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krsnaradhika · 5 months

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Sempiternal : Krishāvyayam.

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To me, you are the only sempiternal. You are my serenity and my restlessness at once. My serendipity and magic. You are so beautiful- the man of my poetries.

I am fortunate to have you, my beloved. I shall await you in our paradise, in the arcade that shall await us someday. I love you. I love you. I'll always love you.

She slipped from his grasp like sand from between taut fists. The universe was here to steal her from him again, like it did everytime. There's nothing too novel to his bruise, yet nothing seemed as agonizing as it was.

He was swarmed in the aphrodisiacs his mind deluded him with, the visions of a whimsical damsel, the waters called to him. Between shivering hands and sweat glazed skin of swarth, he caught hold of the stallion’s harness and raced through the grass mist, smelling of earth petrichor and orphic sandalwood. The rumbling rain’s messengers, phantoms of brontides and frosty zephyrs were adding to the desperation that was in him, bleeding for a mallacht that was hers and he grew restless in. Oh if the intoxication of being human wasn't getting to his lovelorn heart.

Krishna’s stalwart gaze traversed nowhere from where a distant flame crackled, an enchantress with bows and arrows lurking in the shadows of the Ashoka trees, she was the goddess of the night. Through misty grass and biting cold of the dusk, he ceased where she planted roses of dalisay. “Mohini,” he said, and the princess with her giggling and flustering handmaidens buzzing around met his eyes in surprise, “I need you to come with me.”

“Are you well Kanha? You shouldn't be out at this hour, Panchala’s hair has grown cruel in these winters and you haven't even taken a shawl-”

“Not now about it, please,” he heaved, a hand yet engaged to prod the spotless horse that carried the almighty while the other ached to hold her in it. Shri’s eyebrows of a bow’s image met at their juncture and she maundered through the hay and flowers like the moon escaped from thundering clouds. “Come with me.”

“Sakhi, let Pita Maharaja and Jyeshtha Bhagini know that I shall be back shortly. Worry less, I'm going to be safe,” she crooned to the companion with goodwill who looked positively her way. The grin and sororal ways were saying it all.

She didn't ask where. She didn't have to know. There's no shame in love and no bindings when it comes to him. Strangely enough no questions and clawing monsters came to her thoughts when he did. There was never any interrogation attached to him. And so like the abhisarika heroine of an ancient aesthetic dance she put her arm in his and Kanha pulled her up, settling her ahead of him as the carrier of hope neighed in delight. The ivory quadruped did not need any coaxing for then it raced ahead to the paths of teal forests and elysian esoteric, the hero of the era and the princess of the flares clasped in each other.

“I need you to trust me”

“I know, I do. What is it, you do not seem serene?”

Her rising and falling bosom and curly ringlets cascading to her cheeks, the bit chapped lips and intoxicating eyes were adding to the beauty that was the nightfall. Kanha wondered where the moon was at first but then an epiphany came that it was sitting in his embrace all along, tidying the folds of his yellow brocade silks while blushing in divine lotuses. “I need you to tell me something. Something has to be confirmed. Do I scare you?”

“Never. The future does, yes. But the past that has been shared with you and this present that blocks all other thoughts can never. I want to see this pristine beauty that you are, ever in milks and honey and thus- thus you heed to my pleas. Let go of being so headstrong, the gods and these deceiving stars have never been kind to me.

I've thought this through. I have only ever been yours, but I don't want the moon to be stained crimson from my faults. Accept my apologies for being so brusque that time my love, I was n-not-”

She gasped when the horse halted to crystalline blue showers and breathtaking verdant cliffs. Simultaneously the moon appeared from behind the clouds as the frogs croaked hopping into stagnant green waters, cuckoos cooed yet and the papiha called for his lover. The azure of her lehenga camouflaged with her beloved's sapphire skin and he descended to grace the arrow arum flowers with the genial touch of his fingers, blowing where the dandelions swayed. The butterflies in Kamalnayani's core danced to the tunes of his flute and she was wide-eyed at the romance this picturesque vista was, longing for a love that she had presumed to be star-crossed.

“Kanha, this- this place. It's stunning and I'm not in my senses anymore-”

“If you say no, I will leave with my family and return only when you let me be yours. If yes, I'll take you to an utopia where I don't pledge a stormless sea but an unsinking boat. For the final time, it's your call and nobody is compelling you. Listen to what your heart of heart has to say, and let me know. I respect you as a person before my love for you.”

Enough with the suffocations, please.

