Chapter 1: The Dance by the Yamuna

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the land of Braj, the air was filled with the soft hum of music. It was a special time, a moment when stories from the past came alive. This was the story of Radha and Krishna's Holi, drawn from the ancient texts of the Shrimad Bhagavatam and the Garg Samhita.

Beneath the sprawling banyan tree by the Yamuna River, Krishna sat with his friends, the gopis. The day had been filled with singing and dancing, and now, as twilight settled, the gopis were reluctant to leave.

"Isn't it quite late now?" Krishna asked gently, his voice like a soothing melody. "Aren't you going home? Your families must be waiting for you."

The gopis looked at each other, their eyes reflecting the light of the setting sun. One of them spoke up, her voice filled with devotion, "Oh Shyam, what are you saying, Giridhari? You're tired? Even knowing that, we won't leave. We will serve you first to ease your tiredness, then think of other things."

Krishna smiled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Serve me? Alright, let's see. I'm sitting here by the Yamuna; show me how you'll serve."

Another gopi exclaimed, "Oh no, Madhav, don't sit like that. Why sit in this dusty place? We won't let you get dusty. Wait a moment, Madhav, just wait."

With swift and graceful movements, they spread their colorful scarves on the ground, creating a throne fit for their beloved Krishna. "Krishna, you will sit here," they insisted, their voices a chorus of affection.

Krishna chuckled softly, "Your scarves will get dirty."

But the gopis shook their heads, "With your touch, they will gain glory, Madhav. By touching them, we can also feel your presence. Come, Krishna, sit here. The breeze from the Yamuna will ease your tiredness. And with our service, your body will feel better, Madhav."

So Krishna sat, surrounded by the devoted gopis. Some gently touched his shoulders, others his hands, while a few massaged his feet. None of them were in a hurry to return home. They were lost in the moment, as if the world beyond Krishna did not exist.

Watching their devotion, Krishna finally spoke, "Aren't you going home, my friends? Won't you take care of your households?"

"If we return to our homes, you will leave, Madhav," one of the gopis replied, her voice tinged with longing. "Our world will become empty again. What will we do if you go away, Madhav?"

Krishna sighed, "Alright, we are the only ones losing ourselves thinking about you, Krishna. But you don't think about us. That's why you're asking us to leave. How can you be so cruel to us?"

"You misunderstand me, my friend," Krishna explained patiently. "What one person wants from another, you want from me. But, my friend, you are mistaken. You won't get that from me."

"Why not, Madhav? Don't you feel any connection to us? Doesn't our longing reach you?" another gopi asked, her eyes searching his face for answers.

"Listen, my friend," Krishna said softly, "let me tell you something. I don't follow the usual ways of people. Even if someone longs for me, I don't appear before them day and night. Don't think they can always see me, my friend."

The gopis were silent, their hearts heavy with the weight of his words. One of them whispered, "How cruel you are, Keshav?"

Krishna's gaze was gentle as he replied, "You are calling me cruel without understanding. You are blaming me for no reason. Well, if that's how it is..."

Another gopi, unable to hold back her curiosity, asked, "Listen, Madhav, can you tell us the real reason behind your strange ways?"

Krishna nodded, "Alright, my friends, let me tell you about my nature. If I stay with you all the time, then your hearts won't long for me. You would see me whenever you want, so where would the eagerness go? Friends, what would happen to the longing your hearts feel for me now? If your hearts no longer chant my name day and night, what would happen? That's why I step away from you."

The gopis listened, understanding dawning in their eyes, yet their hearts were still filled with sorrow. Even in their selfless, pure love, they realized they could not bind Krishna to them. He was bound to them in spirit, yet he did not stay with them all the time. This was the nature of divine love, a mystery that left them both yearning and fulfilled.

The night deepened, and the whispers of the Yamuna carried their story across the land, a tale of love that transcended time and space.

