The mysterious Radha and her last meeting with Krishna !!!



This question has seeked me ever since I can remember …from my my dreams…in my realisation and my internal assimilation of Lord Krishna as my god.

However ,I am not fascinated by Krishna as much I have been by Radha .

Everyone – follower or non follower – knows Krishna and all the famous tales about him ..However very very few know about tales of Radha . Just Radha .Her perspective. Her viewpoint .

Yet we call “Radha Krishna” as our Lord and not Krishna alone . We have their idols showing them as two …yet when you study and research deep the mythological meaning or implied meaning(s) is.. that they are ONE !!!

Just one soul ….one life…one meaning…one UNION .

However for now I dont want to dwelve deep into philosophy or pyschology or mythological reasoning or spirituality or anything..

I just want to enjoy the beauty of this story…plain simple !! Treat it as FICTION .

The lesser known story of my lord and your lord..

Via Harsh Nevatia’s articles ( the bits I loved the best and below )

Radha has been perceived differently by different people down the ages. She is sometimes the adulterous and amorous lover of Krishna and at others his divine consort. This perhaps makes her the most confusing character in Indian mythology.

In the eastern religious tradition, she is however accepted as a beloved of Lord Krishna but the wife of another, sometimes mentioned by name as Aiyyan.
Anyway, Krishna without Radha is unthinkable, and I consider the view accepted by general tradition as appropriate

Part 1
Krishna went to his mother, Yashoda, and turned on the full force of his charm. “Mother,” he said, “I want you to send a message to Radha’s family, asking for her hand in marriage.” Yashoda thought this was another of Krishna’s pranks. But when Krishna persisted she replied firmly and clearly.
She said, ” You cannot marry Radha for several reasons. She is engaged to Aiyyan. You are the son of a chief and her family is much lower in status. She is older than you. And she is a brazen girl, totally unfit to be a wife.”

Krishna then used his final weapon. He threatened that his mother would not only lose a lovely daughter-in-law if she refused, but also her son. Yashoda then asked him to settle the matter with his father. So Krishna went to Nand and repeated his request. His father said with a wink, “I have noticed that you are spending more and more time with the girls lately. No wonder you want one for yourself. There are many chieftains who would willingly wed their daughters to you.” Krishna interrupted and said that he wanted to marry Radha and not a chieftain’s daughter. The arguments were repeated. Finally Nand said he was no match for Krishna in a debate. Their family priest, Sage Garg, was arriving the next day and Nand would refer the matter to him.
Krishna told Sage Garg that since he and Radha desired each other, they should get married. Garg replied that desire as a reason for mating is the way of animals. The matching of temperaments, family backgrounds and future plans should be considered while selecting a spouse. Krishna stated that even as per these considerations he could not find any fault with his choice. Radha’s temperament was perfectly matched to his, their family backgrounds were similar and both of them would be spending the rest of their lives in Vrindavan doing what the men and women of Vrindavan had always been doing.
Sage Garg then said, “I think it is time to tell you the truth about your birth. You are the eighth son of Prince Vasudev and Devaki. It was prophesied that you would kill your maternal uncle Kansa and deliver the Yadava race from his tyranny. Hence you were secretly brought to Gokul and were brought up as the son of Nand and Yashoda. The great sage Vyasa has foretold that you will be the leader of the Yadava race and the saviour of all humanity. Hence I have brought Sage Sandipani with me, who is to begin your education in the scriptures, procedures of governance and the art of warfare. We all have great expectations of you. Radha is a village girl. She will not be a suitable companion in this endeavour. That is why we are against this marriage.”
Krishna quietly digested what had been said and then replied softly but firmly. “First of all I would like to aver that Nand and Yashoda are my parents and I will always look upon them as such. Then I would request you to keep the story of my birth a secret from the people of Vrindavan till it is time for me to leave. If they learn the truth then their attitude towards me will change and this I will not be able to bear. You say that I am to deliver all humanity from suffering. I cannot begin this formidable task by thrusting the person who loves me the most into unbearable suffering.
From the moment Radha saw me tied to the mortar eight years ago, there has not been a single day that she has not waited for me. With every breath that she has drawn she has taken my name. For her spring comes when I come to meet her and winter begins when I leave her. If I had died fighting Kaliya, the poisonous snake, many in Vrindavan would have been heart broken. Mother would have never stopped crying and father would have lost his smile forever. But Radha would have given up her life there and then. Radha lives for me and in me and I live for her and in her. If you prevent this marriage, you will be depriving me of the right and power to carry out the great tasks you want me to. I beseech you with folded hands to grant your consent.”
Sage Garg was overcome by the rationality and intensity of this speech. He gave his consent. Radha’s joy knew no bound. And in the celebrations that followed Aiyyan was forgotten.