Madhusudana had long forsaken the vibrant headgear and the extravagant crowns the moment he had decided to let go of his apprehension and then he charged out of his chambers in haste. The peacock feathers of Hari were glued to her opal bracelets and his hair now fell to his shoulders, unbounded and unruly, and he ran a hand through them to push away the cool droplets soaking them. Kanakangi, the woman of gold as the world called her, was starstruck and in catharsis yet again. The universe was notorious for their agape love.

“I promise you and the universe, O damsel of faultless spirits, that the curse inflicted upon your stars is mine too. The last blood moon that paints the future grotesque, was from a crime committed by the both of us in a birth you do not remember.”

Kamalnayani staggered a step as beads decked her honey eyes, blood coming to her mouth. She wished to run into his arms and run away from the last destined wound that fate would bring to her at the same time. She was weaker with every plea of his and whatever came ahead, would ruin the both of you. But not to destruction, never to destruction.

“Abandoning every uncertainty and fear, every dharma and conflict that plagues your conscience, put faith in me that I'll not let everything flow away like the queen taken away. Every curse that is yours and so mine too, for I cannot escape from the labyrinth of your soul and everything that you are, Svaha’s heiress to her grit.”

Kanha let one of his knees buckle in as he fell to the tawny soil with a thud, a thousand years flashing before his burning ethereal vision as she swallowed the pain that was his too. She hurt him and yet he was here. She knew she would do it again, so stained with ignorance. [When will you learn to be only yours, Chittachora? When will you go alone for the country that awaits you, the Bharatavarsha that laments in wars undeclared? Do you not deem me able to carry this curse alone, even if the punishment is of the both of us?]

[Let me have it too, Mohini. Let me have my share too but don't drain me of life by your fear of the togetherness of the both of us and disrespect the goddess you are by your detestation for your ownself. Do not take away the love in your veins that is for me. Let me be the fortunate one, let me have your heart like you've robbed me off mine.]

“Will you be my wife?”

I promise you, I will not go anywhere. There's no curse, no blessing, no hex that I won't shatter for you. I will never leave your side, I can never.

He was an art. The brawn biceps of his straining in the emotions that conquered him whole, the lips of his colored lilac at their commissure as they flaunted a blush pink shade, he was the kalopsia she wished to revel in. He was an art. He awaited the heartbreaking atelier.

She tasted salt on her mouth and sobbed because he did too, almost. She shook and trembled while hearing him so in her consciousness, ever known to his quintessence. As the stygian took over, the moon and the stars eager to let these sweethearts unite with fervor, Mohini caved into the trance that he bestowed upon her, burying her face in his neck, “Yes, yes, yes!”

#FUCK SLOW BURN I'M REVAMPING A BIT OF THE PRE-WEDDING PART OF MY KRISHNA X OC NOVEL #kamalnayani is my oc as i once mentioned earlier #anyway enjoy this proposal that I've hallucinated for far too long #to my watty readers #I've rewritten the 16th and 19th chapter of the book so fuck yeah #krishnablr #kanha #gopiblr #desiblr #krishna my beloved <3 #dhruvi writes #so like the chapters previously titled “on consent and will” and “haridra utsavam” are now “sempiternal” and “rumour has it” respectively #I'll also rewrite the 13th and all the wedding chapter #+ many other chapters I've lost count of at this point #anyways lemme know how you liked kanha and hridayaa

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ek-ladki-bheegi-bhagi-si · 4 months

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Of Shirts and Sweet Nothings

Vidyut x Reader

Summary: The one where it became a nightly ritual for her to "steal" his shirts (is it really stealing though, if he gives her a free reign to take them?)

Vidyut's Masterlist | Main Masterlist

THIS STORY IS COPYRIGHTED. I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO ANYONE TO POST MY FICS ANYWHERE IF YOU FIND THEM ON ANY ACCOUNT/MEDIA PLEASE REPORT IT, IT HAS BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY CONSENT.

In their cosy little bedroom, Vidyut and his divine prepared for another evening together. As she entered the room, Vidyut, from his seat on the bed, looked up from his book and froze. His eyes widened, and a delighted smile formed on his lips as he beheld his love, who was wearing his favourite shirt, his most cherished shirt, the one he always wore to bed.

"You... you look adorable," Vidyut said, his heart overflowing with an array of emotions, affection being the most prominent one. He put his book aside and walked over to her, unable to tear his gaze away from her. She blushed at his heartfelt words, feeling a warm and fuzzy sensation spreading through her. She twirled around, the shirt billowing around her, and couldn't help but giggle at the look of sheer adoration in Vidyut's eyes.

