Bird

I spend many a day, singing away in lovely golden cage;

You said I will try, try and fly, when I came of age;

Months passed by, and I would sigh,

Yet the time never came;

When I will glide across the sky,

And join the jolly games.

You loved me, yes, but nevertheless my heart it did fly,

Tearing through the opposing winds, as I swooped across the sky.

With a weary heart I sang to you, I yielded to your love;

After all I was your very own beautiful white dove.

When you did stroke my soft white plumes,

And press me to your cheek,

Silently and painfully, my heart it would go bleak.

You fed me well; your heart would swell,

At the sound of my whistling tune,

I would sleep in comfort every night,

In the warmth of the silvery moon.

One day it grew too much for me,

And I demanded, you set me free.

You opened the door, of the golden cage,

Your pain, I could not see.

With a heavy heart, torn apart, you bade me a sad goodbye,

I froze at the edge of cage, in horror, I could not fly!

Twilight

In the twilight of my life,

When its time to find my way home,

When the harsh light of the day fades,

Into soft darkness.

The sun has abandoned the sky,

And suddenly there is a sense of urgency,

A haste to find shelter.

My steps quicken on the much known path,

I cannot see well, only silhouettes of people,

Progressing forward like dark shadows.

I can only see their faces,

When they are too close for comfort.

The air is torn with the cry of birds,

As they call each other to safety,

The hastened flutter of wings,

Cut though my soul like steely knives,

They cut through my sanity.

They fly in flocks across the sky,

And darkness descends like heavy smoke,

It engulfs all that falls in its path.

I strain my eyes to see ahead,

In the twilight of my life.

Amongst these ghastly faces, I must find you,

I must hear you over this din.

I know not what is ahead of me, my love,

But I give you my word, I will fight

Till the last ray fades,

If only to unite our battered souls,

In the twilight of my life. 

The parking line at the station seemed to stretch endlessly. There he sat fidgeting impatiently and checking his watch. She was coming home today with the babies. The smoke, dust and sweat blurred his thoughts of them. Yet he couldn’t stop thinking.

He could almost feel her hair against his cheek when he would hug her, the soft skin of the babies, he could imagine her smile. He felt somehow that when she would return, everything would magically be alright.

The loud car horn burst through his thoughts. He felt irritation creeping in, then a longing for her. He wished that he could at least call her once but the transmission lines were too weak. He tried not to think about it, it caused a lot of worry.

After locking the car and checking the doors, he tried to orient himself in order to locate the platform.

His heart leaped when the phone rang. He scrambled in his pocket and hurriedly put it to his ears.

“Hi sweetie!”

The voice flooded him with relief, the station seemed to melt away before that voice, “Hi, how are you?”

“I’m fine, I’m almost there. Are you there yet?”

“Yes”, he replied, making his way through entwining lines of people. 

A laugh came through the phone, making him weak with emotion; almost pulling him, hypnotized, to her.

“Did you have your food? How are the babies?”

“Yes, yes to all your questions, I’m a good girl. And yes, the babies are bouncing uncontrollably, can’t wait to see you. I’ve never heard so much of ‘daddy, daddy’ in my life!”

He was straining his ears to hear her over the deafening noise of the stations. “Babies, you will see me shortly, be good and listen to Mommy. Be close to her.”

“Chotto babies, see what daddy is saying. Sweetie, I think we just entered the platform.”

“Yes, I’m nearly there.”

He moved impatiently through the crowded platform, excitement flooding him. How will she manage with all the bags and the babies? He felt worried, “Take care while getting down, and take care of the babies”.

“I will. Listen, I’m leaving the phone now, just wait for a moment.”

He waited, heart throbbing uncontrollably. His look pierced the crowd. Hoards of people passed by, pushing from all sides.

A small face appeared at the carriage door, a small boy holding a fistful of cloth, the cloth of her dress. He tried to make his way to the carriage but the crowd prevented him.

