If only I could see your face in the fall of a shooting star, or fading moon light; if only I could hear your voice amidst the rustle of leaves, or in the owl’s hoot; if only I could sense your touch in the northerly wind; would my heart know its respite; if only u were near to shoo away the silent night that has come to embrace me.
Pari couldn’t get herself to believe she really had met Kay, her very own Kay. Her mind was weaving million thoughts all over again:
“Oh my god! It still feels surreal. I mean why would He come? I know I wanted Him to come, but is it that simple? All it takes is a thirsty heart, and God would come down to quench it. Mind blowing! Though if I even whisper about it, my life is screwed, I mean, nobody is gonu buy this stuff, but well, who cares? Oh my god! I know, who cares. He came. Oh my God!”
“I must have been 23 then.” thought Pari smiling to herself, as she closed the 2010 diary, and opened a random page from 2012. It read:
Well clad in one of the finest yellow silks, Mr. Kay steps out of a warm shower on that cold Krishnashtami morning. I never got my head around to a guy wearing beads and gems all around, but one look at Him, and I knew I sighted perfection. He is clearly the one ‘Purusha’, with or without all the ladylike paraphernalia.
The deep curls covered most of His forehead, and He had to do a small jiggle before wearing the crown. He slid the sole of His Persian Rose like feet into one of those royal wears that I have seen in yester year Tamil films. I could hear whispers of joy from all those tiny trinkets which adorned Him.
Sitting diagonally opposite to His dressing table, I ached to see His beatific face in its full pristine form.
“The lady doesn’t know how to wait, does she?” chuckled Krishna in His honey dripped voice, letting me remember His omnipresent ways.
My heart skipped a beat, as I heard Him after what seemed like eons. Every atom in me somersaulted in jubilation, and I prayed hard, lest I melt before I cast my eyes on His glorious self.
“A prayer always gets answered” said the lord, as He turned towards me, while the depth of His words thundered through the realm.
If I was Newton, dearest Kay, I would have come with a fourth law: the probability of a tear blurring your vision almost always happens when you don’t want ‘em.
“Is that how you write a law?” He mocked.
“Well, a devotee is magnanimous just like the lord, and I don’t want to torture future students with convoluted passages. Believe me when I say they have had enough.” I replied with a smile.
Now that He distracted my tear away with a conversation, I drank in the beauty of His form.
“My god, you are beautiful. Any other word would do no justice” whispered I, almost swooned by the ecstasy of it all. Even a twitch of His eyebrow seemed enough to bring to life all that lay dormant. His eyelids danced as He read the letters/cards that came His way, and I had to give a sheepish smile, when His raspberry lips gave me a glimpse of His pearly teeth.
“Cut it out” my mind whispered, “why do you have to identify every feature of His to something?”
“Yeah please, you should really stop. I mean what’s with the raspberry and pearl combo? And why didn’t you have anything to say about the nose?” guffawed Krishna.
“Nose? I don’t know how would people describe nose, at least I haven’t heard of ‘em until now” said I, as my cheeks turned red.
“Okay enough teasing, what have you got for me?” asked Krishna rolling His naughty eyes towards my bag.
“Well, just a feather, thought you might like it” I replied, feeling inconspicuous for what can I give Him that is not already His.
Magnanimous being His middle name, He came towards me, knelt, so that it would be easy for me to reach Him, and Bhagwan uvacha, “why don’t you tuck it in my crown for me, I would like to wear it.”
Lost in the sublime love, I really had to gather myself for a minute or two, before I could do the honor.
“There you go Parineeta, you have made the purusha feel like a boy for a second, but now I got to go back and be the purusha – people are waiting with gallons of butter you see” winked the lord.
“Thank you lord, and happy birthday” I muttered, reluctant to let Him go. Without a pause, I added, “Can I get a hug?”
“Of course” smiled the lord, and embraced me in His love.
“Will I see you around then?” I ask, and instantaneously He says, “Always… Not just on weekends, remember?”
As my blue boy walks past the Vaikunta Dwaram, I whisper to myself, “I will miss you Kay.”
Only to see my Kay turn back and say, “I will miss you too.”
Pari kept her diary away, and mulled over His words. “What did He mean when He said ‘always… and not just on weekends’, when He hasn’t come to her as before?” The question taunted her, and she knew it was up to her to find an answer. Would revisiting her memories aid her at all, she decided to find out.
- Yashoda Krishna (advocatemmmohanaksharaalu.wordpress.com)