “I do not know whether you will be happy with it or not.”[3] This topic is known as prema-vilāsa-vivarta.
Vilāsa-vivarta refers to Rādhā and Kṛṣṇa’s identifying with one another even to the point of “melting” their minds and hearts into one another’s with only the bliss of their union remaining. Thus, in this vivarta (which also means “bewildered condition”), both of them forget their own identities, becoming fully immersed in seeing themselves as one another. For such an elevated subject, Rāmānanda was unable to provide any classical śāstra-pramāṇa (since the topic was way above the reach of the standard revealed texts). He had to compose some poetry of his own, being the rasika Vaiṣṇava that he was. Thus, Śrī Rāya sang to Gaura his sweetest song, in which Śrī Rādhā’s separation from Kṛṣṇa in adhirūḍha mahābhāva is beautifully portrayed.[4]It was right after these very words that Rāmānanda’s silence began to speak for itself. Being ecstatically concerned and embarrassed, Gaura had to shut his teacher’s mouth, thus confirming that Śrī Rādhā’s adhirūḍha mahābhāva is the apex of every conceivable (and inconceivable) goal.
Of course, this frenzied interruption contained many different levels of significance. On the most immediate level, Gaura shut Rāmānanda’s mouth because this topic was already too confidential to be exposed in public. Here we find a very high degree of symbolism, with Mahāprabhu’s promoting caution regarding esoteric content in the presence of unprepared audiences. In this regard, Śrī Sarasvatī Ṭhākura has explained this divine silence, stating that for the prākṛta-sahajiyā sector of mundane imitationists, it is impossible to follow the concept of vilāsa-vivarta, or inverted roles in līlā (where Kṛṣṇa adopts the position of Rādhā in the context of loving intimacy and vice versa), and that is why Mahāprabhu stopped Rāmānanda.
Before having his mouth shut, Rāmānanda was able to share some revealed support that further depicts this condition:
Vṛndā-devī said: O king of mad elephants (Kṛṣṇa), who dallies in Govardhana’s love bowers! There is an accomplished artist of the name Śṛṅgāra-rasa (Kāmadeva), and upon the fire generated from the heat of the emotions coming from both you and Rādhā, he has slowly melted the shellac-like hearts of you both, and made them one. Then mixing that with profuse quantities of the kuṇkuma of your ever-fresh driving love, he is painting an astonishing picture upon the inner walls of the grand temple of the universe.[5]
In this astonishing profusion of prema, absorption in oneness reaches its highest stage. Rādhā’s knowledge that she is the nāyikā (heroine) and that Kṛṣṇa is the nāyaka (hero) becomes covered. In divine delusion, the roles are reversed, with Rādhā mistakenly considering herself to be the hero and Śrī Kṛṣṇa thinking himself to be the heroine. Therefore, we could say that to prevent such secrets from being spoken out loud, Mahāprabhu covered Rāma Rāya’s mouth. And while this explanation may justifiably be given as the ultimate reason for Rāmānanda’s silence, there is still more to be said.
Before presenting his ultimate conception, Rāma Rāya told Gaura that he was not sure whether his words would make him happy. One possible reading of this statement is that Rāmānanda’s final words revealed and established Śrī Gaurāṅga (and the prema for him) as the definitive sādhya to be attained while giving the inner reasons for his descent. While in Kṛṣṇa līlā we find Rādhā and Kṛṣṇa forgetful of themselves but aware of each other (thus still being two), in Gaura līlā the dyad of Rādhā and Kṛṣṇa becomes one in the form of Śrī Gaurāṅga, thus providing a permanent solution for this most astonishing psychological quandary in the life of the Absolute.[6]
How does this solution work? When Rādhā and Kṛṣṇa seek to become one in love, their union becomes so strong that Rādhā feels herself to be Kṛṣṇa, and vice versa—Rādhā’s heart becomes Kṛṣṇa’s, and Kṛṣṇa’s heart becomes Rādhā’s. Thus they exchange hearts in order to become one, but they still remain two. As close as they try to become, the duality of the two remains. In this section of the Rāmānanda-saṁvāda, we find the ultimate solution for this dilemma finally appearing in the form of Mahāprabhu, where the two become one.[7]
The final union of this dynamic duo is introduced by Kṛṣṇadāsa Kavirāja in the theological zenith of Caitanya-caritāmṛta’s maṅgalācaraṇa.[8] There he invokes the term praṇaya, which speaks about love in a general sense but also about a very unique type of love in the context of bhakti-rasa. In the latter case, Rādhā and Kṛṣṇa consider each other’s existence, bodily functions, and belongings to be the same, total self-forgetfulness being its main symptom.
