"Suni jo teri Murali, Chali re , chali re, chali re Piya more o julmi!"
After a week...
"Chitraa! Chitra! Where is she?" Devaki's voice echoed through the corridors as she stepped into the common chamber, where Vasudev and Rohini sat in quiet conversation. Her face was filled with urgency, her eyes scanning the room in search of the mischievous children.
Rohini looked up, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "What happened, Devaki? Why are you so flustered?"
"Jiji, these children haven't eaten their breakfast, and now they are nowhere to be found!" Devaki exclaimed, exasperation lacing her words.
At this, Vasudev and Rohini exchanged amused glances before breaking into gentle laughter. Rohini rose and guided Devaki to a seat beside her, patting her hand reassuringly.
"Let it be, Devaki," she said with a serene chuckle. "They devoured two whole pots of fresh makhan at dawn. How could they still be hungry?"
Devaki sighed but remained unconvinced. "Still, where have they disappeared?" she wondered aloud.
Just then, Balram and Revati entered, their presence exuding calmness.
"Mata, they must be somewhere within the palace grounds. There's no need to worry—" Balram began, but his words were abruptly cut off.
A sound, soft yet powerful, floated through the air, wrapping around them like a divine embrace. The melodious tune of a flute, ethereal and otherworldly, resonated from the palace gardens.
In an instant, they knew.
Without another word, they moved towards the source of the celestial music, drawn as though by an invisible force. As they stepped into the garden, their eyes beheld a vision that seemed beyond the realm of mortals—a moment suspended in time, drenched in divinity.
There, beneath the shade of blooming kadamba trees, the Supreme Protector on a golden swing playing his most melodious tune and the Eternal AdiShakti dancing, swaying gently in harmony with the breeze. The enchanting flute rested against Krishna's lips, each note he played weaving a spell upon the very fabric of existence.
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The world itself had stilled. Birds, mid-flight, hung motionless in the sky. The deer and peacocks stood frozen, captivated. Even the leaves seemed reluctant to rustle, lest they disturb the sacred melody.
It was as if creation itself had paused, lost in the divinity of Krishna's flute.
As they reached the garden, the sight before them was nothing short of magical. Krishna and Chitraa (Subhadra) sat on a swing, swaying gently in the breeze, completely lost in their own world. Krishna's flute sang a melody so enchanting that even nature had surrendered. Birds perched silently on branches, the cows stood still as if in a trance, and a squirrel clung to a tree trunk mid-climb, eyes wide in admiration. The peacocks, who usually demanded attention, had humbly set aside their dancing to listen.