She appeared next, a bag slung across her shoulder; two little girls beside her, holding on to her dress, looking lost and scared and a small baby wrapped in a pink cloth lay asleep in her arms.

His heart leapt as he was moving with increased urgency towards them, joy filling every inch of his body.

Finally he reached the carriage door, they spotted him. The little boy stretched out his small hands towards him and he lifted him and put him down on the ground. The two girls stretched out their hands towards him. He lifted the younger one and put her down. She scrambled towards him and threw her tiny arms around his legs.

When she came down and smiled at him, the whole place disappeared in a flash of light. She took his arm and guided him forward.

Please

Sweet Nandini, come to me. I’m so tired of waiting, I can’t take it anymore. Come to me and free me from these earthly bounds. My heart yearns for you, my souls cries for you. Don’t play games anymore, my child, nighttime approaches, come to me.

                Fill my arms with your precious little body. I crave to hold you. My arms feel empty without you, come and play in my arms. Fill my senses with your demanding cry, I will hold you close, I will keep you safe, nighttime approaches, come to me.

                 My pain is too much for your little head to grasp. I don’t want my pain to touch you, my love. Just know that the pain will end when you come and I will be free. But before I go, I want to hold you and look at you, my angel. I want to kiss those rosy cheeks and hear your sweet cry. The day draws to end, nighttime approaches, come to me.

                Sweet child, when you come, I will be happy after a long time. You don’t know how much I suffer. I know it will all fall away when I look into those crystal clear eyes full of purity and innocence. I know that you know nothing of pain, of suffering or struggle. Yet you know all about love.

I love you my sweetheart. The only reason my heart beats is because I know that one day you will come to me. It’s getting dark, come into my arms. I will keep you warm and safe.

Dear Nandini, you know my plight. I know you are watching and laughing, your laughter as smooth as the peal of little bells.

Nighttime approaches, I beseech you, come to me.

               

               

Pain

Night came slowly, so did the pain. First came denial, but the fight was lost and the pain overtook the mind and paralyzed the body.

 The pain began as a small seed, deep in the middle of the chest and spread like branches, immobilizing everything it touched.

  First it spread all over the chest, constricted the breathing, I gasped for breath. Then it spread downward to the stomach, it pressed down hard, causing a deep ache. It spread to the throat, it burned deeply.

 It was like a large stone bore down on me, pressing down on my lungs, my stomach. I was unable to bear the weight of this gigantic stone.

 I writhed and stretched in pain, it only got worse.

 ‘I can’t take it, it’s hurting too much, I want to die.’

 ‘It hurts too much, I can’t breathe.’

 The pain overtook the limbs and I lay still, speechless and eyes out of focus. Inside my head I was screaming and thrashing. I was begging for death, pleading for mercy.

 The night seemed to stretch endlessly and the pain…the pain was unbelievable, excruciating.  I lay motionless, suffering, unable to even close my eyes, tears wetting my face; as pain tore deeper and deeper into my body.

  A loving hand gently caressed my hair; slowly the hand came down to my face and wiped away the tears. For the first time, my eyes closed and the tension on my face released. I let out a heavy breath.

 The hand gently took my hands and I slowly managed to turn my head and I saw the most beautiful face. The face flooded my body with strange relief. I could breathe again, with difficulty but I could.

 Tears flooded my eyes as I silently complained about my pain. The eyes on that face, the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen, the eyes that make me weak in the knees, the eyes that brought gushes of emotions through me…they seemed to understand my plight.

 I looked helplessly into those eyes. Those caressing hands gathered my torn body and cradled it to a strong chest; soft, smooth and warm.

 The pain dulled, became bearable, very much bearable. The touch of that chest was tranquilizing. When I closed my eyes, my head blanked out and I felt weary and tired. I sank into a state of painless oblivion; a trance; a state of emptiness.

 I sank deep…deep into a warm, comfortable, subconscious.