Without hesitation, Vidyut gently pulled Divine into a loving embrace, his arms encircling her petite frame as he swayed along with her softly, a dance of love and tenderness, right in the heart of their bedroom.

"You're my sunshine," Vidyut whispered, "Seeing you in my shirt makes me fall in love with you all over again. You make me fall in love with you every day with these cute antics. Having you here with me, sharing this special moment is the best gift I could get." his proclamation was sudden but welcoming, filled with affection.

Divine snuggled closer, Vidyut's warmth enveloping her like a cosy blanket "It was just there and it smelled like you. It’s so comfortable, I’m never giving it back. You know, your proclamations of love make me feel like the luckiest person in the world. I feel safe and loved, just being here with you."

As they sat on the edge of the bed, their fingers intertwined, they whispered sweet nothings and exchanged playful banter. Laughter filled the air, echoing the love that danced between them. In the tender silence that followed, Vidyut softly kissed Divine's forehead, his love shining through his gentle touch. "You're divine and you’ve forever etched an imprint of you, in my heart. Let's stay like this, wrapped in each other's love, forever and always."

Her eyes sparkled with joy as she nuzzled against Vidyut's chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. "Your arms feel more like home than any house ever did. Everything is better with you. Everything has been better since you," she whispered, her voice filled with unwavering devotion. They stayed cuddled in each other's arms, their love blossoming with every passing second. The moon peeked through the curtains, casting a soft glow on the room, as they drifted off to sleep, hearts entwined in a tale of eternal love.

From that day forward, her nightly ritual of wearing Vidyut's shirt became a symbol, the memory of that adorable night in the bedroom remained etched in their hearts, reminding them of the little moments that brought them closer with each passing day.

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Hellooo~ it's someone who's not been able to post for a while, How are we? and what do we think of the fic?

Tags-

@mad-who-ra @vijayasena @kanha-sakhi @nerdreader @athena-roy @warnermeadowsgirl

Let me know if you wanna be tagged and you will be added to the list!

Enjoy ❤️

#if i had a rupee for every time i daydream of this #id be a Billionaire #vidyut jammwal x reader #vidyut jammwal imagines #vidyut jamwal #vidyut jammwal #devi <3

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janaknandini-singh999 · 9 months

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"I can't do that to swami!" Rukmini was appalled "What if he doesn't talk to me ever again?"

"Rukmini, love, your dear husband is literally the God of MISCHIEF. Why should he have all the fun? Ok fine, think of it as competition." Radha grinned

Rukmini stopped in her tracks and pursed her lips. She tended to forget that Shri Krishn once had a life before he had met her. She tended to forget this because for her, life had begun only after him. Those stories she'd heard of his leelas when she instantly fell for him, the mere thought of being close to him would kill all the miseries she was going through in the palace, the day her father decided on marrying her off, the stormy night. It was pouring outside but in her chamber her tears were raining and she was pouring all her heart out on the letter. The letter to him. And when she finally saw him, met his eyes, he was more beautiful than she had ever imagined, his hands taking hers into a new life. She smiled but was suddenly pulled back into reality as Radha's hand gently closed upon hers. Rukmini glanced up at Radha and sighed. There was something about Shri Krishn's Radha that Rukmini couldn't pinpoint. She'd admit that she had felt a pang of envy towards his other wives, his gopis. But never Radha. There was something so peculiarly enchanting about her which wouldn't let you feel anything negative towards her, or towards anyone in the world for that matter, when you were in her sharan. Just like how it was with her Shri Krishna. She always felt this comfort with Radha, a sakhi, a sister she never had. Her throat throbbed.

"Oh, Rukmini.." Radha hugged her before the tears could even come out of Rukmini's eyes, as if she knew. She just always knew. Everything.

"Was swami really that much...... mischievous?" Rukmini laughed in her arms

"Oh, you thank your devtas that you weren't a gopi in Vrindavan! Stealing maakhan and our clothes when we are BATHING! Hypnotizing us to make pakwaan for him, then bursting those very matki in which we carry them, getting us in trouble, then just smiling and dancing it away. That natkhat boy would've annoyed yet mesmerized you so, you would've completely lost your mind!"

Rukmini thought "only if Radha knew I would give anything to be a gopi, to be rendered senseless only to fall in his grace"

As if reading her mind, Radha whispered "but if you really look at it, maybe all who love kanha are just a gopi at heart."

Rukmini gasped amusedly and raised her eyebrows "Even Sudama ji?"