Part 2
The news that Krishna was leaving spread like wildfire throughout Vrindavan. The youth sensed that they were losing a staunch friend; the maidens sensed that they were losing a man of their dreams and Radha….
Before Radha could even begin to ponder upon the consequences, the melodious sound of a flute wafted throughout the village. The women left what they were doing and ran to the Madhuban. There was no time to wear their ornaments or comb their hair. While running they tried to arrange their clothes to give an appearance of modesty but soon gave up. Radha picked up her anklets and raced ahead of everyone else, her bosom heaving with excitement. Her Kahn was calling her. Krishna was standing in his usual spot, his right leg crossed over his left, and playing his flute with gay abandon. Radha cuddled up to him and began to sway in the rhythm of his music. The other maidens formed circles around them and began to dance. The men folk, the elders and children too had come there, but were watching from a distance, so as not to embarrass the dancers.
Every maiden wanted Krishna to dance only with her, every maiden imagined that Krishna was dancing only with her and the spectators could see a multitude of Krishnas, each dancing separately with one of the lasses. Such is the power of love; such is the power of faith. This was the Maharasa or the “great dance”. When the dancing stopped Krishna and Radha were missing.
Radha and Krishna were heading for their favourite nook in the Madhuban, near the Yamuna river. Radha was in Krishna’s arms, her tousled head resting on his shoulder.
“Will you always be like this, Kahn?” asked Radha.
“Always,” he replied, “Till the sun and the moon endure.”