Escape

  They were everywhere.  Fear had taken over me. Sweat poured in channels all over me. The sound of their words, thoughts were overwhelming. I couldn’t take it anymore. I shut my eyes and ears and ran, just ran, as fast as I could, as far as I could.

  When I was sure that no sound remained, I stopped. Relief swept over my body, I gasped for breath and slowly opened my eyes. Horror struck me, there they were. Silent as death, faces blurred, watching me with cold, blank eyes. I felt my breath leave my body.  I mustered up enough strength again and ran.

  Up ahead I saw an enclosure. I scrambled into it and finally breathed a sigh of relief. I couldn’t see all those apparitions smiling a triumphant smile.

  Alone…I was alone. Finally, that’s what I had wanted…right?

  Now I walk too fast sometimes,

  Sometimes I laugh too loudly,

  I turn up the music volume to a deafening level…just to shut myself out.

  I want to hurt myself

  The burning feeling of pain, I want it…just to distract myself.

  I want to wake up suddenly, in a new place…just to feel fear.

  I struggle every moment, all the time,

  Closed spaces scare me, so do wide open spaces,

  Now there is no escape, I know it…after all how can I escape from myself?

Chotto Bou

  The old house-maids melodramatic wailing could be heard all the way from the road. "Haye haye, meyetake keno nie nilli thakur?", she cried, God, why did you take this girl's life? 

  The old car screeched to a halt in a cloud of exhaust fumes, just in front of the house. Nirmal Babu descended, ashen faced, from the car. He gathered up his dhoti and walked steadily into the house. He had heard the news this morning; it had shocked him to his very core.

  The servants of the house led him to the kitchen. He froze, just in front of the door. 

 Their she lay; Chotto Bou, in her best sari, adorned in her best jewelery, only dead. The old maid wailing away...Nirmal took a few paces forward and fell to his knees.

  It had been precisely two months and twenty two days since their marriage. 

  He recalled the moment she looked up at him, she loved him too much. It was the happiest day for them. That was the day he had stroked her face and called her Chotto Bou. She had melted with joy. 

  Nirmal too fell in love with Chotto Bou but he always felt, she loved him too much. 

  He noticed, she had funny ways. She loved to play with dolls, so he bought her some baby dolls that she played with all the time. She named them, sang to them, put them to sleep, woke them up every morning. Nirmal had to play along and pretend they were their own children. 

  He was taken by her innocence. She would stare at his face, her eyes full of admirations. It made him feel special. She would look forward to his company and would grow sad when he had to leave for work. He would distract her with her dolls and promise her to return soon. They spent many a happy hours.

  Then a peculiar change came upon her. She grew depressed and needy. She wanted his company all the time. She would refuse to let him go. Sometimes she would grow violent when he had to leave. Tears filled her days with sorrow, melancholy hovered around her.

  "You have changed", commented Nirmal, trying to mask his irritation. 

  She would listen in silence and nothing would change. 

  One morning, she wouldn't let go of him. He pushed her away and said, "I cannot give you so much time. I'm trying to accommodate you far as possible, nothing is enough for you. Please don't stretch me any further, I have other things to do."

  She listened quietly, her face clearly showing that she was hurt and, she let go. 

  That evening Nirmal was working in the room downstairs and she came and stood by the door. Nirmal looked up, irritated and asked her what she wanted.

  "Amar kosto hochhe", she said, "I'm in pain".

  "Where is it paining?"

  "Inside".

  "I can't do anything to help you, you are not letting me work."

  He began to ignore her, he stopped coming home. One night she called at the office. "Please come home, I'm missing you, I'm feeling really sad".

  Nirmal replied, "I can't come now, I'll try in the morning."

  "Please, I beg you just for a minute, come home. I want to see you."

  "Its not possible now, please let me go."

  "Listen to me just once."

  "Tell me quickly."

  "Please just come home, I wont be sad anymore."

  "I'm telling you its not possible."

