Radhika gazes on him: Krishna's lips are so sweet, and when he smiles his teeth shine, and that shine is like camphor. Add a pinch of camphor to sweet rice and it turns exquisite; so the nectar of his lips is made fragrant by the camphor of his smile. All the sweetness of his body and face is gathered here, into that nectar. And now he takes the flute to his lips and blows — and all that gathered sweetness enters the holes of the reed and is transformed into sound. This is the venu-nada: the condensed essence of all his beauty, turned into a song. But why does he need a flute at all? Because the love he carries for Radhika and the gopis of Vraja is inexpressible in words — let him begin to speak of it, and his voice chokes on the very first syllable. And so he pours out his heart another way — as sound. The song travels through the air, enters the ears of the gopis, and Radhika, hearing it, says: it is an ocean of nectar, and it wants to drink the whole of me.