Chapter 2: The Devotion of the Gopis

The gopis sat together, their hearts heavy with the weight of Krishna's absence. "What will become of us if God is not with us?" one of them lamented, her voice trembling with emotion. "Without Krishna, our lives are like a fire of separation."

Tears welled up in their eyes, and sadness etched deep lines on their faces. With voices full of sorrow, they spoke to Krishna, "Oh Madhav, you have admirers everywhere. You can go to anyone you wish. Who can stop you? Who can hold you back? Who has that power? Go wherever you wish, Madhav. But where will we go? We have no one else but you. We can't worship anyone else. We will just think of you and wither away. That is our fate."

Krishna, with a gentle smile, reassured them, "What? Will you wither away? Those who think of me gain my blessings. Friends, they become immortal. What more can I say about you? The devotion with which you love me is very rare, friends, very rare. Nowhere else in the world is there such devotion. Because of this, I am forever indebted to you, friends. Even God remains indebted to His devotees."

The sage, who had been listening intently, turned to the king. "Yes, O King, among the gopis of Vrindavan, there is no sense of self. They know nothing but Krishna. Thinking of Krishna, they become filled with Him. They become one with Krishna."

The king, moved by the tale, wiped a tear from his eye. "Oh, what a wonderfully beautiful thought," he said softly. "Wherever one looks, everything seems like Krishna. Just like the gopis of Vrindavan, no one else could be so absorbed in Krishna, King, no one. Such love binds even God himself. That’s why Vrindavan is his soul."

The sage nodded, "Oh, what amazing words you have spoken, Lord. My eyes are filled with tears, my heart is full, and I feel a thrill all over. Truly, just as Hari is infinite, so are the stories of Hari. Listening to these stories awakens love, Lord. Desires fade away, and life feels blessed."

"Do you understand, King? If listening to the stories of Hari gives you goosebumps, it's as if you have reached the doorstep of the eternal abode. The fear of death has vanished for you."

The king leaned forward eagerly, "I want to hear more, Lord. Tell me about Vrindavan. I am waiting eagerly like a thirsty bird to hear these stories."

The sage smiled, "Acharyadev, tell me, King, what do you want to know?"

"Tell me about Radharani," the king requested, his curiosity piqued.

The sage began the tale of Radha and Krishna's union. "Spring arrived in Vrindavan. The day of playing with colors was approaching. The friends were filled with great joy. They were excited to color Krishna with their love. So, even before the full moon of Holi, they started preparing colors. Vrindavan was making the colors that Krishna loved. Now, they awaited that special day."

Everyone in Vrindavan was ready to play with colors. They were busy discussing the festival. But one person was missing. Radharani did not come. The king asked, "Why, Acharyadev, did she not come? Why was she upset with Krishna?"

The sage explained, "Because Krishna went to other friends, played his flute by the Yamuna with them, and perhaps did not meet Sri Radhika in the forest. So, Radha was upset. She decided not to meet Krishna anymore. She turned away from the Holi festival in Vrindavan and sat alone in her in-laws' house."

On the day of Holi, Vrindavan buzzed with excitement. Krishna himself wore yellow clothes, held his flute, and adorned his head with a peacock feather. He wore a sandalwood mark on his forehead given by Mother Yashoda. He greeted his parents, Rohini Devi, and brother Balaram with colors. Then, with a playful grin, Madhav went out to play with colors with his friends. His friends stood waiting, plates of colors in their hands.

"Look, look, there comes Madhav!" one of them shouted, pointing excitedly. "Come on, friends, before he colors us, let's color him first. I have made a garland; let's adorn him with this forest garland."

Another friend called out, "Wait, Madhav, wait. Today we will color you to our heart's content."

Krishna laughed, "Come, friends, give as much color as you want. Give me all your colors today." But then, he paused, looking around. "But where is your queen today, friends? I don't see her on this festive day."

The absence of Radharani hung like a shadow over the celebration, reminding everyone of the deep bond and occasional heartaches that accompanied divine love.