  Her voice broke into a sob."I'm requesting you, please."

  "Even I'm requesting you. If you don't keep my request, why should I keep yours?"

  "Listen, listen..."

  Nirmal had disconnected the phone. 

  That night Nirmal's Chotto Bou dressed in her best sari, wore her finest jewelery and imagined that she was on Nirmals lap. He was stroking her and calling her Chotto Bou. Tears were rolling down her eyes and he was sweetly wiping them away. She closed her eyes and felt at peace. She felt unexplainably  happy, these were tears of joy she thought. 

  When she opened her eyes, she saw Nirmal by the door, calling to her, "Chotto Bou, esho..,come." She followed blindly. She was lead into the kitchen. She smiled at him through her tears as he handed her a knife and smiled back. 

 

  In the morning the servants found her in a pool of blood. They called Nirmal at the office.

  "Abar? Again you called?"

  "Babu...", he heard the news.

  He froze. 

  He knelt beside her, trembling at the sight of the peace on her tortured face.

  

I See

What do I see?

I see people, lots and lots of people walking down the road. 

Sometimes I wonder,

If I could hear what all of them were thinking,

What a din it would be.

So confusing, so random.

I see little children,

In their own world,

Unaware of evil,

What if I were like them?

Would it change the person I am?

I see pretty things in pretty shops,

They will soon be replaced by other pretty things,

Why? Do the former cease to be pretty?

I see and I wonder,

What if this were all a dream?

What if I wake up one day,

And realize, everything is different?

I see and I wonder,

I am so big to an ant,

And so small to the universe.

I am too small to even consider.

What am I?

What is this I see?

Who is playing this game?

Am I the player or am I a game piece?

Something tells me,

The player is Time.

Dreaded Time!

If God is so good, 

Why has he captured us in this web of Time?

Why are we forced to surrender to Time?

I wonder, did the devil create Time?

Is God fighting against it too?

Is He caught in this web too?

I am alone?

Aren't I?

Aren't I...?

We can't conquer Time,

Can we?

Play

Nandini, come to me. Why are staying away? My heart cries for you. I yearn for you in my arms. ..

Yashoda just couldn't run anymore. After all, she had noticed a few grey hairs the other day. Krishna's games were taking a toll on her.

"Krishna, please come out wherever you are. I'm exhausted", she cried in exasperation.

There was no sound, no stir in the leaves, no sound of little bells, no peals of laughter. Yashoda slumped down under a tree to catch her breath. Her chest heaved as she closed her eyes and rested her head on the trunk of the huge banyan tree.

That morning Yashoda  had come home from the Yamuna Ghats and seen little Krishna playing in the dirt. He had smiled up at her mischievously and held out a filthy, tiny hand for her to hold.
         Yashoda had picked up the little boy and dragged off his reluctant little frame to the bath. Little Krishna kicked and writhed as the determined Yashoda scrubbed the dirt off his body. At last when Krishna looked up innocently at her from within the wraps of a towel, her heart melted.
          Krishna's smile was magic! He kept Yashoda under his spell till he was fully dressed and covered in ornaments. It was time for the final touch, a line of dark kajal to border his eyes. It was then that he fled, disappearing outside the door in a peal of laughter a tinkle of bells.
          Yashoda's spell broke that instant and...she sighed. Looking up at the sun overhead, it was noon. Where would she look now? She had asked the ladies in the neighborhood. They had only laughed at her plight.She had even gone to the fields to ask the cowherds. All she received was a splitting headache from the hot sun.
          She dragged herself off the ground and wearily looked around. Wait till he returns, she thought, I will punish him; no kheer for days. Slowly the thought crept into her head, the poor little boy hadn't eaten since morning. He must be hungry. Suddenly she felt a deep yearning for him, she wanted to see him, she wanted to hold him, seat him on her lap and feed him his favorite kheer.
           Fear filled her heart, was he alright? Had he lost his way? Had he fallen into a ditch or...Yashoda shuddered...swept away by the current of the river. Oh Krishna!, she thought, where are you?
           Defeated, she dragged her feet back to the banyan tree. She rested her back against the tree and closed her eyes.
           The still air stirred for a moment, a light and sweet sound of bells rang, barely audible. Yashoda's eyes flew open. Had she imagined it? No, there it was again, this time louder.
           Filled with renewed energy, she ran, her heart beating out of her chest. "Krishna, Krishna".
           As she swung around the trunk of the great old banyan tree relief swept over her, thank you dear God! There lay baby Krishna asleep, kicking restlessly, the bells on his feet emitting a sound that could charm the Gods.
           Yashoda stood mesmerized for a moment before picking him up in her arms. His restlessness was gone and he snuggled close to her, grabbing a fistful of her sari. She walked quietly back home, Krishna sleeping in heavenly peace in her arms.

