Krishna, My Friend

Fiction

An old calendar used to hang behind her parent’s bedroom door, in Bengal. It was very common in those days in many households. Apartment culture had not creeped into their lifestyle yet. The big household used to shelter many old useless nicknacks, which the house lady tried hard but failed to detach herself from. One such common thing was the dated wall calendar, to which a young girl of six or seven was found talking to.

“Aunt Rina has brought this for us, you know, she has made the cake all by herself. And it’s so soft and yummy looking. She wants Mom to taste it and tell her how good a chef she is ! But Mom has gone for bath. Let’s have a bite meanwhile, what say ?”

To this, the picture in the calendar smiled and perhaps gave his consent. The girl took a spoonful of  the two slices of soft vanilla cake from the dish.

“Yum !”, she exclaimed and then offered a spoonful to the picture in the calendar. Changing her elbow angle she gulped the second helping too, herself, happily.

Then asked, “Did you like this Krishna ! You know, Dorothy brings cake for lunch everyday in school, but Mom never makes one for me. Why don’t you ask her to, Krishna !”

“You should try the strawberry cheesecake from that shop near your school. I have heard they are delicious”, the picture advised her. Eating and talking, she lost the track of time, and everything else. 

The calendar had lost all its chronological importance, but still hanging there forever along with some faint cobwebs mainly because of religious sentiments. It had a life-size picture of Lord Krishna.

With Krishna the little girl used to share all her complaints and tears about her parent’s ignorance, school bullies, or mom’s anger. Scolding and sticks ! Krishna was the only silent spectator, the sole comforter in her life. The only friend she had, to whom she could bare her heart and who understood her completely.

The super hit mythological mega series ‘Mahabharata’ had just made its mark in Indian TV channel then, and she used to be a big fan of the magnificent avatar, Sri Krishna. His red lips, blue glossy skin, glittery earrings and the peacock feathered crown, all added to his glamour. Superman like ability to overpower the demons and protect the vulnerable made him all the more dear to the innocent soul.

A young handsome boy, who can be everywhere and yet nowhere, very understanding (mind reader !) and still so mischievous. Notorious and how ! Stealing butter and cream from his mother’s kitchen, and devouring them to his heart’s content. Then sharing some more with his friends. Pilfering the sellable cheese and curds, breaking pots, spilling milk, he troubles Yashoda in every possible way. O his antics are so many !  Troubling neighbours by hiding their cows, stealing young women’s heart and their clothes, when they were bathing in Yamuna, was his daily routine. Of all what attracted the child most to this divine boy’s life story is no matter how naughty he was, Yashoda mother always hugged him, and never scolded.

Then Mom came out from bath, had her lunch, and wanted to taste a slice of cake that her neighbour had lovingly brought for her. She was given the honorary task of giving the new baker her valued feedback. The bowl was lying on the table, covered. She opened the lid and, to her dismay, found it all empty. Only a few crumbles along the edges of the dish. Mother got furious and rushed into the room where the little girl was still sharing her school problems with her best friend. Mother picked up a stick from the corner of the room, and started bashing the child. She kept saying, “Stealing is a crime. Crime should be nipped at bud. How dare you eat my cake ! Now what am I going to reply to Rina !”

Now done with chastising the daughter, she looked angrily at the Almighty and condemned, ” I had asked for a cuddly baby boy from you, and this is what you gave me, God ! An ill-behaved girl child, that too with hunger of the whole world. What a burden !”. Hurting the girl more with her words than her stick, she rushed out of the room, just as she had come.

Later after a while, when the girl was finished crying, and was struggling to comfort herself, Krishna spoke out from the calendar. ” You know, it was all my fault. I should have warned you. We could have shared one piece of cake out of the two and left the other one for mother. But don’t you cry. When my mother comes to hit me, I give a smile and hug her. I think you should hug your mom too, maybe she will forgive you.”

The girl exclaimed, “O all forgiving Krishna, why can’t you teach the world to be as forgiving as you are !”, and then ran to the other room, where her mother was watching TV. Hoping to get the sense of security back, and a little love and reassurance, she tip toed towards her mother. Mothers, like Gods can never make any mistake, she told to herself. And mothers always love their child, no matter what. So the little girl thought.

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Daily Prompt: Many of us had imaginary friends as young children. If your imaginary friend grew up alongside you, what would his/her/its life be like today? (Didn’t have one? write about a non-imaginary friend you haven’t seen since childhood.)

<a href=”http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/imaginary-friend/”>Imaginary Friend</a>

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6 thoughts on “Krishna, My Friend

  1. This was beautifully written, even if it left me a little sad that the child would shortly discover not all mothers were meant to be mothers. One small thing, in the paragraph that begins ‘A young handsome boy…’ I think perhaps you meant ‘antics’ and not ‘antiques’? Forgive me if I read that wrong 🙂

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    1. Yes ofcourse thats what it will be. Antics ! Thanks a lot 🙂 Will edit right away.
      This is my first completed fiction and glad that you liked. In my country gender biased mothers (society infact) are one of the biggest problems, even in educated affluent families. Sad indeed

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