Krishnapriya Devashree

103. Decisions and resolves

My heart dropped.

"Oh, my Tanu..." I whispered, rushing forward.

I dropped to my knees and scooped him into my arms. His tiny body was burning with frustration, his cries sharp and broken as he pressed himself against my chest. The weight of him was so small, yet it felt like the whole world.

"I'm here," I murmured, rocking him. "I'm right here, baby."

But he didn't stop.

I tried everything, his peacock rattle, the carved one Krishna had made with such pride. I shook it gently, the bells jingling, but Tanu only wailed louder. I reached for the ivory-handled one. Nothing. The soft woolen deer he loved to sleep with? He shoved it away with a pitiful cry.

I was failing.

My hands shook. My heart felt like it was about to tear right out of my chest.

I looked down at him, his little face crumpled with sorrow too big for his small body. And I heard myself ask, in a voice so quiet I wasn't sure he could hear me—

"Are you crying for him?"

His sobs didn't stop. But they changed...slower, heavier, like he was grieving something he didn't even have words for.

"Are you crying for your Pitashree?" I whispered, kissing the top of his warm, damp head. "Is that it, my moon? You miss him? Do you miss Krishna?"

Tanu stopped for a moment and looked right in my eyes.

"Don't miss him, Tanu. You know why? I will tell you why. You shouldn't miss him so much because your father is just plain disappointing.

I couldn't believe that I had just told my son that his father...his powerful father was disappointing. But it wasn't my fault. I was just telling him the truth.

Tanu blinked up at me, those huge, tear-glazed eyes brimming with confusion, with want, with something far too heavy for someone so small. I tucked a curl behind his ear and sighed, cradling his head gently as his sobs slowly ebbed into hiccups.

"I know I shouldn't say this to you," I murmured. "But your father is just.....so puny. You remember you were calling out for him when he was asleep and wasn't waking up? You know what he did when he finally woke up? He didn't ask about you. He didn't ask about me. He didn't even look around to see if we were breathing. He went away to do a Rasleela with his Gopis."

"And now you might wonder...so what if Pitashree did a little dance with his friends? It's not just a dance, Tanu, not something innocent and sweet like the games you'll someday play in the courtyards. No. This one... it's intimate. It's for his precious gopis It's..."

I shouldn't be doing this. My mother would have words with me if she heard what I was telling my child. 

Tanu stared up at me with those wide, trusting eyes. Eyes that didn't yet know betrayal. Eyes that still believed his father was the sun itself.

How do I tell you, my love? How do I explain that the man you adore is the same one who breaks my heart over and over again?

"I can't tell you Tanu. This is not at all for your baby ears. God, I shouldn't be telling you this. You are too innocent and should remain away from your father's deplorable influence."

Especially his Rasleelas. 

The intimate, sacred, all-consuming dance he shares with women who aren't his wife.  He waits for the moon to rise. And then... he calls them. His gopis. They come to him, barefoot and breathless, their hair loose, their bodies trembling with devotion. They adorn themselves.....not just with flowers and jewels, but with vermilion, smeared across their breasts, their thighs, their lips. Marking themselves as his.