Radha nodded and giggled "even Sudama ji."

Rukmini stretched and lay her head in her sakhi's lap as her sakhi stroked Rukmini's hair and looked up at the sky

"So? What's the plan for our prank? Let's take a sweet revenge for all the sweet atrocities caused on the gopis by our beloved" Rukmini rolled over and winked at Radha who laughed so loud and hugged her tighter than ever

"Now, that's MY sakhi!"

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ramayantika · 1 year

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प्रतीक्षा

The whole village has gone to sleep. Not a sound can be heard. The cool night breeze is blowing just lightly, without letting a leaf rustle in the forest. The village guards too are dozing as the wind lulls their eyes to sleep.

But, there is one boy in the village whose sleep has been robbed off. The young youthful milk maidens of Vraja often talk about this boy amongst themselves and with their dear companions as the boy who robs their sleep and peace with his lovely face and smile.

'He comes in my dreams and steals sweet butter from my pot. When I reprimand him, he smiles sweetly and kisses my cheek. But, when my eyes open at dawn, I find my mother sprinkling water over my face.'

'Isn't he such a charming lad? I don't think there would be any other handsome boy apart from him in all the three worlds.'

The boy in this conversation is none other than the darling child of Yashoda, wife of Nanda Maharaj, who was also the chief of the cowherd community. He was the most beautiful child in Vraja and in adolescence, handsomeness was naturally bestowed upon him.

Skin as dark as the magnificent monsoon clouds, curly hair as soft as silk which sported a band or sometimes a crown of peacock feathers. His limbs were annointed with fragrant sandalwood paste which made his presence distinct from the other boys of Vrindavan. His eyes shaped like beautiful lotus petals, and when he would bat his eyelashes at any maiden passing by his path, she was bound to lose her heart to him. He would often wear yellow clothes and strut the streets of Vrindavan with his friends while causing mischief that annoyed the womenfolk on the outside, but on the inside, they were delighted each time he and his friends would engage in pranks, for then they would have a glimpse of his divine form.

What's his name?

He goes by many names. For Yashoda, he is Kanha. The cowherds call him Gopal, the protector of the cows. The elder males sometimes call him Nandlal, the son of Nanda. Young girls who fawn over him call him Mohan, the one who enchants and sometimes they refer to him as Madanmohan, for he is attractive than the Love God, Kama also called, Madan. He is Muralidhar for he is always seen with a flute on his lips and is called Krishna by all for his noticeable dark monsoon cloud complexion.

When he plays his flute, all the gopis and cows throng to the forest, enchanted by his melodious tunes. The ladies would make amusing excuses to leave their house on time to meet this charming boy on the riverbank of Yamuna, then why was this boy all alone in a flower bower deep in the forest with eyes gazing longingly at the moon that was soon to disappear amongst the night clouds?

A certain maiden of Vraja bhumi has stolen Krishna's heart. She walks with the grace of a swan and her voice is sweeter than the koyal. Her fair complexion pales the beauty of the moon for she is far dazzling than the Purnima moon. She possesses curly hair just like Krishna and decorates it with flowers and beautiful ornaments. With jingling bangles on her wrists and jewelled ankle bells, she dances with him on some nights in the heart of the forest. Those bangles and anklets themselves play a mellifluous melody in rhythm with Krishna's flute.

Wouldn't such a beauty charm this notorious charmer? What is her name?

She is Radha, the daughter of Vrishbhanu.

"What is taking her so long? She is never this late." Krishna murmurs to himself as his fingers gently caress the back of a baby squirrel that has nestled itself on his thigh. "Look, even you have fallen asleep waiting for your dear Radha."

Time passes by. The chirping crickets have given themselves to sleep, but there is no sign of jingling anklets making way into the forest. No boat is rowing down the river. The forest is empty.

The silver moon has donned a dark golden robe around her it seems. When Krishna had first arrived her, the moon was high up in the sky, illuminating the bower and the entire forest, but now its colour has darkened. In no time will she too go to sleep to make way for dawn.

Sighing, he gently places the baby squirrel down on the ground with his mother. Covering their themselves with leaves and twigs, he mutters, "Looks like, she won't come. I should get back home."

Pulling his uttariya that was hanging from the branches of a tree, he drapes it around his body and rubs his arms. The flower garland in his hand withered a long time ago. A dejected look on his face makes him appear as if all the stars in the night sky have lost their light. Walking down the forest path, he approaches the familiar turning that leads the way to the village when he hears the sound of anklet bells.

