Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam 10.90.18
Blended reading (Sanskrit + English inline)
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mukunda-gaditāni
—
the words spoken by Mukunda
Contiguous compound: mukunda (Kṛṣṇa) + gaditāni (things said). His promised words are the substance of the lover's life. Caitanya-caritāmṛta: 'kṛṣṇera vacane viśvāsa' — faith in His word — is the bedrock of śaraṇāgati.
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vismṛtya
—
having forgotten
Absolutive of vi + √smṛ — to forget. The queen's worst fear: that the moon (and by extension she) has forgotten His promise. Gauḍīyas hold smaraṇa (remembrance) as the sixth limb of bhakti; vismṛti is its inverse.
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indo
—
O moon
Vocative of indu. The moon, beloved of Sanskrit poets and of the gopīs (Kṛṣṇa's face is candra-mukha). Addressing the moon is addressing what reminds the queen most directly of Kṛṣṇa's face.
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yakṣmaṇā
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by consumption
Instrumental of yakṣma — Vedic word for wasting disease. The moon's waning reads as tuberculosis. Bhāgavata-poetics: cosmic phenomena are not separate from rasa; they enter the lover's grammar.
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kṣiṇoṣi
—
you destroy
Second singular of √kṣi. The moon's job is to destroy darkness; failing that, it shows it has forgotten its dharma — like the queen herself, who feels she has forgotten how to live without Him.
"O moon, are you becoming thin and losing power to remove darkness because of tuberculosis? We know that is not the reason. You had forgot those words, clever, profuse promises he made at the beginning of separation. Out of confusion you did not pay attention to them at that time. We see that now your words are choked up out of regret for not remembering those words—since you do not answer our question, and simply cry like the osprey and cakravaki---just as we being separated from him, lament at forgetting his words and remain here silent and shattered."
“Though the animals and ocean are wailing with more and more intensity because of Kṛṣṇa’s absence, why is the moon, full of good qualities, silent?” They state the answer indirectly. O moon! You have a serious case of tuberculosis, since your form of nectar has disappeared. Thus being weak, you cannot dissipate the darkness by your rays, even at full moon. You cannot destroy the darkness like the sun. Just as we have become thin because of separation from Mukunda and are unable to remove the suffering by ourselves, you are also suffering, but even more! Considering for a moment they speak again. Perhaps you have forgotten the promises he made when he went away, because of strong feelings arising from separation. Becoming thin because of not determining if he will come, you cannot destroy the darkness. Thus, like us, we see that you cannot speak since you do not answer. At least the osprey and others wailed in answer.
An example of the moon is given, comparing their pain to the pain of great sickness. Having caught serious tuberculosis, you cannot destroy the darkness. You remain without speaking because of forgetting the words of Mukunda, whose beautiful face reveals teeth like kunda flowers. O moon! Are you like us? Or remembering particularly the words of Mukunda, becoming absorbed in them, being silent and thing, we cannot remove the suffering by the rays of our intelligence. You are like us. Having caught tuberculosis, becoming thin, you cannot remove the darkness. But that is not the cause. It is because of special bhāva for Kṛṣṇa. Or having caught tuberculosis and becoming thin, you cannot remove the sorrow (tamaḥ) of the stars, your wives, by the touch of your hand. Why do you not answer? Forgetting the words of Mukunda, losing power to speak, you are like us.
- What metaphor for my grief have I not yet found that would help me carry it?
- Where could playful imagination of cosmic suffering accompany my own?
The waning moon is consumption-stricken, the queen says — emaciated and unable to dispel the dark — but the real diagnosis is hers: 'You forgot Mukunda's promises too?' Bhagavān's once-spoken word is the only food that keeps the lover alive; forgetting it is the wasting disease.
Purāṇic tradition records that Candra, having favored only Rohiṇī of his twenty-seven wives (Dakṣa's daughters), was cursed by Dakṣa to waste away with consumption (yakṣma) — restored periodically only by Śiva's grace, hence the moon's phases.
The queen's invocation of yakṣma in 90.18 invokes this tale precisely: the moon, like her, suffers for an absent or unfaithful beloved. Gauḍīyas note her tactic — she compares Kṛṣṇa's silence to the moon's wasting, but she does not call Kṛṣṇa unfaithful. The blame is too dear; she shifts it into a question.
My note
Source: vedabase.io