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a miracle child
born to a mortal mother
the creator pretends
to be the created


stealing butter,
breaking pots,
teasing girls,
Gokulam’s naughtiest child

and then one day
the friends complain
“Mother Yashoda, your little one
is eating mud from the Yamuna banks”

worried she rushes
to her darling boy
her anxiety disguised as anger
he smiles - the sly little blue-eyed boy

in his musical voice he cries-
“I did not eat mud, sweet mother, the boys lie!
come look within
and see with your own eyes!”



poor Mother Yashoda
not knowing she stared
into that little mouth
and lost herself in what was there

he lifted swiftly the
veil of maaya
the truth shone forth
with a blinding light!

                                                  * त्वमेव माता च पिता त्वमेव ।
                                                   त्वमेव बन्धुश्च सखा त्वमेव ।
                                                   त्वमेव विद्या द्रविणम् त्वमेव ।
                                                   त्वमेव सर्वम् मम देव देव ॥


she saw herself
and her dear little boy
the whole of Gokulam
within his jaws lay!

and the whole earth
and the universe
galaxies and multiple worlds
was her little boy cursed?

her fear mounted as she saw
the entire cosmos
the boundaries blurred
time - a non-entity

the past, present and future
only a tiny river
she saw the vast expanse
of his creation

he made these worlds
held them like puppets on a string
and then morphing
he became death!

and unable to take more
she swooned
when the Creator, the Preserver and the Destroyer
merged to become-her adored little one!

                                                    
You are my mother, and my father
                                                     You are my relative and my friend
                                                     You are knowledge, You are prosperity
                                                     You are my everything, My God of Gods*


and then he looked at her
with an infinite compassion
he’d shown her
what she needed to see

now it was time
for her to forget, to become
his doting mother again
he kisses her with innocent love and toothy grin

once more
maaya takes hold
the illusion more beautiful
more irresistible to behold!

- Vijayalakshmi Harish
         04.09.2012

Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
This poem describes an incident from Lord Krishna's life when he was a child. His friends complain to his mother Yashoda, that he has been eating mud. When she looks into his mouth he reveals his divinity for a short while, before becoming her baby again.
Seema Aug 2017
Maa Yashoda ke tum dulaare
Tujhe tere bhakt pukare
Chale aao mere makhan chor
Tujhse bandhi hai preet ki dor
Mohini muskaan, chanchal ye maan
Teri pooja karoon mei jeewan bhar
Aayi hai teri madhur janam diwas
Meri hirdaye mei basay rahena, bas
Shama karna, har bhool ko mere Kanha
Kabhi mujhe bhool se bhool na jaana
Haath jhod kar, tujhe sumiroon
Yaad tujhe har pal karoon
Poori kar doh apne bhakto ki kami
Aap ko shubh ** ye janmastami...


©sim
**TRANSLATED ENG**

You are mother "Yashodas" darling
Your followers call upon you
Please come, my little butter thief
With you, is my whimsical tie
Charming smile, restless this heart
Your prayer I do throughout my life
Your mellifluous birthday has come
May you stay in my soul always
Forgive all my fouls, O' Kanha
Never by mistakenly forget me ever
I fold my hands in rosary
I think of you all the time
Fulfill the wishes of your followers
Happy birthday to you...

©sim
Kanna: the tamil equivalent of the words baby/ sayang/ honey/ bunny/ sugarplum/ puffy yummy yum.

There is nothing sweeter than calling a loved one Kanna— the god of love, another name for Krishna.

Krishna's love encompasses the entire spectrum of this beautiful feeling – love for his foster mother Yashoda, for his brother Balaram, love for gopis and for Radha.

Imagine meeting someone so wholesome you want to call them Kanna.

Kartinee Mageswaran
Tamil
Sarayu 1d
The mind whispers,walk the path of dharma,like Arjuna, with his bow drawn tight.

The heart replies, let me offer love into it,like Meera, singing to her Krishna through the night.

Situations whirl around me.

Like the churning of the cosmic ocean—Samudra Manthan

Where every choice pulls like devas and asuras

Tugging between what’s right… and what’s desired.

But my soul, ancient and still,speaks in the voice of Vishnu, resting upon Ananta.

Soft, eternal, and unshaken

Do what is necessary

Time moves—like Shiva in his Tandava

Moments rise and fall

Karma spins its golden wheel.

In the center of it all

Like a flickering diya in the wind

Like Draupadi with folded hands

I stood… still.

Not knowing what’s right and what’s desired.

Until something touched me

Not a voice, not a word,but a divine light

Like the jyoti of Arunachala.

The kind of light Yashoda must’ve See when she looked into Krishna’s mouth and saw the universe.

It said:

When your heart and mind stop their war and start walking together,like Lakshmi beside Vishnu grace flows into action.

Miracles don’t just visit…They begin to live in you.

When your soul accepts the leela,when it bends with the time,even suffering becomes prasad.

Even poison, like Neelakantha’s, becomes a sacred strength.

So I bow

Not in surrender,but in sacred acceptance.

I do not run after answers.

I do not ask the winds to calm.

I walk the sacred thread—that unseen sutra,woven by Saraswati’s wisdom and Sita’s silence.

That ties duty to devotion.

Lets love carry its weight.

With no need for reward.

— The End —