His heart soars and he walks faster towards the source, knowing it would be his dear Radha only. For a moment, he wonders why do her anklets sound different. 'Maybe, she is wearing a different pair today.'

He sees a figure draped in a black shawl -- its face covered to avoid any recognition. As the figure approaches closer, he smells the scent of jasmine flowers and roses in the air, as a bright smile adorns on his lips.

He jumps in delight and runs towards her direction. Whatever tiredness that had approached him earlier had disappeared in a jiffy. I do wonder how the arrival of a loved one after a long time feels for the one in waiting. A little jitters and excitement makes house in the heart.

Fair hands gently part away from the shawl, and Krishna wastes no moment in clasping them. "Radhey, I thought you would never come tonight. Even though it's quite late now, but I am glad you did come here. Let's not venture inside the forest now. It would be better we walk on the river bank and talk, and then we both will leave for our homes." He shows her the withered garland. "Oh, and I made you this, but it isn't fresh and vibrant anymore, nor does it," he smells the garland, "emit its fragrance like it did initially. But don't worry, I will make a new one tomorrow when you come to meet me."

The fair hands in Krishna's grasp still and our charming cowherd wonders why Radhika hasn't spoken a single word until now. The hands then slowly slide the shawl from their face making Krishna pull back from his position, a shocked and confused expression all over his features.

"Manjari?!"

"The one and only."

"What are you doing here?"

Manjari removes the shawl and places it over her shoulders. Brushing her braid with her fingers, she says, "You aren't the only one who meets your lover in the forest. I am here to meet Anant."

"Then why do you smell like jasmine and roses. Radha uses that scent and Its pretty distinct." Krishna says dejectedly while pouting that it wasn't his beloved Radha.

Manjari couldn't help but laugh at his plight. "Oh, I actually borrowed it from her. I love that scent and I have been looking for it in the market, but it got over. Anant came back from Mathura after a month, so I decided to surprise him with a new fragrance."

"In that case, I better leave you to meet him while I go home and sulk because my lover hasn't come to meet me. You go and enjoy."

Manjari laughs again and pats his shoulder. "She told me that she was supposed to meet you tonight. She leaves her window open. Check her house, she might have dozed off dreaming about you."

He hums and takes her leave while twirling his flute in his fingers. The sounds of those anklet bells soon fade in the distance and our darling Krishna is alone once again.

****** ******** ******** ******** *******

Bonus addition (I am generous)

"You slept???"

"I don't know how. I was getting ready for you and somehow my eyes drooped while braiding flowers in my hair."

"Manjari was right then."

"I am sorry. I kept you- wait what? What on earth was Manjari doing there?"

"We aren't the only ones who go to the forest alone at night, Radhe"

"Oh. Well, yes, she had told me that Anant was coming back which is why she borrowed my perfume vial."

"Also, it's okay. You need your beauty sleep, besides in a way it serves me right. Haven't I troubled you so many times by reaching late?"

"That has helped come with many creative and convincing ideas to make excuses to my mother, Krishna. I think it's a good exercise."

"Well, let's meet in the evening today then? Don't sleep early."

Both of them laugh and Radhika nods. "Not this time."

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*: ･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Tagging the sakhis: @ma-douce-souffrance @swayamev @inexhaustible-sources-of-magic @pothosinpots @arachneofthoughts @jessbeinme15 @reallythoughtfulwizard @madhoshiyaan @eugenephosgene @lil-stark @pokemon-master-elita @riiddhhiii

#samridhi writes #krishna x radha #vrindavan #krishna fics #desiblr #indian fics #stories

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wewaitinthatspace · 11 months

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I jump from the train, I ride off alone

(this is a radhakrishna fanfic, if you do not like this sort of thing, please don't read it thanks. I do not mean to hurt anyone's religious sentiments)

He had wanted to stay. Despite everything, he had wanted to just stay. He had known, of course, he would have to go. He had screamed the makings of this from the skies the very day his parents had gotten married. He had not only prophesied this but had woven it together himself. Every moment, every thread, every stone placed there by his hand.

And yet.

He had wanted to dive into the currents of time and freeze them in place. Wanted it to change. For his plans to go wrong.

Just so he could have one more moment in the warm, buttery sunlight of Vrindavan.

He had wanted another lifetime of it, really. Had wanted to lay in his childhood crib and look up at his maiya and baba with the sun in their eyes. He had wanted to stay so that he didn’t have to see it melt from their eyes when they realized their son (because he will always be their son) would never be coming back.

