And yet, there he was. His Kanha, his little baby, the very life and soul of the land he stood upon. All grown up now, and yet as pure as an infant. Years passed by him as he thought of the day he had first held the little blue boy in his arms. The first time he had looked into his twinkling little eyes, the first time he had heard "baba" in his voice, the first time his baby fingers had held his hand... and then that fateful day when he had looked at his precious little one for the last time. All of it came back to him in a flash that rendered him speechless. He could neither move nor speak. He simply stood there, taking in the image of his blue boy, making up for years and years of torturous deprivation.
...
Kanha, meanwhile, was already down on his knees, sliding his baba's feet into the shoes, all the while washing them with tears. He couldn't even bear to look up at that old, loving face he had been dying to see. Neither could he dare show him his own, all wet with tears and love and all sorts of feelings pouring out after decades. All around, Dwarkawaasis were gazing at each other and talking in hushed whispers. They had seen a similar meeting with Sudama, but nobody had ever seen Dwarkadheesh cry and melt like that, ever.
As he put his forehead to those feet, eyes closed in ecstasy, one single word escaped his choked throat.
"Baba..."
That was what brought NandBaba out of his trance, and the next instant he was already pulling Kanha to his heart. As the father-son duo clung on to each other, both of them crying their hearts out, years of separation melted away. Kanha was suddenly sixteen again, the mischievous teenager being pampered and protected by his doting father. In those warm arms, he felt his body relax and his muscles ease. It felt like snuggling into your favourite bed after a long and tiring day. Only that here it wasn't just a day, it was years of worrying and fighting... years of being homeless in a big, bad world.
All his life, Krishna had been the protective one for people around him. He had fought wars, guided, advised, comforted, listened and just been there. That day, after years of being the universal, undisputed pillar of strength, all he could do was collapse. Collapse into the warm, loving, protective embrace of his baba, someone he knew would be there, would listen, would fight the world for him and yet won't ever let him feel even the slightest discomfort. That blessed day, he was home.
...
After what seemed like ages, baba finally let go. He took one step back, looking directly at Kanha, and said, "tu toh abhi bhi waisa hi dikhta hai re Kanha!" The sheer admiration, relief, and love in his eyes was that of a man who had just got back his reason to live, after an eternity of living without purpose.
Smiling through the tears, almost chuckling at the innocence, he replied, "keval dikhta nahi baba, main swayam bhi bilkul pehle jaisa hi hun! Ekdum waisa jaisa aap apne Kanha ko jaante hain!" Although he had tried very hard to keep it hidden, by the end of the sentence the shiver in his voice was obvious. It is, after all, not very easy to hide your tears, especially when they've been shut and suppressed for decades.
Baba smiled a little at this. True, his boy hadn't changed at all. He was still their charming chhaliya, making them all dance to the enchanting tune of his witty words. Not knowing what else to say at this point, he simply stretched out his hand. Kanha almost jumped on to it, holding it as tight as he could, making both of them laugh through their tears.
As they moved towards the town, people came flocking in to have one look at their love. Some were simply too stunned to move, some had fainted, while some others were all around Kanha – touching his face, his hands, his feet just to make sure he was real. He had obviously expected such an overwhelming amount of love, but the reality had swept him off his feet. Not just their love, it was his own myriad of feelings that he hadn't expected. It was all as new for him as it was for them. All he could do was try to cheer them up by taking their names like he used to, joking around, asking if they had forgotten him, all the while barely hiding his own tears. The people of Vrindavan, knowing that their Kanha won't like seeing their misery either, were all playing along. There were taunts and jokes plenty, all mixed with tears of joy and relief. The milkmaids were telling him how they didn't even miss him one bit, even while their eyes never left his face and their tears darkened his peetambar. Such is love, and such is its depth!
