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The ideal wife delights in spending time with her beloved—be it at home, garden, or sacred journey.
A slight glance at another woman provokes jealousy—leading her into grief and self-blame.
The aged, poor woman boasts loudly when a suitor shows interest—like basking in evening sun during winter.
When the husband turns away in sleep, she feels it as separation. His temple visit feels like foreign travel.
Overflowing love makes the wife follow her husband’s every step—like a shadow inseparably trailing him.
When a beautiful woman clings in embrace, it satisfies all desire—making even divine nectar’s pursuit seem futile. Hence the truly detached among the ...
Come quickly to my wine cup, dear moon! Before my sharp teeth blot you out—fearing Rohiṇī’s wrath, you won’t rise to the sky anyway. A humorous, flirt...
O mighty-armed one, fear not! Calamities, like winds, come and go swiftly—nothing remains forever.
Even a crow comforts a grieving traveler—but you, born of nectar, burn me. What irony! The beloved is more hurtful than strangers.
First offer kind counsel to an erring man—but strike only when he deviates persistently. Strategic correction through compassion and discipline.
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