The word praṇaya here refers specifically to the praṇaya found within mādanākhya-mahābhāva—the most intense form of loving identification between Rādhā and Kṛṣṇa. It denotes Śrī Rādhā’s total immersion in love for Kṛṣṇa, wherein she becomes entirely one with him in affection. As the very embodiment of mahābhāva—mahābhāva-svarūpiṇī—only she can fully taste the utmost limit of divine love. She is the original source of love for Kṛṣṇa. Therefore, the phrase rādhā kṛṣṇa-praṇaya-vikṛtir in this maṅgala-verse reveals that Śrī Rādhā is the transformation of Kṛṣṇa’s love for Himself—Kṛṣṇa turned into his own love.
In that precise moment when Rāmānanda paralleled this maṅgala verse by singing a poem to Gaura where Rādhā expresses this unique type of praṇaya, Gaura covered Rāmā Rāya’s mouth. Immediately after this, Rāmānanda had the darśana of Rādhā and Kṛṣṇa as one in the person of Gaura. In no uncertain terms, this epiphany—Mahāprabhu’s afterthought—only served to further confirm Rāmānanda’s intuitive poetry.
Thus, if we agree that Gaura līlā also constitutes our ultimate eternal goal (in addition to Kṛṣṇa līlā), how can we place less emphasis on one of those two ultimate realms despite their both being eternal and non-dual? Although from an abheda perspective there may be only one goal in life (Kṛṣṇa prema), from the bheda perspective there will be two goals in life (Kṛṣṇa prema and Gaura prema). And although we may surely enter into the details of our post-liberated life in Kṛṣṇa līlā, it is important to do the same in connection to Gaura līlā—and to the same degree or even more due to the reasons described above. Stalwarts such as Pūjyapāda B. R. Śrīdhara Deva Goswāmī have followed this line of thought, saying, “This [Rāmānanda’s] song leads to Kṛṣṇa, and it gives a hint of the avatāra of Mahāprabhu… That is considered to be the highest attainment.”[9]While this conclusion doesn’t try to present itself as an absolute statement to be accepted by all, the proper exercise of theology in the context of siddhānta can give rise to suitable emotions and support for this idea.
In summary, today’s journey began in Godāvarī, where the highest conception (vari) of the Vedas (go) was revealed (da). The word go can also refer to indriya (senses), from which we derive the word “Govinda.” Govinda is he who bestows our senses’ fullest engagement and highest purpose, which were announced here at Godāvarī through the inquiry of Gaura Govinda: Gaura asked Rāmānanda Rāya about the highest goal of life, and Rāma Rāya’s ultimate proclamation was that Śrīman Mahāprabhu is the ultimate form of divinity and that love for him constitutes the topmost eternal attainment.
According to Śrī Caitanya-caritāmṛta,[10] it was Gaura himself who actually spoke these truths indirectly, through the mouth of Rāmānanda! And Rāmānanda was Gaura’s very first associate to officially identify him as Govinda (gau) and Rādhā (ra) united as one. Mahāprabhu confirmed this truth—mahāprabhu śrī-caitanya, rādhā-kṛṣṇa nahe anya—by revealing his darśana as Rādhā-Kṛṣṇa combined. To discuss these insights is rūpānuga janera jīvana—the life and soul of each and every Rūpānuga Vaiṣṇava.
This combination of Rādhā and Kṛṣṇa arose from Śrī Kṛṣṇa’s deepest question: What is Rādhā’s sensory experience? Gaura was the answer. While often viewed merely as a gateway to Kṛṣṇa līlā, Gaura līlā in fact lies at its very heart—an organic outgrowth of Kṛṣṇa’s own deepest introspection. It is not separate from but the natural unfolding of Kṛṣṇa līlā, emerging from His most intimate contemplations.
