KRISHAVYAYAM

20. Golden Hour

SOMEHOW, IT ALL FELT LIKE FLYING. To hold his hand and take a leap of faith, to flounder in love slowly and surely and all at once. She was in asphyxia, and had never known breathing more freely than now. God, he and the contradictions of them were going to be the death of her someday.

Serendipitous. Seraphic. Sarang— for that was how they found each other. The water nymph had bewitched the charming prince with a flute, the bards and ballads sang till the ends of Aryavarta.

When Kanha had promised her a fairytale of her own, Shri had laughed and shook her head, for he was way too persuasive and she knew she was falling for it. “Your gallantry complements my silver-tongue. And thus, I choose you. I always will. In a hundred more possibilities, for a hundred more eternities. Your heart is tender despite your clear sense of justice. You are the perfect dichotomy of the cosmos and everything anagalactic. To be with you, is all that I seek,” he claimed when she had asked: why would you want me by your side?

Not that her devotion had never quivered. Not that a million battle pursuits weren’t suicide missions for bravery and foolishness have little difference when the wits are played around with. But surely, a flickering hope to live was in her. A sense of belonging, like hiraeth. She named it— Priyavara. Her beloved bridegroom, which her heart festooned to be hers.

“ मांगल्यं तन्तुनानेन स्नापयामि जनार्दनम्।
वरं चन्दनकस्तूरीमन्तु सुमनसा सह।। ”

With this sacred thread of auspiciousness, I bathe Lord Janardana.
Let the groom be adorned with sandalwood, musk, and flowers together.

Panchala was bejeweled in gold and crimson. Reds and gilded trails so glimmering that it was as if the constellations circled around the silvery dark moon. Decked in the finest of silks with a threaded border which resembled the bronze of her irises, stood Kanha as the troop of unchaperoned royal men buzzed around him. Balarama adjusted the upavastra on his taut shoulders as Nakula and Bhima matched lariats and necklaces to be clipped around the almighty. Sahadeva was giving the final perfectionist touches to his crown which housed a couple iridescent feathers.

Kanha was still in the dream of his from an eternity back— half unsaid, half conveyed, half aching love wanting to be given, for that was hers. He didn’t want it with himself because he couldn’t have grasped it any longer. 

Enter Yudhishthira, the destined emperor whose presence commanded deference. “There you are, Vaasudeva. I hope she hasn’t rendered you too restless, our little sister?” he raised a brow, fixing the dangling earring of the man of the day and the latter’s cheeks warmed up. “Jyeshtha, not you too!” Kanha grinned nonetheless, radiating a serene glow that defeated the dusk’s gradually ascending reign. The boys burst out laughing, pulling legs and tugging at him who was to take away Krishnaa’s sister.

“Oh he hasn’t been like that at any of the weddings. Nervous much, baby brother?” The avatar of the multi-headed gigantic snake upholding the earth on his hood, spoke to Vishnu who shook his head a little. His tousled curls produced a silhouette of rain clouds upon the sunset bathed walls of the chambers, beyond which was the bride of the almighty. “She’s . . . delicate and soft, and so fierce I can never forget the fire bestowed upon us the present that she is. I’m just . . . restless. Now, am I not Chanchalaa’s love yet again?”

~°~

To her, his love was elixir. Near unattainable. The gods’ blessing. A love that descended her bodily self.