"Can I ask you something?"
Standing before the dark, Shyam-colored deity, I asked softly. It had been a long time since I returned to my village, and this morning, when I went out for a walk alone, I found myself far from home, drawn to a temple of Girdhari.
I had been thinking of Him since the morning, feeling an inexplicable urge to meet Him. Perhaps it was because He, too, wished to see me today. Nature seemed to be sending His letters to me—the whisper of the leaves felt like His breath, and the birds' songs like the sound of His flute.
Walking alone was just an excuse. I loved strolling quietly, having unspoken conversations with Him in my heart. Whenever I saw a flower along the way, I would pluck it, thinking I would offer it to Him. I had gathered quite a bouquet by the time I reached the temple, though He had not appeared. Yet, for some reason, I couldn't stop smiling. Maybe it was because butterflies, hidden in His name, fluttered inside me, filling me with a lightness and brightness I couldn't explain.
As I wandered, a small, secluded temple appeared before me on the quiet path. Hesitating for a moment, I stepped inside and found it completely empty. The old architecture suggested that it had been here for centuries. I moved forward cautiously, absorbing the eerie silence. The temple was mostly dark, except for a glowing blue light coming from ahead, as if the night's dark moon had turned blue instead of golden. I couldn't make out what was before me due to the radiance, but as I moved closer, I saw it—the dark, Shyam-colored idol of Krishna, the flowers which I plucked for him fell down as I was so lost in the beauty of krishna's Idol.
He was beautiful, more precious than gold. The deity's intricate features seemed sculpted with the utmost care, every detail so perfect it seemed as though He could come to life at any moment. My heart raced with excitement as I gazed at Him, fighting the urge to rush forward and embrace Him. As I took slow steps toward the idol, I could feel a tremble in my legs and my heartbeat thundering in my ears. Yet, even in my growing nervousness, there was an overwhelming sense of familiarity, as though I was returning to someone I already knew intimately.
Tears flowed freely as I neared Him, though I didn't know why. My feet wouldn't stop, nor could I contain the flood of thoughts racing through my mind. I raised my hand toward the statue, and at that moment, I heard a whisper, as if someone were speaking softly into my ear. Everything around me seemed to disappear into silence. The voice was unlike anything I had ever heard.
"Who are you talking to over there? I'm right here…"
That whisper, that sweet, intoxicating voice—it felt as though my soul had been waiting its entire life just to hear it. In that moment, I thought, I can die peacefully now. There's nothing more to want from life.
I hadn't even turned to look at Him yet, and already I was lost. What would happen when I finally saw Him? Slowly, I turned around, and I didn't have to do anything—He did it all. As soon as I turned, my trembling legs gave way, and He moved forward to catch me. But little did He know, His touch only made things worse.
Yes, it was Him—Shyam... Our beloved Krishna, moon in the night sky, but this time in human form.
My gaze was locked on His face, unable to pull away. It was as if I had booked a front-row seat to a masterpiece show, and I couldn't help but study every detail of that masterpiece art. His eyes met mine, and although I felt shy, but I couldn't tear myself away. So, I let my eyes drift down to His lips instead, and just as I did, He let go of me and I fell down.
"Ahhh!" I cried out softly as I hit the ground, more out of surprise than pain.
"If you give someone a finger, they'll take your whole hand," He said, extending His hand to help me up, a mischievous grin on His face.
I felt a rush of embarrassment and frustration, so I stayed seated on the ground, pouting. How could someone so beautiful, so divine, behave like this? I had never imagined Krishna would be so… sarcastic like this!
As I finally took a closer look at Him, I noticed something odd. He wasn't exactly how I had always imagined.
"Are you really Krishna?" I asked from where I sat.
He crouched down to my level, locking eyes with me again, and replied with a smirk, "Do you need me to show you my Aadhar card to prove it?"
Who answers like that? All my life, I had imagined Krishna wearing a bright yellow dhoti, a mala , a peacock feather , His form gentle and serene. But this Krishna? He was dressed in a stylish black and white shirt and jeans type pant, modern and effortless. I hadn't even noticed His clothes earlier—I had been too entranced by His face beauty. He was so different from what I had imagined but infinitely more captivating.
If He ever reads this, He might think that I'm only fascinated by His beauty, but I would like to tell Him otherwise.... It's not just His beauty; it's Him—His entire existence—that I love.... I love him in his all form..... And if He insists on hearing some more praise lines for his new look, I'd prefer to whisper it privately, not in front of the world,... lest He starts thinking too highly of Himself! I don't want him to be much overconfident.