But Radha was not satisfied by this assurance. “Will you always remember me?” she asked.
“How can I forget you,” replied Krishna, “You are my Goddess of beauty and joy.”
They reached their destination and huddled close together on the mossy grass. They kissed tentatively at first, but the pent-up passions soon engulfed them and they united in body and soul. After a while Radha got up and began to tie her disheveled tresses into a knot. “Will we always be together after we are married,” she inquired uncertainly. Krishna replied that they were inseparable and that they had just got married according to the Gandharva tradition. According to the this tradition, sexual intercourse among consenting couples was tantamount to the marriage rituals provided the male was of royal descent.
“You will always be my prince,” said Radha, “but you are not of royal blood. And I do not regret our love making so you do not have to justify it.” Then Krishna narrated the story of his birth, of his being the redeemer and his leaving for Mathura before dawn. Radha let the whole narration sink in and appeared to be forming some decisions of her own. “Is there anything that can make you stay?” she asked.
“Nothing can hold me from my destiny and my duty.” Replied Krishna firmly. “Why do you worry? Are you afraid that I will die at Kansa’s hands? It will be over soon and then I will call you to Mathura”
“No, I am sure that you will kill Kansa. And then you will become the king of the Yadavas. A lot of people will look up to you, will bow down before you, and will depend on you. You will become the saviour of humanity,” said Radha.
“And you will be my queen, by my side always,” added Krishna.
“No,” replied Radha surely. “I am a poor cowherd girl. I will be lost in the palace intrigues. There will be many princesses wooing you and wanting you at any cost. I will be awkward and gawky compared to them. This village girl will be a handicap to you in your new avatar. For you will undeniably change. Your life will be filled with politics and manipulations. You will fight wars and participate in destruction. That will be a part of your destiny and I don’t pass judgment. But the Kahn I loved was a cowherd boy, whose calling in life was to graze cattle, who played the flute and danced in the woods and whose crown was a peacock feather and weapon was a bamboo staff. I will not be able to see you in any other form.” Radha was now sobbing convulsively and Krishna has to take her in his arms to calm her down.
After regaining her composure Radha continued. “Please listen to me Kahn! Let me stay here and take care of your parents. Here in Vrindavan I will see you in the waters of the Yamuna, the slopes of Govardhan and the trees of Madhuban and hence I will always be with the Kahn I knew.”
They sat silently for a while reflecting on the past, savouring the last moments of togetherness and coming to terms with the future. Krishna broke the silence. “You are right Radha. In Mathura I will have to change and if you come with me then you will have to change as well. I will not be the Krishna you knew and you will not be the Radha I knew. We will not be able to replicate the magic we weaved here. And without either of us here, Vrindavan too will wither away. But if you stay back, then Vrindavan will become an enduring shrine to our love and you will be its deity.” Krishna then told Radha that preparations had been made for them to get married in the Vedic manner and since the auspicious moment was drawing near they should return. Radha requested that Krishna leave his flute behind as a gift to her and Krishna readily agreed.
It was time for the final parting. The villagers had turned out to personally meet Krishna. Radha stood beside her mother in law, dressed in bridal finery, her face covered modestly by her sari. From time to time she looked up at Krishna, each glance a pledge of eternal devotion. Krishna’s eyes met Radha’s each time and he smiled at her reassuringly. Any other communication in front of the elders would be out of place. So no words were said and no hands touched. Krishna touched his mother’s feet and mounted the bullock cart with Nand, Balaram and Akrura. Radha looked without blinking at the cart till it disappeared round the corner and then fainted. Krishna never set foot in Vrindavan again.


Part 3
Krishna never set foot in Vrindavan again. But legend has it that he did come face to face with Radha once, later … much later. After he had killed Kansa and become the leader of the Yadavas. After he had shifted his capital from Mathura to Dwarka. After he had married Rukmini and Satyabhama and the others.
It was at the occasion of a total solar eclipse. A massive congregation had gathered at the field of Kurukshetra to bathe in the holy tank of Syamantapanchaka after the eclipse. (It was said that a dip in this tank after eclipses purified the soul. It was here that the great sage Parshurama had come to atone for killing the evil kings and warriors. He established that all killing is sinful, even when the persons killed are evil and deserve to die, even killing in war. Hence all killings have to be atoned for.) All the major kingdoms were represented. Krishna was leading the Yadavas. Dhritarashtra of Hastinapur was there with his sons the Kauravas and nephews the Pandavas. So were many other kings. Little did they know that soon they would be engaged in a do or die battle on this very field some years later. Many common folk had come as well. Among them was the cowherd community of Vrindavan.
When Krishna’s parents, Vasudev and Devaki learnt of this they wanted to meet Nand and Yashoda. They had never met Krishna’s foster parents and wanted to thank them for taking care of their son in his formative years. The meeting was a very emotional one. Balaram met his old cronies and reminisced about old times.
But when Krishna came face to face with Radha no words were said. No hands stretched to meet each other, no smile played upon lips and no eyes sparkled with delight. Only a million thoughts flashed through each mind and a deluge of tears flowed from each pair of eyes. Radha had promised not to get involved with Krishna’s later life and she intended to keep that promise. Krishna did not want to say or do something that would make things difficult for Radha. They stood staring stonily at each other till all the thoughts were exhausted and the eyes were dry. Though Krishna and Radha had been physically separated, they had been inseparable spiritually and would continue to be so till the end of the world. Radha had seen the splendour in which Krishna’s wives lived and the joy he lavished on them. But she knew that his tears were for her alone and that each drop was more valuable than all the riches of the world. Krishna knew that Vrindavan would be enshrined forever because of Radha’s sacrifice. Both were assured that they had taken the correct decision many years ago. Without saying anything they said everything and went their separate ways. They never saw each other again.