          Nandini, give me a sign...where are you?

        

In Your Arms

In your arms it’s my paradise,

In your arms I will close my eyes.

Your arms…the majestic place, the ocean of truth. When I’m in your arms, I lose myself. All my long days of suffering fall away into the deep waters. There is pure calm, ultimate peace.
Then I breathe; I inhale your scent, sweet and masculine. It is like a strange drug which fills my senses. My emotions well up to the surface. Your gentle hands wipe them away.
Your smooth velvet chest, your strong grasp, your gentle strokes; they make this pain bearable; they make this suffering worth it.

The Night Before

It is the night before my wedding and I’m sitting on the beach. The sands are shining like pure gold in the soft light of the moon. The sea is turbulent; the waves are rising like fierce, hungry, black monsters against the inky blue sky; soon falling, defeated, into a pool of foam.
The wind was whistling past my ears, bringing a refreshing splash of the sea water, salty and moist. I am nervous and excited, I am afraid; I am unworthy of being your wife.
There have times when I have been immature, irrational; you have always adjusted yourself to fit into my fantasy world. I have cried and you have left everything to share my burden of pain. My tears have moistened your eyes. It surprises me to recall that you have been unable to enjoy anything without my happiness to stand by you.
When I have laughed, I have been oblivious to the joy it brings to you. Yet you have hidden your own pains just to make me laugh, just to make me smile. You have tolerated my hurting words, my grief, my failure, my selfishness. Why?
You have cared for me when I was sick. You have neglected your own health just to nurse me and entertain me through those lonely times on the sick bed. You have shown me hope for a better future, when I will be well and we will meet again.
You have made me woman but inside, I’m a child, who needs your company and your warm, protecting love. You have ignored your tired and weary body and you have played with me, all the childish games that I love to play. I have only urged you play on and you have done all you could to be a part of my game.
You have given me your hand to hold while I’m asleep, you have always silently watched over me, at all times, at all moments.
I still remember the day when you heard about my sickness. Even now you are unable to accept the fact that it is incurable. You have always blamed yourself for my failing health but how do I convince you that you are the drug that keeps me alive?
We have always eaten off each other’s hands, drank of each other’s cups; we have never been complete without each other.
If I have ever been carried away, you have brought me back to the land, just like the sea does. You have taken the blame for all my failure but never the credit for all my successes; which is rightfully yours.
Why do shower me with love that I cannot equal? What have I done to deserve this ultimate blessing from God? How shall I ever be able to meet your unspoken needs? How shall I be your wife, when you have been no less than a God to me?
The waves caress the sands softly, yet intensely. The sea seems like an unending expanse, stretching forever into the unknown; just like your heart. I feel myself to be small and insignificant as I look up at the endless heavens meeting with the endless sea, somewhere far away and I shudder at the shear enormity of God’s power.

The Unwithering Rose

My heart broke into a million pieces as I watched my child, my heart; pick up a withered flower from the ground. His eyes were sad and his head was bowed, as he looked hopelessly at its blackened and drooping petals.

