A Glimpse of Yashodha's Fortune


Whenever I listen to the stories of Krishna's childhood, I find myself thinking about Yashoda. 

How fortunate she was! We listen to the bala lilas of Krishna and consider ourselves fortunate, but she experienced it firsthand. She saw the stolen butter, listened to the complaints of the gopis, fed him milk from her own bosom while He looked deep into her eyes. And we are waiting for lifetimes to even get a knowing glimpse of kindness from Him.

The scriptures tell us that such fortune did not come easily. Yashoda and Nanda performed great tapas over many lifetimes before receiving the opportunity to raise Krishna as their own child. Yet Krishna gives all of us a way to understand a small part of that blessing in the form of our children.

When we care for children with this understanding, ordinary acts become sacred. Preparing a meal, listening patiently, comforting tears, answering endless questions, cleaning up messes, and sharing in their joys and sorrows all become opportunities for seva.

No parent can experience Krishna the way Yashoda did. Her fortune is unique. Yet every parent is offered a small glimpse of that same buttery sweetness.

Perhaps that is why children can transform our lives so completely. They draw us out of ourselves. They teach us patience, sacrifice, affection, and unconditional love. Through them, we are given an opportunity to serve without constantly calculating what we will receive.

Yashoda's fortune was not merely that Krishna lived in her home. It was that she loved Him completely although the love was of a mother for a child and filled with moha. Such is the maya of ShriHari.

Bala Krishna

This small painting of Krishna I painted with taking my daughter's picture as a reference, reminded me of that thought today.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Portrait of my parents (in 2022)

Image
In 2022, I painted this portrait for my parents' 40th wedding anniversary. But looking at it today, I see details in their presence that I was only beginning to understand when my brush touched the canvas. ​My mother, at 65, is the quiet force that holds our universe together. To an outsider, she is in the crowd, cheering gently from the sidelines. But the truth is, she has spent decades carrying this family on her shoulders. Her sacrifices aren't grand, dramatic statements. They live in the smallest, daily details that most people overlook or take for granted. The tiny concessions, the invisible choices, the ceaseless everyday labor. When you look closely, you realize we are all standing on her shoulders. ​My father is a different kind of anchor. Retired over a decade ago, he exists in a rhythm entirely his own. He doesn't cheer. He observes, giving a slight, silent nod of approval when it matters. Being with him often reminds me of the Bhishma Parva. It isn't a Guru-...
Read more

Matsya Avatara

Image
Painting Light – Bringing Matsya to Life Matsya - Manu One of the greatest joys of oil painting is watching light emerge layer by layer. This painting was never intended to rely on dramatic contrasts alone. I wanted the light to feel as though it originated from Matsya Himself, gently illuminating King Manu's face and hands. The warm glow across Manu's chest, neck, and chin was built using transparent glazes of  Quinacridone Sienna  (with  PO48 ), one of my favourite pigments. Its rich golden warmth has a depth that I have always found difficult to replace. Since this pigment is no longer manufactured, every painting that contains it feels a little more special to me. I'm glad that it became part of this one. The fish is the only true source of light in the painting. I wanted its glow to gently illuminate Manu's face and hands, hinting that this is no ordinary creature. The Divine often reveals itself softly before it reveals itself gloriously. Stages of painting Workin...
Read more

The Beginning of a Journey: Towards the Dashavatara

Image
Around a year ago, I finished a painting of Narasimha. My daughter loved the depiction of His fiery rage and said to me, "Why don't you paint all the ten well-known avataras of Lord Vishnu?" I loved the idea, but I let it sit quietly in my mind for a long time. I began referring to books and studying traditional depictions of each avatara. Yet I knew I did not want to paint a human body with a fish's tail for Matsya, or dwell on the gory details of Narasimha slaying Hiranyakashipu. For some time now, this idea has been quietly growing within me. Lord Vishnu appears for a unique purpose. Each avatara is a response to a different crisis. Yet together, they tell one continuous story. The righteous are tormented by ungodly forces, the world loses its balance, and the Lord descends to restore dharma. But there is another, more intimate reason. Every avatara is also a reassurance to His bhaktas that He never abandons those who seek refuge in Him. Whenever Lord S...
Read more