Prabodhananda continues with his description of Vrindavan’s natural beauty:
hari-premāmbhodheḥ madhura-madhuraṁ dvīpa-valayam |
munīndrāṇāṁ vṛndaiḥ kalita-rasa-vṛndāvanam aho
tad etad dehāntāvadhi samadhivāsaṁ diśatu me ||
O Vrindavan, you who are the spotless incomparable essence of the great ocean of love, you who are the archipelago of great sweetness in the ocean of love for Lord Krishna, you in whom the greatest of sages envisioned the topmost flavors of love, please bestow upon me residence here until the very end of this life. (1.17)
divyodyat-phala-puṣpa-bāṭikam anantāścarya-vallī-drumam |
divyānanta-patan-mṛgaṁ vana-bhuvāṁ śobhābhir atyadbhutaṁ
divyāneka-nikuñja-mañjulataraṁ dhyāyāmi vṛndāvanam ||
I meditate on Vrindavan, which has divine waters filling its millions of lakes, wells and reservoirs, with amazing gardens of trees and vines filled with fruits and flowers, an infinite number of birds and beasts fill these forest lands with wondrous beauty, with so many divine bowers and groves beautifying it in every direction. (1.18)
puñjair vṛta-druma-latā-ghana-ratna-bhūmi |
ānanda-matta-mṛga-pakṣī-kulākulaṁ śrī-
vṛndāvanaṁ harati kasya haṭhān na cetaḥ ||
Whose mind will this beautiful land of Vrindavan not steal away, its jeweled terrain covered with thick foliage from the trees and vines throughout the many, many thickets where Radha and Madanamohana play, where the birds and beasts are intoxicated with joy? (1.19)
I heard that when the Muslim marauders came eastwards conquering India, they thought they had reached paradise when they came to Bengal, because for the first time they reached a place that was really lush and verdant. The Quranic paradise is described in terms of plentiful water, flowers and fruit filled trees.
Perhaps Vrindavan never was and never could be the luxuriant and bounteous place that the Vaishnava poets described, either after seeing or imagining, but certainly chopping down trees willy nilly is a recipe for desertification. This is well known. The only way to stave off making Vrindavan into a barren, parched wasteland is to preserve and expand its greenery.
An African proverb says when an old person dies, a library burns to the ground with him. What is lost when an old tree is chopped down? What reservoirs of ground water, what wealth of shade for weary walkers in the hot season? What witness, on the parikrama marga in Vrindavan, of countless bhaktas singing or muttering Radha and Krishna's names?
Grow more trees and don't chop the old ones down.
Declare all areas of Vrindavan that are still wooded protected areas that cannot be developed. Stop all constructed of multistorey buildings in the Vrindavan precincts. And of course, no more roads.
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