Chapter 3: The Colorful Path to Radha

Krishna stood among his friends, a playful smile on his lips, as they questioned him about the mysterious absence of someone dear. One of his friends asked, "Who are you talking about, Madhav? I don't understand."

Krishna chuckled softly, shaking his head. "How would you understand, my friends?" he replied with a hint of mischief in his voice. "Even I couldn't fully understand her."

Another friend, puzzled, pressed further. "Still, tell us, Krishna. For whom is your heart restless?"

Krishna's eyes twinkled with a secret joy. "Do you want to hear what's in my heart, friends? There is a name written there," he confessed, a warmth in his voice. "That name is what I chant day and night. My heart, soul, and spirit are immersed in that name. My flute knows no other name but that one."

The group of friends nodded, understanding now who Krishna meant. "I understand, I understand," one of them said, smiling. "We are just ordinary people, so why would anyone call us by name?"

"Don’t be upset, my friend," Krishna reassured him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Now, honestly, with your hand on your heart, tell me, don’t you also chant his name day and night? Aren’t you eager for him just like I am? Tell the truth."

The friend admitted, "Yes, Madhav. You’re right. When we don’t see you, our lives feel empty, just like when we don’t get called to the court of Brajeshwari, it feels incomplete. If he doesn’t have a place among us, all joy seems dull. But why blame only me? I’m just as helpless as you are."

Krishna laughed, his voice filled with affection. "I understand, I understand. Don’t try to save yourself. You’ve been caught, Krishna. Now you’ll face punishment from him."

"Is that so?" Krishna teased, raising an eyebrow. "I’ll be punished? Why? What did I do wrong?"

Another friend chimed in, pointing a playful finger. "You wander around the groves with the gopis instead of going to him. He has heard everything. He waits for you day after day."

Krishna's expression softened. "Are you saying that your Brajeshwari is upset with me?"

"Yes, Madhav. We’re telling the truth," they confirmed. "She doesn’t even want to hear your name. If someone mentions you, she leaves."

Krishna's eyes widened in surprise. "What are you saying? This can’t be true."

"Fine, if you don’t believe us, come and see for yourself," the friends urged.

"Come with us, Shyam," they beckoned. "Let’s see how much your Radha cares for you."

"Yes, yes, Shyam, come on," another friend eagerly agreed. "We’ll see with our own eyes. We won’t be at peace until we see what punishment Brajeshwari gives you."

Krishna sighed, a playful resignation in his voice. "You’ll say that, trying to please you, I’m going to break her silence, and you all will dance with joy at my plight. Who do you really worship, my friend?"

"We worship Brajeshwari Radha, the daughter of Vrishabhanu," they declared proudly. "Do you understand, Giridhari?"

With a shared enthusiasm, Krishna and his friends set off towards Radha’s in-laws’ house. They carried trays filled with kumkum, sandalwood, and vibrant colored powders. Some held garlands, while others sprinkled Yamuna water joyfully. Peacock feathers adorned their hair, and wild fruits swung in baskets, ready to be made into garlands.

Even God himself seemed to walk with them, and their joy knew no bounds. Shyamsundar held a water sprayer, while his friends carried colored powders. As they walked, they splashed colors on everyone they met, spreading the festive spirit of Vrindavan.

The paths of Vrindavan came alive with vibrant colors. The people of Braj sang with joy, their songs filling the air. To the rhythm of their melodies, Krishna’s group began to dance around him.

"Haha, what joy!" exclaimed one of the friends, laughing. "Oh, what a wonderful joy!"

Krishna's heart swelled with happiness, his face radiant with divine joy. "Look, how strange and delightful this joy is for me," he mused aloud.

"When you speak of this joy, it seems to multiply even more," another friend said, beaming.

"I can see that divine joy dancing on your face too, my lord," a wise sage among them noted. "It makes me feel blessed."