He had wanted to go riding in the sunrise with the other gopas and gopis and let their cows graze on the banks of Jamuna while they skipped stones in the river and talked of everything and nothing. He had wanted to bask in their simple smiles and easy love all day long.

And then, when night fell and the river grew too cold, he had wanted to return to his little home, life and warmth spilling out of it like light, his maiya’s loud chatter and his Dau’s quiet laughter filling his every crevice so that he could burst at the seams with joy and love.

He had wanted to keep all the rough cotton, rougher hands and soft laughter in exchange for the fate of the universe.

He had wanted to keep his Radha. Be where she was. Here. In their little world. Feel the stars in her eyes and listen to the bells in her laughter. Dance with her, sing with her. Bask in the kindness of her touch and feel the magic in her every fibre. Hold her hand, build a life with her.

He could see it so clearly. From waking up next to each other to going home together in the evenings. Their own little home on the Jamuna. Woven with flowers and music and laughter. Moulded with Radha’s beautiful hands and nurtured by their love. And kids. Little people who looked like them. He’d teach them to play the flute, and gili danda, show them to pick fruits off the highest tree, and steal makhan from under their mother’s nose. He could almost imagine Radhe's angry reprimands, and the smile she wouldn't be able to hold back. He could almost imagine growing old with her and keeping it all.

And it was the loss of this life, the one he’d never get to live that had killed him.

He had raged, in these desperate moments, he had almost set the tapestry of his plans alight, had gone too far. For her, he would go further. But she had called him back. She had looked him in the eye with her particular brand of stubborn resolve and courage and led him to his destiny. Had watched him board the chariot that would take him away from her and still held firm in her support. And when tears formed in her eyes, he had given her his bansuri and said “Keep her for me until I return?”

And so he had gone. Because he was bound. He had become Vasudev Krishna and left Kanha behind in the hearts of those who loved him most.

He had gone down the dusty path that led to Mathura, his uncle, and his parents. He had followed it to Dwarka and then to Kurukshetra. Eventually, he’ll follow it to Jara, the arrow in his foot and the end of his story.

But before that, he’ll take it to Vrindavan again. One last time. He’ll grant himself that.

He’ll stand on the banks of time and follow a dust road where it ends, the other end, on a door, of a house, where she lives- his Radha.

He’ll hesitate for a second and then knock on that rotten wood. He’ll watch with wonder and love and a heart so whole it might burst as she drops a pot of water in surprise and takes him in her arms as she always has. He will let her pull him in.

He will commit her to memory once again. All the little changes. And the big ones. The things that have not changed. Never will. He will etch her onto his mind. He’ll let himself feel the stars in her eyes, the bells in her laughter, and the magic in her every fibre again.

He’ll let her and the people he has loved in this life become his salvation in their immense divinity as he lays down to wait for the arrow.

companion fic: right where you left me

#I DO NOT INTENT TO HURT ANYONES RELIGIOUS SENTIMENTS PL DONT KILL ME #another radha krishna fanfic #because im obsessed #tell me what you think!#krishna #radha #gopiblr #radha krishna fic #krishna fic #this is a companion fic to #right where you left me

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digicialmedia01 · 8 months

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Exploring the Marvels of Indian Wildlife: A Voyage to Kanha National Park

India's diverse topography harbors a treasury of natural marvels, with its crown jewel being the extraordinary wildlife that inhabits this subcontinent. Amidst the plethora of national parks and sanctuaries dedicated to preserving this wealth, Kanha National Park emerges as a true gem and a haven for wilderness enthusiasts.

Nestled in the heart of India, within the state of Madhya Pradesh, Kanha National Park is celebrated for its pristine wilderness and remarkable biodiversity. Established in 1955, it sprawls over an expansive 940 square kilometers, ranking among India's largest and most meticulously preserved national parks.

Often dubbed as the inspiration behind Rudyard Kipling's classic "The Jungle Book," Kanha captivates visitors with its luxuriant forests, meandering rivers, and an incredibly diverse array of wildlife. The park takes pride in its regal Bengal tigers, stealing the spotlight as its star attraction. Yet, beyond the tigers, Kanha shelters a thriving population of leopards, wild dogs, Indian bison (gaur), barasingha deer, and numerous species of birds and reptiles.

Exploring the wilds of Kanha is an adventure like no other. Jeep safaris and guided nature walks provide a unique opportunity to observe these magnificent creatures in their natural habitat. With its diverse ecosystems comprising dense sal and bamboo forests, vast grasslands, and tranquil water bodies, Kanha paints a captivating canvas for wildlife enthusiasts and photographers alike.