चीन और चाइना माल |


गाहे-बगाहे रोड पे चलते हुए आपको एक ऐसा करैक्टर जरुर मिल जाता होगा….जो लाल रंग के abidas (adidas के जगह )के जुत्ते पहने हुए ….पिला रंग का lewi’s (levi’s ) का जीन्स …एक चमचमाता हुआ रंगबिरंगा कमीज़ ..आँखों में ray bon (ray ban की जगह ) का चश्मा …. नीले रंग का बाल स्पाइक कट में….और अपने 10 इंच के मोबाइल को कान पे लगाये हुए बहुत ही बिजी ….जैसे किसी से बहुत बड़ा डील का रहा हो| 
एक जमाना था जब महंगे सामान,TV,मोबाइल,ब्रांडेड शूज अमीरों के पास ही हुआ करते थे | पहनावे से ही मालूम चल जाता था की ये गरीब है और ये अमीर या फिर कहें ये गंवार है और ये शहरी | चाइना हर उस चीज़ को गांवों में पहुंचा दिया है जिसे वो पहले टकटकी लगाये देखा करता था और अपनी हालत पे मन मसोस कर रहा जाता था |मानाकि अभी भी वो ब्रांडेड चीज़ नही पहनता हो या use नहीं करता हो लेकिन अगर आप अपने Iphone पे गेम खेलते हुए …विडियो देखते हुए …गाने सुनते हुए इतरा रहे हैं और सोंच रहे हैं की बगल में बैठा हुआ इन्सान गंवार है तो आपको सावधान होने की जरुरत है …भालान्ही उसके पास Iphone नहीं हो लेकिन उसके 5000 के चाइना मोबाइल में इतने सारे features होंगे की आपका phone उसके सामने पानी मांगता नज़र आएगा ….बड़ा स्क्रीन और गाने का volume इतना ज्यादा की पूरा गाँव सुन सके| वो सारे चीज़े use करने लगा है जो आप कर रहे हैं ….same पैकेजिंग स्टाइल सिर्फ नाम में हल्का सा बदलाव ….PONDS के जगह PONS….Ipod जगह Itod …..Sony Tv के बदले Soni TV|
चाइना के साथ भारत के जैसे भी रिश्ते रहे हों लेकिन गरीब और अमीर के बिच वाली खाई को कम करने में ‘चीन’ और इसके सस्ते प्रोडक्ट्स का बहुत बड़ा हाँथ है |

Typical Bihari Middle Class Family


“road par park kar do bike kisi band dukaan ke saamne, parking ke paanch rupaye kaahe kharch karoge?”


mere hisaab se madhyam varg samaaj ke arthik vibhaajan ka sabse haasyaaspad paksh hai. na BPL card ke liye yogya, na mahenga chaawal khareedne ke yogya. dohri maar to ye hai ki jyadatar madhyam varg wale uchcha jaati ke hote hain aur aarakshan se bhi vanchit reh jaate hain. madhyam varg ka bahut rona hai. thoda mai yahaan rounga, thoda padhne waale comments mein royenge.


middle-class ko apne status(facebook wala status nahi, social status) ki sabse jyada chinta rehti hai. padosi ki car hai to hum bhi loan le kar khareedenge. car khareedi jaati hai. car me bachchaa winnie the poohlatkata hai. saal bhar bechaare petrol ki keemat ke sthaayi hone ka intezaar karte hain. aur saal bhar baad bank car lekar chali jaati hai. bachchaa poochhta hai- papa car kahaan gayi? papa kehte hain- mera beta car pe nahi, aeroplane pe chalega.


bihar ka middle-class shiksha ko bahut praathamikta deta hai. IAS ka sapna maths ke ‘x’ se jyada common hota hai. kisaan ho ya clerk ho- mera beta collector banega. beta paise ki kabhi tumhe koi dikkat nahi hone denge. zameen bech denge; loan le lenge, tum collector ban jaaoge to fir khareed loge. bihar mein padhai nahi hogi. dilli jaao, kota jaao….bihar mein padhaai nahi hogi. jha ji ka ldka bhi to banaaras mein padhta hai. beta, ladki ke chakkar mein kabhi mat padna, sehat ka sabse jyada dhyaan rakhna aur bas padhaai karna. aur phone daily karna jab tum free hoge. kabhi-kabhi mandir bhi chale jana.


