"par itna parishram kis liye, ekaaaa?"
"kichhan bhaiyya ka janmdin hai maiyyaaa! uske liye main vishv ka sabse sundar chitra banaaungi, dekhna tum! woh toh dekhta hi reh jayega!" And the seven-year-old ran off to get more colours for the masterpiece she was working on. She had now learnt to speak properly and not in the baby tongue, but Krishna absolutely loved being called "kichhan" and so that had stayed.
Left behind, Yashoda wondered if she should inform the little girl of the bleak possibilities of her beloved "kichhan bhaiyya" ever seeing the painting, or if she should simply forget all these technicalities of life and plunge into the preparation of the festival everyone else was excited about – janmashtami!
And like every other day, the hope of the heart took over the despair of the mind. "sach kahaa ekaa ne, kanha ka janmdin hai, kitni taiyyaaari shesh hai abhi, main bhi na!" Shrugging at her un-mindfulness, she raced off to get things done.
...
"ari moorkh chhori, itna meetha koi gaiyya ko deta hai kya?" An old lady's scathing words could be heard all across the small village.
"arrey maa, gaiyya ko meetha khilaayenge tabhi toh doodh meetha hoga... aur doodh meetha hoga tabhi toh maakhan meetha meetha banega!" The young daughter-in-law replied sheepishly.
The alarming lack of logic here was a cause of concern for the woman. She almost shook her - "kya ho gaya hai ri tujhe? Itna meetha maakhan kisko degi? Aur agar dena bhi hai toh chhoriii maakhan mein mishri daal dena na?"
"woh... woh kal kanha ka janmdin hai na maa, usko dungi sabse meethaaaa maakhan!" With flushed cheeks and a smile that was a bit too obvious, she answered.
The mention of "Kanha" had left the old lady too dumbstruck to reply. She watched the girl walk away, too happy to care about anything else, and wondered how long it had been since she had seen that little, chubby, ever-smiling blue boy. Her eyes welled up at the mere thought of being able to catch a glimpse of that treasure again.
...
In the woods, the cowherd-boys were engaged in a high-importance meeting. Different opinions were being expressed on ways to spend the day.
"sab apne apne ghar se kanha ka priya bhojan banwa ke yahaan le aayenge, fir saath baith ke khaayenge! kitne din ho gaye..." One of them started.
"uske liye naye morpankh bhi ekatrit kar lete hain chalo! jaane mathura mein milte bhi honge use ya nahi?" Another concerned boy added.
"mujhe toh bass uski murli sunni hai kadamb vriksh ke neeche baith ke... shaanti se, ekdum pehle ki bhaanti!" Someone else said.
Before others could join, a rather timid looking lad slowly began – "mujhe toh bass kanha ko jee bhar ke dekhna hai... usse poochhna hai ki woh sukh mein toh hai na wahaan?"
At this, everyone fell quiet. This little guy had just put into words what all the others wanted to, but somehow couldn't. Nobody said a thing, but everyone understood and wholeheartedly agreed – Would anything ever be more important than their Kanha's well-being and happiness? Nope. Never. Not in a million years.
...
"ye waala ya woh waala?" She pointed towards the two blue lehengas lying on the bed.
"Radha tu bhi na! koi bhi pehen lena, waise bhi tujhe kaun dekhega kal? Hum sab toh apne Kanha ko dekhenge!" And she giggled at the imagination.