After an exhilarating day immersed in Kanha's wilderness, there's no better place to unwind than "The Celebration Van Vilas Resort." This opulent wildlife resort strategically sits near the Khatia entrance gate of Kanha National Park, offering seamless access to the park's pristine wilderness.

The resort epitomizes rustic charm harmoniously intertwined with modern conveniences. The well-appointed rooms and cottages at The Celebration Van Vilas strike the perfect balance between comfort and a genuine wilderness experience. Imagine waking up to the symphony of the jungle, with the chorus of birdsong during the day and the distant echo of a leopard's roar at night.

The resort's caring and attentive staff go above and beyond to ensure your stay is both unforgettable and comfortable. Whether you require assistance with safari bookings, dietary preferences, or any other request, their service is unwavering.

Dining at The Celebration Van Vilas is an experience in itself. The in-house restaurant offers a mouthwatering selection of Indian and international cuisine, with an emphasis on utilizing fresh, locally sourced ingredients. Every meal is a delightful journey in home-style dining.

Activities Beyond the Safari

While the pinnacle of your Kanha National Park visit will undoubtedly be the wildlife safaris, The Celebration Van Vilas provides an array of activities to enhance your stay. Delve into the world of bird watching, embark on serene nature walks, or simply unwind by the pool, immersing yourself in the natural beauty that envelops you.

In Conclusion

Kanha National Park stands as a testament to India's dedication to preserving its natural heritage, and "The Celebration Van Vilas Resort" complements this commitment by offering a delightful and comfortable haven amidst the wilderness. Whether you're a nature lover, a wildlife enthusiast, or simply seeking a unique and immersive experience in the heart of India, a visit to Kanha National Park and a stay at The Celebration Van Vilas should be at the pinnacle of your travel wishlist. It promises unforgettable encounters with wildlife and the serenity of the jungle, all enveloped in the warm embrace of exceptional hospitality.

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pamelalovenyc · 9 months

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10 Unexpected Travel Destinations for 2023

As avid travelers are always on the hunt for the next untapped destination, 2023 presents a list of surprises. Breaking away from the conventional tourist spots, here's a curated list of 10 unexpected destinations that promise an unparalleled travel experience. Buckle up as we take you on this worldwide tour!

Bhutan: The Kingdom of Happiness

Tucked away in the Himalayas, Bhutan is a mystical Shangri-La. This carbon-negative country measures its success by Gross National Happiness. With its majestic monasteries and vibrant festivals, Bhutan promises tranquility and spiritual rejuvenation.

Georgia: The Crossroads of Europe and Asia

Nestled between Russia and Turkey, Georgia is a hidden gem. From its cobbled streets in Tbilisi to the ancient wine-growing region of Kakheti, this country offers a rich tapestry of history and culture.

Aysén, Chile: Patagonia's Secret

While most tourists flock to Torres del Paine, Aysén in Chilean Patagonia remains a serene escape. With hanging glaciers, verdant forests, and turquoise rivers, Aysén is a dream destination for nature lovers.

Faroe Islands: Europe’s Enchanted Archipelago

Situated between Iceland and Norway, the Faroe Islands are an assembly of 18 volcanic islands. With dramatic landscapes, cliff-top villages, and puffins aplenty, this is a photographer's paradise.

Mongolia: The Land of the Eternal Blue Sky

Experience the vastness of the Mongolian steppes. Spend nights in traditional gers (yurts), witness the Golden Eagle Festival, and immerse yourself in the nomadic culture of this less-explored country.

Madhya Pradesh, India: The Heart of Incredible India

While Rajasthan and Goa steal the limelight, Madhya Pradesh remains India's well-kept secret. From the UNESCO World Heritage sites of Khajuraho and Bhimbetka to the wildlife sanctuaries of Kanha and Bandhavgarh, it offers a diverse platter.

Kyrgyzstan: The Switzerland of Central Asia

Kyrgyzstan, with its untouched landscapes and snow-capped mountains, is a haven for trekkers. Experience the warm hospitality of the locals while enjoying traditional Kyrgyz cuisine.

São Tomé and Príncipe: Africa's Forgotten Islands

Located off the coast of Central Africa, this two-island nation is a biodiversity hotspot. From cocoa plantations to turtle nesting sites, São Tomé and Príncipe present an unspoiled tropical paradise.

Svalbard, Norway: The Arctic Frontier

This polar archipelago is a unique blend of icy wilderness and warm community. From witnessing the Midnight Sun to spotting polar bears, Svalbard is an Arctic dream.