As Gaura’s līlā unfolded, this inner culture became more and more overt and systematic in his life. But actually, such introspection was already there from the very beginning, expressing itself progressively in both indirect and direct terms. First, in Nadīyā, he laid the foundation for the temple of prema by exhibiting his paṇḍita-līlā and its conclusion in the form of jñāna-śūnyā bhakti (which was the very first proposal that Gaura accepted from Rāmānanda’s numerous replies in their saṁvāda). After becoming a Vaiṣṇava, he then accepted sannyāsa and established himself in vipralambha-kṣetra (Purī), the ideal place to relish Rādhā’s separation from Kṛṣṇa. There he listened to bhāgavata-kathā from Gadādhara, being taught by Rādhā herself about the mysteries of her love. Finally (and only after this most important meeting with Rāmānanda), Gaura entered the Gambhīrā. In this way, every section of Gaura līlā could be seen as Mahāprabhu’s attempt to further approach the main purpose of his descent, which could be properly described as “divine synaesthesis.”
In the realm of aesthetics, synaesthesis is defined as “the harmonious combination of differing impulses arising from a work of art.” Such a concept will undoubtedly find its final application in the figure of Śrī Caitanya, the ideal meeting point between Rādhā-Kṛṣṇa’s “differing impulses arising from a work of art.” They solved their deepest dilemma during their most intimate moments in līlā through the figure of Śrī Gaurāṅga, the topmost synthesis of the Absolute. For us and for the Godhead, this attainment —the dynamic union of Rādhā and Kṛṣṇa in the form of Gaura—is the sum and substance of what post-liberated life is all about. Fill your cup till it overflows, and only then will the real story begin!
To be continued.
Endnotes
[1] This is the opinion of Viśvanātha Cakravartī Ṭhākura and Bhaktivinoda Ṭhākura, whereas Kavi-karṇapūra and Kṛṣṇadāsa Kavirāja identify him with Lalitā-sakhī and Subala-sakhā, respectively.
[2] Gopāla-campū 2.21.43
[3] Śrī Caitanya-caritāmṛta 2.8.192.
[4] Śrī Caitanya-caritāmṛta 2.8.194.
[5] Ujjvala-nīlamaṇi 14.155.
[6] Since prema-vilāsa-vivarta speaks of Kṛṣṇa and Rādhā’s exchanging roles, one may rightfully ask about the necessity for Śrī Gaurāṅga (since Kṛṣṇa is already tasting some form of Rādhā bhāva in this prema-vilāsa-vivarta). The answer is that Kṛṣṇa’s experience in prema-vilāsa-vivarta cannot compare with his appearance (and experience) as Gaura in Rādhā bhāva. In prema-vilāsa-vivarta, Kṛṣṇa tastes only one aspect of Rādhā’s mood but not its full range, whereas in Gaura līlā he systematically relishes all the many moods of Rādhā one after the other. And while vilāsa-vivarta has mainly to do with sambhoga (union), Mahāprabhu was focused on tasting Rādhā bhāva mainly from the vantage point of Rādhā’s vipralambha (separation). By seeing her love in separation, Kṛṣṇa desired to experience all that Rādhā is in all circumstances (see Sanātana Goswāmī’s commentary to Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam 10.32.22 in this regard). After tasting this, he mainly experienced sambhoga at the end of his Purī līlā, this being represented in Śikṣāṣṭakam’s eighth verse.
[7] The unity that Śrī Gaurāṅga embodies is not a physical/literal merging between Kṛṣṇa and Rādhā (since Rādhā is still there in Gaura līlā in the form of Gadādhara) but a dynamic union where Kṛṣṇa is still himself but “at the same time Rādhā.” That is, he appears as Mahāprabhu with the luster and mood of Rādhā.
[8] Śrī Caitanya-caritāmṛta 1.1.5.
[9] B. R. Śrīdhara Deva Goswāmī, Encounters with Divinity (Gosai Publishers, 2005), 199.
[10] Śrī Caitanya-caritāmṛta 2.8.264–265.