khareedaari badi dilchasp hoti hai. khaaskar jab mahila ho. iss se sasta dikhaaiye. arey chhodiye ye to bahut kamzor hai. itna mahenga nahi chahiye. ye do din mein toot jaayega. loot rahe hain aaplog. bhaaisaahab door-mat bech rahe hain ya tajmahal ki kaaleen?. arey kya aap humara do ghanta waste kar diye aur kuchh khareedne laayak dikhaaye bhi nahi.


middle-class family mein ek motorcycle jaroor hoti hai. aur wo pulsar ya enfield nahi hoti, boxer ya splendor hoti hai. jab pita-putra uspe sawaari karte hain to pita ke updeshon ki seema nahi hoti. aur agar pariwaar ke bachche chhote hain to ek ko tel ki tanki pe bitha diya jata hai aur doosra typical-lady-on-bike-style mein baithi hui maa ki god mein baithta hai. vaahan ke peechhe ek bag bhi bandha hota hai. ye motorcyclein sahi maayane mein vaahak hain middle-class ki.


middle-class gharon ke darwaaje aawaz bahut karte hain. iss se chori ka khatra kam rehta hai. sofe ke gadde puraane hokar hard ho chuke hote hain. diwali me bachchon ko environment-friendly banaane ki bharpoor koshish kii jaati hai aur chhat par jalaaye gaye diye new year tak chhat par hi rehte hain.


middle class family ka bhojan aksar classic hota hai. mehnati log hote hain isliye paachan-shakti achchhi rehti hai aam taur par. aksar raat ke bhojan me pakaude ya kheer ya paneer ki sabji banaakar usey dinner ka naam diya jata hai. pita bade pyaar se putra ko chammach pakadna sikhata hai. par ant mein putra haath se khaane ki sabhyata ko hi barkaar rakhta hai.


bihar mein angrezi bolne ka bada mahattva hai. aathvi se dasvi ke chhaatron se rishtedaar aksar poochhte hain- arey beta, english medium mein padhte ho? kuchh bol ke bataao english mein. fir pita badi aashaa bhari nazron se putra ki taraf dekhta hai. aur chaar angrezi ki linein bolkar putra swaargik sukh ka anubhaw karta hai. rishtedaar kehte hain- bada honhaar bachcha hai. isko IAS ki taiyyari karwaaiye. 


middle class family mein saahitya bahut saraahaa jata hai. sarita, grihshobha, vanita ityaadi monthly magazines badi asaani se mil jaayenge. kuchh gharon mein akhand-jyoti aur kalyaan jaisi dhaarmik patrikaayein bhi aati hain. akhbaar bhi har roz aataa hai aur uska padhne ke alawa bhi kai tarah se upayog kiya jata hai. mahilaayein kisi vyanjan ki vidhi ko dhyaan se padhti hain aur kabhi-kabhi banaati bhi hain. in patrikaaon me sehat sambandhi jitne bhi nuskhe hote hain, ek baar beemaar padne par sab aajmaa liye jaate hain. bechara beemaar bachchaa pata nahi kin-kin cheezon ka soup aur juice peeta hai.


abhi tak sab bahut humorous laga hoga padhkar. lekin middle class ka bhi apna class hota hai. family mein aapas mein prem bahut hota hai. log jyadatar saath khaana khaate hain. putra pita ki izzat karta hai aur oonchi aawaaz mein kam se kam college life tak baat nahi karta hai. tabhi to upper class mein isey middle-class-values ya middle-class-shit bhi kahaa jata hai. mujhe ye shit pasand hai. aapka pataa nahi. 🙂

