HARIHARESHWARI 16 - विशृंखलित राजवंशाः

CHAPTER 32

As the chariot carrying Krishna and Balram made its way through the streets of Mathura, the entire town erupted in a joyous celebration. The sound of bells, drums, and conch shells filled the air as people danced and sang in jubilation.

Flower petals rained down from rooftops, creating a colorful carpet for the chariot to pass over. Children ran alongside the chariot, their faces beaming with excitement, while the elderly offered prayers of gratitude for the safe return of the divine brothers. Women shower flower petals from the rooftops as men play drums and blow conch shells to herald the arrival of Krishna and Balram.

The streets were lined with people of all ages, eagerly waiting to catch a glimpse of their beloved deities. The people felt just like those who have lost their wealth and then regained it.

Krishna's enchanting smile and Balram's strong presence captivate the hearts of the people as they wave back at them with pure devotion. It feels as if time stands still, and all worries and sorrows are forgotten in the divine presence of the two brothers. The chariot glided through the gates, bathed in a golden glow from the setting sun. The people cheered and clapped, their voices raised in song and praise.

The palace gates swung open grandly and the chariot made its way through the gates, disappearing into the palace, a sense of peace and contentment settled over the city, knowing that their beloved princes had returned home.

As the chariot carrying Krishna and Balram rolled into the palace courtyard and halted, the brothers' eyes fell upon the royal family and ministers who stood in respectful silence at the threshold of the palace, their faces glowing with anticipation and joy.

Krishna and Balram looked at each other, sharing a knowing smile before stepping down from the chariot. The Yadavas erupted into cheers and applause as the brothers approached, their presence radiating warmth and light. The air was filled with the sweet scent of flowers and incense, creating an atmosphere of celebration and reverence.

Krishna and Balram climbed the stairs gracefully, with petals of fragrant flowers showered upon them. Devaki could not contain her emotions as she embraced her sons tightly, tears of happiness streaming down her face. Vasudev stood beside her, his chest swelling with pride as he gazed upon his sons.

Rohini patted their heads affectionately and kissed their foreheads, her eyes filled with pride. The younger brothers, led by Gad, couldn't contain their excitement and leaped in delight at the return of Krishna and Balram. The palace echoed with sounds of laughter and happiness.

"Bhrata aap aa hi gaye !" Gad giggled.

Krishna smiled and ruffled his younger brother's hair, "Kaha tha na, hum shigreh lautenge."

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In Vrindavan, a heaviness hung in the air. It was there ever since Krishna and Balram had left for Mathura. The usual vibrancy and liveliness had faded, replaced by a somber atmosphere of sadness and brooding.

The villagers moved about with downcast eyes, their hearts heavy with the absence of their beloved Krishna. The Gopis, with tears glistening in their eyes, stand on the outskirts of the village, staring into the distance, convinced that Krishna will return any moment.

As the sun begins its descent, casting a golden hue over the landscape, the Gopis clutch the edges of their sarees tightly, their hearts aching with longing for Krishna's return. Each passing moment feels like an eternity as they wait, their hopes flickering like a dimly lit candle in the darkness.

"Aaj bhi nahi aaye." One of them muttered.

Another Gopi assured, "Kisi karya mei vyasth honge, kadachit iss liye Krishna nahi aa paaye. Kintu kal awashya aayenge."

Thinking that he'll come tomorrow, the Gopis went back to their homes once again. Everyday they used to get disappointed and leave, promising themselves the same thing, that maybe their beloved will come the next day.

In the sheds, the cows and the calves stand listlessly, their usually melodious moos replaced by mournful lowing. The usually playful calves now huddle close to their mothers, seeking comfort in the midst of their shared grief. The gentle creatures seem to sense the absence of their beloved Krishna, the one who would play his flute to call them.

The trees bow their branches in sorrow, their leaves rustling softly in the melancholic breeze. The fields of Vrindavan, once alive with the sounds of laughter and music, now lie still and silent, as if mourning the departure of their beloved master.

Inside Nand's home, Yashoda sat by the window, her gaze fixed on the horizon as if she could will her son to return with just her thoughts. The room was filled with an eerie stillness, broken only by the occasional sigh that escaped Yashoda's lips.

The toys Krishna used to play with lay untouched, a painful reminder of his absence. The walls seemed to echo with the laughter and mischief of Krishna, making his absence even more palpable. The usually bustling home now felt empty and desolate, as if a piece of its heart had been taken away.

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the courtyard, Yashoda's eyes remained fixed on the horizon, as if thinking he shall return. Her heart ached with longing, yearning for the sound of his flute and the sight of his mischievous smile.

Nand approached her with a heavy heart, "Yashoda ?" He placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Dekhiye na Nandraj..... Krishna abhi Tak nahi aya." She said, her eyes fixed on the village road.

Nand sighed, "Yashoda woh-" "Aane dijiye aaj use. Bahut daatungi ! Itna vilamb koi karta hai ?" She said.

"Woh Mathura mei hai, Yashoda." Nand said.

"Oh ha." Yashoda's face fell, her eyes reflecting the pain of separation from her dear son. She fell silent, her heart heavy with the absence of her beloved son.

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A/N

Ek jagah sukh hai, ek jagah dukh....