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Sitting in quietude
on the bank of the stream
that gurgles past our home,
I get an excruciating chill
when a strange thought rocks me:
a Brindavan without Radha and Krishna
Unseen, the Kadamb flowers to wither,
an ocean of Yashoda’s love to dry up,
tons of milk and curd to turn sour,
soft yearning hearts of cow-maids turn to stone
In great fear I get a strange vision-
a sky without a sun, a moon and stars,
a Yamuna without the ripples of love,
meadows without green grass and cattle
A canvas without a painter and his brush,
a sky without birds, clouds and rainbows,
sleep and slumber free of fantasies and dreams –
without love and romance a life-long death
Thoughts such as these I get scared of,
I beseech Radha and Krishna in embrace to show up!!
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