04/09/2026
Story Time : On a dark, rain-soaked night in Mathura, a child was born in a prison cell. Devaki and Vasudeva had been imprisoned by King Kansa after a prophecy warned that their eighth child would end his rule.
At midnight, Krishna arrived. Vasudeva’s chains fell away, the doors opened and the guards sank into a deep sleep. He placed his newborn son in a basket and stepped into the storm. The Yamuna made way while Shesha spread his hood over the baby against the rain. That same night, Krishna was safe in Gokul with Yashoda and Nanda.
He grew up amongst cows, music and a great deal of stolen butter. A child of mischief, forever climbing into kitchens and breaking open clay pots.
He was Shyam, dark and luminous like a monsoon cloud. In paintings that deep colour became blue, the colour of the sky and the limitless sea.
That little boy became the flute player Radha loved. Sudama’s loyal friend. The protector who lifted Govardhan Hill. Later, on the battlefield of the Mahabharata, he was Arjuna’s charioteer and guide when his courage deserted him.
These stories filled my childhood. At my mother’s huge ancestral home, Jhulan was celebrated with astonishing pomp and ceremony. There were songs, dances and elaborate plays about Radha and Krishna, until the whole house seemed to become Vrindavan.
I still remember being put on stage at three, dressed as a little cowherd, with real calves beside us. I remember almost nothing about my own performance but remember the bright lights and those calves wandering vividly.
Jhulan came first in the monsoon, with Janmashtami soon afterwards. In my memory they have always run into one another. Flowers, music, butter, peacock feathers and a vast house full of people.
For me, Janmashtami means hope arriving in the darkest hour where a prison door opens , a father finds the courage to walk into a storm and a flooded river makes way.
And it brings back every Krishna. The baby, the butter thief, the lover, the friend, the protector and the teacher.
And somewhere amongst all this is three year-old me, trying very hard not to be upstaged by a calf.
Happy Janmashtami. Xx
