Some wanted to hear of his herding
the cows in his youth. One shameless girl called out, "If you do not
sing such and such a passage I will not listen." One mere child, by
way of teaching the _Boisnavi_, sang some nonsensical syllables. The
_Boisnavi_, listening to the different demands, gave a momentary
glance at Kunda, saying: "Have you no commands to give?"
Kunda, ashamed, bent her head smiling, but did not speak aloud; she
whispered in the ear of a companion, "Mention some hymn."
The companion said, "Kunda desires that you will sing a hymn." The
_Boisnavi_ then began a hymn. Kunda, seeing that the _Boisnavi_ had
neglected all other commands to obey hers, was much abashed. Haridasi,
striking gently on her tambourine as if in sport, recited in a gentle
voice some few notes like the murmuring of a bee in early spring, or a
bashful bride's first loving speech to her husband. Then suddenly she
produced from that insignificant tambourine, as though with the
fingers of a powerful musician, sounds like the crashing of the clouds
in thunder, making the frames of her hearers shrink within them as she
sang in tones more melodious than those of the _Apsharas_ (celestial
singing women).
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