Radha | The Goddess of Love (ON HOLD)

ONE

The days were young, the sky was bright. Everything in my life was subtle, and beautiful. Isn't it ironic how when a person doesn't know anything, they are the happiest? Because as they grow older, something snaps. Intrigue? Innocence?

From when I was a child, the things I vividly remember are my sister's baby-cries and my brother's quietude. Baba's jollity and Grandmother's ear-twisting. Somewhere in the dimly lit corners of my heart, I also remember Ma. In the flashes across time, I used to see her. With a fair milk-like skin, and long strands of delicacy drenched in a glowing black. A tall height, and lips as delicate as her light kisses which she showered on her children.

That's how I imagined her. With a pretty smile, and bangles on her hands that clinked while she churned makhan. In spite of all the mental portraits of her I have in mind, I cannot recall her actual face. She has been a figment of my imagination, that was once real for years.

In my dreams, I reached out to touch her hand, only to see her disappear in fragments – as if dust. Like a mirage. Like an illusion.

I saw her in my dreams, but could never remember her face when I woke up. That is perhaps why, I loved sleeping. Grandmother taunted me a lot for that, calling me a lazy girl, but how could I convincingly tell something which did not seem convincing to my own self?

So, I just heard whatever she had to say.

Grandmother was an unpleasant lady, so everyone said. People could not believe I was her granddaughter, which was quite funny to me. She might have been rude for others, but to my baby eyes, she was a strong lady. She did not miss a chance to tease me and my sister or my father and brother when they were home too.

I didn't have any right to complain, because after Ma died, she was who took my care. She was Grandmother just for the sake of literality. But for me, she was a mother.

...

One fine day, I felt a commotion outside my room. I was gazing at the trees flowing because of the sweet wind that was caressing them. The wind smelled precious, hence all of the villagers knew that it was to rain soon.

Grandmother had just brought me in my room after a bath. That day, Grandmother had made me wear a different set of tiny jewellery. I usually wore little golden loops and necklace with a few other matching accessories. But that day, I was mindlessly waddling around my room, in a jewellery set made of little blue flowers.

When I got out of my small room, I didn't feel anything special happening, unlike what I was hoping for. But then I saw a carriage getting ready, and I instantly was making my way downstairs, tripping on curiosity. In an excited haze, I rushed my way past the kitchen and the yard, straight to hug Baba. He almost fell from my tiny impact, but laughed nonetheless.

'Baba, where are you going?' I asked him, looking up at his face. He picked my small frame in his hearty arms and kissed my cheek.

'We are all going somewhere, Radhika,' he said smiling, but that smile didn't crinkle his eyes like it always did. I was too young to understand that. I was only an innocent age of nine.

Where? I asked him.

To Gokul, he told me. I nodded my head in wonder. Gokul, the land of animals as I liked to call it. I had not visited it, but I knew that there resided a lot of animals – cows, peacocks, birds, doves. My friends had told me that the place was mystical, because the animals loved it the most out of all the villages. The village was fascinating for a little girl like me, who loved animals and greenery. Gokul was a special village, home to love and care.

Gokul is a special place, the root of my love and the start of an undying tale.

...

I loved talking to animals, despite of their inability to reply back. They just flapped their ears, or nuzzled in my lap lazily. Perhaps that is why I liked them; they were great listeners. I could sit for hours, and they would accompany me throughout – listening to my silly yet heartfelt thoughts.

In the midst of doing just that, Grandmother's voice called out to me. It startled the little rabbit, making me chuckle at its little jump of shock. I quickly picked the little rabbit and set it on the ground. I straightened my lehenga and ran towards the house.

My house was not very grandiose, but was slightly bigger than any house in the neighbourhood. It had a big veranda that stretched along the walls of the house, wrapping around from all sides. In the middle, there was a courtyard that connected all the rooms on the ground floor. From outside, it seemed bigger than it was from the inside. From two adjacent sides, it was connected to a spaced forest.

I ran along the walls of my house and to the front door. When I got to Grandmother, she was already sitting on the wooden carriage. The buffaloes bellowed. Everyone thought that they were misbehaving, but I only thought they were greeting me. I lightly patted their backs, quieting them. Papa lifted me up and placed me on Grandmother's lap. I rested my head on her shoulder, nuzzling in her aura.

'Why are we going to Gokul, Grandmother?' I questioned. You would not understand, she replied. 'I can! I am a big lady now-'

'You are big lady? You, stupid girl,' Grandmother said shaking her head and laughing noisily. 'You are not even ten yet. And don't shout like that.' She said patting something on my hair. I huffed and pouted.

I turned away from Grandmother, but she slipped her arm around under my arms and sat me on her lap again. 'You have grown older now though. My lap has become too small for you, hasn't it big lady?' Grandmother said pinching my nose.

After a few minutes of shuffling and settling, we started our journey.

The carriage was uncomfortable, to say the least. It hurt my legs and my hips. The pleasant weather, however, made the ache easy to ignore. It contained the warmth of spring and the sweetness of monsoon. Intrigue caught my eyes as the carriage passed by tiny stalls of embroidered clothes, spongy sweets that smelled delicious.

I was holding Grandmother's wrinkly hands in my chunky ones. I was constantly bothering her with questions, and she was answering them in single monotonous words. I was too curious for Grandmother who didn't speak much.

Looking back, it was true that I used to be a chatter box, as Grandmother said.

Finally, after two sour hours, we reached somewhere.

I looked around me. There were stalls of pink and white lotuses, and marigolds too. I was instantly drawn to their colourful contrast against the dark green leaves and the darkening sky.

I pulled at Baba's sleeves, 'Baba, can you buy me those flowers?' Baba smiled, 'Sure I can little girl, which ones do you want, tell me.' I pointed my finger to a small yellow flower near the blushing lotuses. It looked so pretty; I could not wait to glide my fingers over its petals.

We all got down, and I tilted my head upwards. 'Is this a temple Grandmother? Grandmother? Grandmother...is this a temple? Which temple is it?' I was speaking, and Grandmother was just pulling me by my hand towards the temple. After a while, she answered that it was Mahadev's famous temple.

I looked around me, and got a hold on Manjari's tiny hand, pulling her with me. She was only five at that time. She was a chubby kid, with the most precious mind and the most contagious smile. She was a quiet kid, unlike me, who was always around shattering utensils and Grandmother's old words of exhaustion.

The aura of temples always felt inviting – the heat that radiated from the lit lamps and the smell of fresh offerings always intrigued me. Grandmother used to teach me prayers and chants, which I could easily memorise – much to her surprise. The ringing bells and the singing of the priests felt unreal, sometimes.

After that, everything that happened is blurry to my memory.

However, I remember the majestic temple of lord Mahadev, sitting amidst the small magical town – a ground that was wet with the dark blue skies' thick tears – a petite glowing flower that was delicately held by a little woman – and a certain little boy, who was too beautiful for anyone but for that girl.