"Even though it's not the full moon of Vrindavan," Krishna replied, his voice filled with warmth, "my heart feels like it's dancing at the feet of the divine."

"Blessed are you, my lord," they all chanted together. "Blessed is Hare Krishna, Hare Krishna, Hare Krishna."

"Yes, you are truly a part of Lord Hari, my lord," one of the friends said with reverence. "Through you, we can see the essence of joy. Your eyes, face, and body all reflect Vrindavan, my lord. Everywhere is the presence of that sacred land."

"Oh wise sages," Krishna responded, his voice gentle and wise, "you are truly knowledgeable. You know that one must always remain a devotee. We should never stray from Krishna. I have come to speak of the divine play of the supreme lord. May the wishes of that infinite soul be fulfilled. I am merely an instrument in his hands."

And so, with hearts full of devotion and joy, Krishna and his friends continued their journey, the vibrant colors of Vrindavan surrounding them like a living tapestry of divine love.

Chapter 4: The Festival of Colors

The air was filled with the melodious chant of "Hare Krishna, Hare Krishna, Krishna Krishna, Hare Hare, Hare Rama, Hare Rama, Rama Rama, Hare Hare." The sweet sound seemed to echo throughout Vrindavan, weaving a tapestry of devotion and joy. Amongst the vibrant hues of the festival, a young devotee approached his teacher with a heart full of curiosity.

"My lord," he pleaded, eyes wide with wonder, "please tell me the stories of Krishna. Share the tales of his divine play with me."

The teacher, a wise and calm figure, gently reassured him, "Kindly stay calm, dear student. Who else will guide you to liberation? Have mercy, my lord, have mercy."

The wise teacher nodded, a reassuring smile on his face. "Do not be afraid, king," he said, his voice steady and comforting. "I will not leave without telling you the main story. Now, let me tell you about the queen of Vrindavan, Srimati Radhika."

As the music of the festival played on, Krishna and his friends made their way to the house of Hayan Ghosh. The air was thick with anticipation.

"Ram Ram Hare Hare, what happened, Madhav?" one friend asked, noticing Krishna had stopped. "Why have you stopped? Come, won't you go see the queen of Vrindavan?"

Krishna shook his head with a mysterious smile. "You all go, friends. I will stay here."

"Why? Are you afraid, Mukunda Murari?" another friend teased. "Really, are you scared? Oh, creation and universe! People call upon you to overcome their fears, and yet you are afraid! What new play is this, Madhav? How many more will we see, Krishna?"

Krishna chuckled softly. "No, no matter how hard you try, I won't forget your words, friends. You go, take my water gun, the plate of colors, and the sandalwood paste. I won't go."

The friends exchanged knowing glances. "Yes, we will leave, and then you'll turn towards Vrindavan, isn't that right, Krishna? That's not happening, we won't let you go today. You can't win every day, Madhusudan. Today is our day, we won't let you go anywhere."

Krishna shrugged playfully. "Yes, I understand, your strength has increased in the queen's kingdom. No, don't be afraid, I never run away, I never run. Waiting is my nature. You go without worry, I will stay here. Even if you don't return, I won't go anywhere."

With laughter and camaraderie, the friends, armed with colors, water guns, and songs, set off to call on Radharani.

At Ayan Ghosh's house, his mother Jotila and sister Kutila resided with him. The streets of Vrindavan were alive with the festival of colors, the people of Braj drenched in hues and joy. But Jotila and Kutila were different. They stood apart from the celebrations, their faces devoid of smiles, their hearts seemingly untouched by the festivity.

"It's quite surprising, my lord," the king mused, "how in a place where Sri Radha herself resides, and where Shyamsundar is present, such unpleasant people can exist!"

The teacher nodded wisely. "Where there is good, there is also bad, King. Where there is light, there is also darkness. If the whole world were filled with light and there was no darkness, King, would we truly understand the glory of light? Would people value light so much?"