My heart sank as I took the flower from his hands and drew him to me. His lips trembled and a single tear rolled down his tender pink cheek. I placed his head on my shoulder and rocked him to sleep.

Next morning I woke up early and bought the biggest rose I could find and placed it next to his pillow. He awoke and was pleasantly surprised. He held the rose in his hand and laughed delightfully. His eyes sparkled, his cheeks flushed deep red. He played happily all day.

I took a picture of him holding the flower. I was so happy to see his glee. My sunken heart filled with satisfaction and I was relieved to have restored the smile on his face which I yearned for and loved so much. That night I slept peacefully and thanked God for small mercies.

I awoke late next morning with the sound of sobbing. I quickly ran my baby’s side. It was as if an arrow had pierced my heart; in his hand he held a withered rose, its petals breaking off. His tears brought tears to my eyes too, as I picked him up in my arms and rubbed his backed, consoling him. He held me tightly, afraid that one day, I too will wither like the rose in hands.

As I sat before God that night, while my child slept sadly in my arms, I begged Him to give me an un-withering rose. I would place it in my child’s hand he would smile again.
God smiled His serene smile and extended his hand towards me. I took God’s hands and was transported to a beautiful rose garden.
I gasped at the roses of different colours and sizes. Large rose bushes held blooming roses; pink, red, white, yellow and many more colours. I looked upon them in wonder.

I wanted to give each rose to my baby, I wanted to shower him with roses but my heart felt heavy as I knew they would wither and reduce him to heart-wrenching tears.
Running from bush to bush, I searched for the un-withering rose that God had promised me. The sun beat down on my head, making it difficult to carry on. The thorns from the rose bushes tore through my skin and clothes, ripped at my hair as I fruitlessly continued to search for the unearthly object.

Lost and unsuccessful, I lay down on the grass. God came and sat beside me, His serene smile like a gust of cool wind on my sun-beaten face. I asked him to show me the object of my desire as I couldn’t go on any longer.
God took my hand and I was back again in my room, my sleeping child in my arms, cuddling close to me. I could feel his soft breathing and I was filled with helplessness. What would I give him? Where was the un-withering rose?
I was angry and I questioned God, “Where is it my Lord? You promised me!”
God smiled his serene smile and said, “The un-withering rose is your love, my child. Your love for him will never wither; give him your love, the un-withering rose.”
Next morning I woke up and woke my child. I held my hand out towards him. A brilliant smile broke on his lips and sweetly he said, “Mommy.” My heart melted and pulled him to my heart. As I held him close and played quietly with him, listening happily to his chiming laughter, I thanked God for small mercies.

