Winter

237 6 0
                                    


The night sighed chills. The month of Aghrayana as usual made the stars twinkle in the icy sky. Most of trees lay bare, and those that still breathed trembled under the scorching gaze of Chandra, the sneakiest of the Gods. Radha felt like cursing him. "Look!" She hissed at Vishakha, "Look at the shameless moon staring at me! He has neither pity nor remorse!" Her eyes were red and swollen, her bright yellow garments now covered in dust. She shook in rage. Her friends had long given up consoling her. They now only awaited the arrival of him.

Right then, Lalita burst into the cabin like an unstoppable draught, and began to shake Radha and pointed to the door behind them. She herself trembled, her eyes glistening. In those dewy orbs Radha seemed to find new life. The door slid open and let through itself Radha's lifeline- her Krishna.

Smiling briefly, Krishna came closer and embraced Radha. Having controlled herself for this long, she could not hold it in any longer. Embracing Krishna even tightly she sobbed. Krishna as he stroked her hair, "It's not like it matters though, does it?"

Springing up, Radha immediately pushed Krishna back, her eyes flashing, "Doesn't it matter? Tomorrow I'm getting married to a random stranger from a random village and you don't even care!" She started sobbing harder. Krishna looked troubled, "I did not mean that Radhe, it truly will not change anything!" Radha pushed him away from her, "I don't care how you do it Mohana, but get the wedding called off tomorrow! I'm warning you for the last time, or else I will jump into the sacred fire just like Devi Sati once did!" Krishna nodded weakly, "Radha, it's not like I am liking having to see you marry another person, but you know our fate, don't you?" Radha stared at him in incredulity, "It will be hard, but all the same! You cannot give up now."

Radha shook her head slowly. Wiping a tear from her cheek she spoke, "They say you're an ocean of kindness but they don't know you Shyama! In reality you're the cruellest person I know. You care about nothing and no one!" She had probably hoped to bring Krishna to his senses with the arrows of her words but Krishna just shook his head, "Never had a choice, Priye." He smiled sadly.

---

The night collapsed into a chilled, hazy morning. Everyone walked around rubbing their palms for whatever heat they could get. A thick fog dampened the fires and the moods. Wood fires burnt in corners of the streets. Villagers stood around them warming themselves and exchanging news/ The smell of burnt wood mingled with the steady gurgle of the milk-churners in every home. Cows mooed sleepily as their herders hustled them along.

In the villages of Barsana and Vrindavan however floated the fragrance of enthusiasm. The grandest marriage of the season was today. The princess of Barsana was getting married to Ayan Ghosha, the prince of Jarat. Her friends were sorry to see her go. The young men of Barsana who had spent many a sleepless night dreaming about the charming Radha and now secretly seethed.

Even in her despair Radha was forced to smile and laugh as her cousins, unaware of her plight, chattered away, while adorning her with the best of jewels.

All through the day, Radha had caught his gaze many times, and for the first time in her life she found, bewildered, that she couldn't read him. Was he sad? Angry? Or just desperate to get the day over with?

He seemed as chirpy as ever. Laughing and joking. Though frivolous and outspoken, King Brishabhanu and his wife Kirtida couldn't help but trust Krishna. After all, the lad got twice the work done in half the time, and he kept the mood of farewell as far as possible.

Kirtida had tried following Krishna around for some time, but gave up considering her age and his speed. Brishabhanu and she had been terrified until the morning, what with all of the relatives coming in. Gossip after all, spreads faster than any forest-fire! To their relief Krishna kept his distance from the women in general, greeting and serving the esteemed guests only.

---

Yashoda smiled brightly as she adjusted some of Radha's jewellery. There was only about an hour left for the wedding. She couldn't understand why Kirtida had insisted that she stay. "Big day today?" She asked softly. Radha seemed to break out of a trance, "Y-yes." She answered. Yashoda couldn't understand herself; she ought to be happy for the King and Queen of Barsana but a strange emptiness seemed to engulf her by the passing moment. Now that she reflected, every aspect of this wedding seemed forced, almost pretentious.

Waving away the strange thought Yashoda brought back her mind to the present and focused instead on Radha's ever-so-happy glow. Did that glow seem a little dimmed today? Well, of course, she thought, the girl is to leave her home forever in a few hours' time, who'd be happy about that?!

---

At last, it was time. Hearing the heralding drums Yashoda rushed outside to have a glimpse of the arriving party. Radha rushed to the balcony, her eyes frantically racing here and there. Would he not come? Not even now? Not once before the disaster? Then she saw him, lying on a low branch of the faraway ashoka tree. No flute in his hand. She couldn't see his face although she guessed he wasn't laughing now. "Now dear, is it honorable for the princess of Barsana to stare out of the window showcasing her face for the entertainment of the entire world?" Radha jumped back at the voice of her mother.

Of course, she knew exactly what Radha sought in the bloodied evening sky. Unfortunately, she too was helpless today.

---

The time for the marriage had been fixed at Godhuli- the junction of day and night. The union of fair and dark; joy and despair; Radha and Krishna. Sighing, Radha lowered her eyes. She wished not everything would remind her of Krishna.

At this moment did see him. Right behind her husband. Krishna held the hand of the man with utmost care and led him to the altar. That's how you held me, she said in her mind, seething even in despair.

I see you in everything Priye, his eyes seemed to say.

Panchama RagaWhere stories live. Discover now