The king considered this and nodded in agreement. "No, my lord, that's true. It's because there is darkness that we need light; otherwise, it wouldn't have any special importance."

"This play of opposites is seen everywhere in creation, King," the teacher continued. "If everyone were good, honest, and virtuous, we wouldn't understand their greatness, King. Why would God need to come? Because without the pot of sin being full, the divine play of avatars doesn't begin, King, it doesn't."

"I understand, Acharyadev," the king replied, still pondering the complexity of it all, "but it's quite surprising that in Sri Radha's house, there are people with such dark hearts. She accepts everyone. She gives shelter to all. No one is rejected by her. They can all stay with her without worry."

"And besides," the teacher added, "without Jotila and Kutila, the enjoyment of Radha-Krishna's divine play wouldn't be possible."

The king nodded, understanding dawning in his eyes. "Do you understand, King?"

"Yes, my lord," the king said, his doubts melting away. "I have no more doubts. Now I understand everything clearly."

Meanwhile, the friends, singing and dancing, went to meet Radharani. But to their surprise, Sri Radha turned away from them. Despite their many requests, it was of no use. She wouldn't go to play with colors. Radharani sat quietly by the window, her face clouded with sadness, as if the joyous hues of the festival could not reach her heart.

Chapter 5: The Colors of Devotion

The air of Vrindavan felt heavy with unspoken sorrow. If the queen of Braj, Radharani, did not join the color festival, all the vibrant hues would fade into nothingness. The friends were worried, and even Shyamsundar's face had turned pale. How could the festival of colors be celebrated with such heavy hearts?

The friends gathered around Radharani, trying to persuade her. "Why are you so upset, Rai?" one of them asked gently. "You're only hurting yourself by being upset with Shyam. Do you think we haven't noticed your tears? Come on, friend, come out. On a day like today, you shouldn't shed tears, Radhe."

Radharani shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. "No, friend, you go and enjoy. I'm fine here. Does everyone fit in everywhere?"

"But why should you wait for me, King? Have we ever gone anywhere without you?" another friend implored. "What joy is there without you, Radha? Without you, all the colors fade. Even the peacocks of Vrindavan don't spread their feathers without seeing you."

Radharani sighed, a hint of frustration in her voice. "I see that even you've been touched by those made-up stories. Who taught you all this, my friend? Where did you learn this language? You think you're the only one who can be proud? Don't we have any pride? Don't we love you or understand you that we need to use someone else's words? You've hurt me deeply, Rai. Is this how you saw us all this time?"

"Don't be angry, my friend, don't be angry," another friend said softly, reaching out to her. "I didn't mean to hurt you knowingly. You know my heart isn't in a good place. But why would I hurt you? You are my life."

"Alright, if we really are your life, then promise us one thing, Radha," one of the friends insisted. "Tell us, friend, you will surely call us. Come outside just once. Shyam has come, my friend, and is standing quietly a little away from your house. Won't you play with colors? Shyam said he would stand there all day. And if Shyam doesn't play with colors, then all of Vrindavan won't touch the colors either."

Radharani looked at her friends, her heart softening. "Don't be upset anymore, my friend, come outside, dear. Look, Shyam is hurting, and so are you. Even Vrindavan will sit with a sad face. Tell me, will that be good, friend?"

She finally relented, a soft smile breaking through her sadness. "Alright, let's go then. I can't refuse your words, my friend. Let's go, but my plate of colors isn't ready yet."

The friends beamed with joy. "We've all brought colors for you, Radha. All of Shyamsundar's colors are yours. Why need a new plate? All the colors of this land are yours. Come, friend, let's go to Shyam."

As Radha stepped outside with her friends, it was as if joy spread through Vrindavan. Her friends began to shower flowers on her head. They adorned her with red powder and sandalwood paste. Someone tied her hair and placed a garland in it. Someone else put flower bracelets on her wrists. Around her neck, they placed a flower necklace. With these cherished signs, Radha stood before Shyamsundar.