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The Death Of Radha

She stood on the banks of River Jamuna, the sun beating down on her smooth head, wind blowing her tangled locks of hair. The dried flower petals from the garland around her neck, flew all around, making a small whirl of hopelessness. Her eyes were blinded with tears,her bare feet were sore and dirty, her sari was undone, she was lost to the world...she could only hear the waters of the Jamuna lashing against its banks.
How long had it been since she had danced into the lush green forest along with her sakhis? How many sunsets?
Krishna's words still rang in her ears. He told her thirsty soul to wait for him in the forest, He would come for her, He would erase all her pains.
Radha couldn't sleep, the night before. She tossed and turned and smiled to herself. She combed her long, curly black hair with her fingers, she checked her reflection in the mirror over and over again. Finally she lay on her back and dreamt of their meeting.
Radha was up before morning broke. There was so much to do. Even though she began with the house work as usual, she could not continue as the excitement was piercing her heart and making her unbelievably restless. She finally put down the pale of water and decided t give up.
She painted her eyes with care, she tied her hair in many different ways, but she was not satisfied. She sat in a heap of hairpins and ribbons, sulking. A friendly voice interrupted her mourning as a sakhi appeared at her doorstep. One look at Radha was enough for sakhi to judge the problem. She giggled and put her arms around Radha. She ushered her to wait a moment.
The sakhi returned with all her friends and they began to deck her beautifully with jewelery and flowers. Radha whispered shyly to her sakhis about her fantasies and blushed deep red. When she looked into the mirror, she gasped at her own beauty. She lowered her eyes shyly and beckoned to her friends to accompany her to the forest to witness her divine meeting with Krishna.
They danced and sang on their way. Radha's smile was radiant like the sun. She laughed to her hearts content, her laugh being merrier than the soft tinkle of her earring and anklets. She sat under a large shady tree near the Jamuna, in the clearing. The sakhis gathered around her. Some danced, some sang, some chased each other around the trees while some played in the clear blue waters.
Radha sat quietly making a garland for her beloved. Her dreamy eyes often caused her to prick her finger with the needle. She laughed at herself. She stopped midway and leaned against the bark of the tree and closed her eyes. She was so happy. She awoke with a start when a shower of flower petals fell on her and scream of delighted laughter sounded from a young mischievous sakhi. Radha laughed along...today nothing could go wrong.
Then restlessness grew as the sakhis began to leave. Radha thought to herself, how she will scold Krishna when he arrived. Her ears were strained to hear the sound of his flute but nothing sounded.
She suspected Krishna to be with another woman. Anger mounted as she pictured her beloved in another's arms. She got up and began to pace around. Hot tears came but soon went away as recalled Krishna's sweet voice, promising her a meeting.
Dusk fell, Radha watched the birds flying to their nests. The last sakhi too had left and everything was growing quiet. There were no squirrels, no deer, no birds to play with. Radha was all alone. Darkness enveloped her as she sunk into a drowsy stupor full of thoughts about her love. She was oblivious to the cold, oblivious to the dangers of the forest. Her smile had disappeared, her brow was creased and the flowers had begun to wilt. Yet she believed, Krishna would come.
Morning broke and Radha awoke with the sound a sakhi's voice calling her name. She did not respond as the fresh onset of tears had choked her voice. The sakhi found her sitting in a heap of dried leaves and flowers, her tear stained face also stained with dust from the ground. Sakhi took Radha's miserable face in her hands and tried to wipe her tears but Radha pushed her away. Sakhi tried to explain to her that she was waiting in vain. She should go back to her housework and leave her childish fantasies behind. Radha fell to ground and wept miserably. She refused to go with sakhi. She screamed over and over again that Krishna would come, he had promised.
Sakhi left...again Radha was alone. Breathing heavily with agitation, she began to make a new garland for Krishna. She kept muttering to herself, "Krishna will come, Krishna will come".
Her breaths became slower as dusk fell again. Radha sunk into a fitful sleep. She kept muttering, pleading for Krishna to show himself. Her voice grew louder as the night grew deeper. She awoke just before dawn broke. She screamed and ran from tree to tree, her voice ringing in every corner of the forest. "Where are you My Lord? Why don't you show yourself? Come to me or I shall kill myself". Tears came again and she tripped and fell on the banks of Jamuna.
The first rays of the sun showed her the beautiful blue colour she wanted to see. The koyal's sweet cooing sounded like the sweet music of Krishna's flute. Radha was surprised. She was delighted. She slowly called, "My Lord? My Krishna?". The koyal cooed in return. Her heart filled with joy as she smiled through her tears.
She dragged her tired body up and limped towards the Jamuna. The waves on the river appeared as Krishna's outstretched arms calling to her. Her beat fast, her tears dried up as she stretched her arms out. She stared for a moment at her apparent beloved and thought to herself, 'I'll never let you go, not even in death'. With a sudden surge of joy, she plunged she plunged headfirst into the cool blue water of the Jamuna, into the cool blue arms of her beloved, Krishna.
On the road to Mathura, Krishna ordered his charioteer to stop the chariot. He pelted down from the chariot, looked up at the heavens and screamed out in pain.