Miss You


Its just another day 
with a dawn and a dusk.
I pull myself up and go for a walk
It hasnt changed atall 
But my blood feels cold

This town is no more a dear one 
It has strangers all over 
with strange faces and awkward voice
my heart sinks when i look around

and my sinking heart cries 

Goodbye my friend, Goodbye my Brother
I miss you hamesha, remember you forever

the yellow light doesnt glow today
the nesting birds dont sing
had you been here
you wld have laughed at the way

and thats why my soul mourns 

Goodbye my friend, Goodbye my brother
I miss you hamesha, remember you forever

The Mirchi is no hot; not anymore 
Mohabbat, no no, not with stranger
they dont move the way we use to move
they dont dance the way we use to dance
So no Mohabbat

Will also go someday and so will the stranger
This town is soaked everywhere in danger

Who will dance
It wont be the stranger

Thats why my brother 
I miss you hamesha, Remeber you forever.



There is a world out there I never knew ..
That’s painted in purple and yellow and all it’s hues ..
That I just came across ..
Because I pushed open a door ..
That was never there before ..
But appeared in front of me out of the blue ..

This place was filled with people that had mysterious smiles..
And pathways that led to destinies unknown ..

But once you were in there ..
You were secured like never before..

So I strolled..
And walked along a path that led to the sea..
When suddenly I met a pair of eyes that were smiling straight into me ..
Warm, trusting , true and naughty and loving..
We exchanged no words ..

But it was in the air..
As if I was forced towards him..
I followed the eyes and he led me..
To another door ..
Should I…

View original post 311 more words



What Babar says in his private will to his son, Humayun :”O my son :people of diverse religions inhabit India; and it is a matter of thanksgiving to God that the King of kings has entrusted the government of this country to you. ‘it therefore behoves you that :

”1. You Should not allow religious prejudices to influence your mind, and administer impartial justice, having due regard to the religious susceptibilities and religious customs of all section of the people.

”2. In particular, refrain from the slaughter of cows, which will help you to obtain a hold on the hearts of the people of India. Thus you will bind the people of the land to yourself by ties of gratitude.

”3. You should never destroy the places of worship of any community and always be justice-loving, so that relations between the king and his subjects may remain cordial and there be peace and contentment in the land.

‘’4. The propagation of Islam will be better carried on with sword of love and obligation than with the sword of oppression.

‘’5. Always ignore the mutual dissension of Shi’ahs and Sunnis, otherwise they will lead to the weakness of Islam

“6. Treat the different peculiarities of your subjects as the different seasons of the year, so that the body politic may remain free from disease.’’

Satyagraha–The art of living and dying


The root of Satyagraha is in prayer. A Satyagrahi relies upon God for protection against the tyranny of brute force. Why should you then be always afraid of the anybody playing you false? If somebody deceives you, he will be the loser. The fight of Satyagraha is for the strong inspirit, not the doubter or the timid. Satyagraha teaches us the art of living as well as dying. Birth and death are inevitable among mortals. What distinguishes the man from the brute is his conscious striving to realize the spirit within. The last eighteen verses of the second chapter of Gita which are racited at the prayer give in the nutshell the secret of the art of living. It is given there in the form of a description of a sthitaprajna or the man of a steady wisdom, i.e. a Satyagrahi, in reply to Arjun’s query to Lord Krishna.

     The art of dying follows as a corollary from the art of living. Death must come to all. A man die of a lightning stroke or as a result of heart failure or failure of respiration.But that is not the death that a Satyagrahi can wish for or pray for himself. The art of dying for a Satyagrahi consists in facing death cheerfully in the performance of one’s duty. It is not  enough not to want to hurt  or to take the life of your enemy. You are no Satyagrahi if you remain a silent or passive spectator while your enemy is being done to death. You must protect him even at cost of your life. If thousand of India learn that art, the face of India would be changed and no one would be able to point his finger of scorn at her non-violence as being a cloak for weakness. We would not then try to shift blame for ugly happenings on the hooligan elements. We would convert and control the hooligan element too…