Shyam stood there with teary eyes. Seeing Radha, a shiver ran through his blue form, as if the banks of the Yamuna were breaking in his eyes. The friends offered a plate of colored powder. From that plate, Shyam took a handful of color and bowed down. He gently applied the color to Radha's feet.

Radha was startled, her eyes wide with surprise. "What are you doing, Krishna? What are you doing? Oh, this will be a sin for me. Why did you do this, Lord?"

Krishna looked up at her with deep devotion. "I am always devoted to you. And I am your devotee, Radha. If I don't worship your feet, then whom will I worship, dear? Place your feet on my hands, Radha. Today, I will offer all my colors to these feet, O Narayana."

In that moment, the colors of Vrindavan came alive, vibrant and full of joy, as if echoing the devotion in Shyam's heart and the love in Radha's eyes.

Chapter 6: The Watchful Eyes

The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the vibrant fields of Vrindavan. The air was alive with the laughter and chatter of Radha and her friends as they frolicked in the colors of Holi. But amidst the joyous scene, two pairs of eyes watched with growing suspicion.

Radha's mother-in-law, Jatila, stood with her arms crossed, her brow furrowed in disapproval. She had never been fond of Radha, whose beauty and grace seemed to overshadow her own daughter, Kutila. The whispers of Krishna's frequent visits to Vrindavan only fueled her distrust, and today, those whispers seemed louder than ever.

"Kutila," Jatila called, her voice sharp with determination. "Did you see what happened today? Your precious sister-in-law slipped away once more, with her giggling friends in tow. And you stood by, doing nothing!"

Kutila, her expression a mix of annoyance and resignation, nodded. "Yes, Mother. I saw. But what can we do? Radha is always surrounded by her friends."

Jatila huffed, her eyes narrowing. "We must find out where she goes and with whom. We cannot let this continue unnoticed. Go, follow her. Keep your eyes open and report back to me."

Kutila hesitated, glancing uneasily at the bustling streets outside. "But, Mother, it's so crowded. What if I lose her in the throng?"

Jatila placed a firm hand on her daughter's shoulder. "Then we shall go together. They may deceive you, but they cannot deceive me. We will catch them today, and I will show Radha that her games are over."

With determination steeling their hearts, Jatila and Kutila set out into the lively streets of Vrindavan. The festivities of Holi were in full swing, with colors flying and laughter echoing through the air. But their eyes were fixed only on the path ahead, seeking the one face they knew too well.

Amidst the swirling crowd at Govardhan Hill, they finally spotted Radha, her radiant presence unmistakable. Jatila's suspicions hardened into certainty. Grabbing Kutila's hand, she turned back towards home, her mind racing with plans to confront her son about his wife's escapades.

As they hurried away, the echoes of Krishna's laughter and Radha's joyous spirit lingered in the air, a testament to the love and devotion that even the most watchful eyes could never truly contain.

---

And so, the tale continues, woven from the sacred texts of Sage Vedavyasa's Srimad Bhagavatam and the Garg Samhita. The story of Krishna unfolds, each chapter a testament to the timeless dance of love and devotion.

The drama was brought to life by the talented voices of Sukhdeb Shubhajit Chatterjee as Parikshit, Spandan Das as Young Krishna, Gairik Dasgupta as Friend, Asmita Mukherjee as Pal, Sunayna Bhowmik as Radha, Gargi Chattopadhyay as Jatila, and Pradipta Manna as Kutila. Adapted for the stage by Mahua Banerjee, with sound recording and effects by Satyajit Sen, and sound design and mixing by Sabyasachi Mukherjee. Directed by Shaoli Majumdar, with creative direction by Indrani Chakraborty, and produced by Pastel Entertainment. Brought to you by Times of Puran on Mirchi Bangla YouTube channel and Gaana app.