Papua New Guinea: Dive into the Unknown

One of the world's least explored nations, Papua New Guinea is a mosaic of tribal cultures. Dive into the Coral Triangle, witness the Sing-sing tribal gatherings, and hike the Kokoda Track.

Conclusion

As 2023 beckons travelers, these unexpected destinations challenge conventional travel norms. Not only do they offer a fresh perspective, but they also ensure fewer crowds, authentic experiences, and stories that last a lifetime. So, update your travel bucket list and make 2023 the year of unexpected adventures!

Note: Always ensure you check travel advisories and health guidelines when planning to visit any new destination. Safe travels!

#travel #traveling #travel guide

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vrindavan-talkies · 2 years

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[ source : Pinterest ]

* Rim jhim gire saawan plays in the background *

Krishna slips and falls. Radha helplessly laughs standing there. A minute later she slips. * cue Krishna cackling *

#mod miru 🌺#hindu mythology #hindu memes #krishna #hinduism #hare krishna #radha #mahabharata #just another day in vrindavan #kanha stealing hearts #kanha #krishna radha #rain

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vaijayantheee · 4 years

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Radhashtami!

My belated birthday wishes to Vrindavaneshwari, Srimathi Radha-Rani!

The eight Sakhis of Radha get ready for the special dance Krishna has prepared for that special night!

The primary Sakhi of Radha, Lalita Devi adorns herself with the Kasthuri Thilaka, just like the beloved Lord of Vrindavan.

Visakha Devi, always a fan of Krishna’s music, brings him his Venu to play on the mesmerising night of her friend’s brithday!

The one who always faints at the mere thought of Krishna, Champakalata, herself with the Pitambara.

Chitradevi steals the peacock feather off the Chit-Chora much to the surprise of him!

With handmade crocodile earrings that resemble those of Shri Panduranga’s, Tungavidya runs to the abode of the Ras-Leela.

Indulekha carefully picks out a dark blue Saree, ever thinking of Krishna’s exotic hue.

While dancing one night, Rangadevi sees the Mother Lakshmi in Kanha’s shining Kausthubha. She becomes truly enlightened on the real reason Krishna came down to Earth - under the push of Daya Devi (His compassion) - and sports the same colour as the gem.

Sudevi picks out the best flowers of Barsana and carefully creates a Vanamala in the same style as Krishna’s.

The friends gather around the moonlit place of Vrindavan’s forest, on the banks of Yamuna, where all the Gopis come to participate and witness the Lord’s spectacular Ras-Leela...

And at last, comes the birthday girl, with Krishna.

As the friends look on excitedly, they see the two merged together, showing that Krishna is Radha, and She is the representation of pure Bhakti, who sprung from Krishna’s heart to show us mortals the real meaning of devotion.

Jai Bolo Radha Rani Ki!

Jai Shri Krishna!

#radhakrishna #barsanastories #vrindavan #krishna #ninesakhisofradha

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avani008 · 5 years

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Anon requested Krishna, Hogwarts AU, which I’d already answered here, but I love this verse, so here, have more:

The Slytherin common room is chilly at the best of times, but never more so than now, on those rare occasions when Shishupala bestirs himself to taunt the lone Muggleborn in their midst.

“Poor Krishna,” he clucks with mock sympathy, “raised in ignorance. I hear the family still believes elves will do their chores, if they woo them with bread and milk and cheese. That’s never true, is it?”

Krishna meets his gaze levelly. More often than not, he steals away, to study his secrets in peace; but winter and the new curfew put an end to those dreams. He does not know yet, not officially, about the truth of his heritage and the secrets buried in a jail cell across the North Sea, does not know that one day he will look across a room at Shishupala and watch him choke on the word cousin; but he knows enough not to give Shishupala the satisfaction of a response.

Silence has never stopped Shishupala; why should it now? He leans forward, encouraged by the crowd gathering around, and asks. “And I hear you still leave bread and milk and cheese by your bedside, just like a good little boy.”

There is a village full of indignant milkmaids who would laugh themselves to tears to hear of their Kanha ever being called a good little boy, but that doesn’t belong here, not in this room, not now.

Shishupala pauses for effect and wants to know: “Do the house-elves come to you and do your bidding, then? Or are Mudblood tricks only so useful?”

“Sometimes they do,” Krishna replies mildly. “If I ask nicely.”

Sarcasm his housemates delight in; anger they would have rejoiced to find; but half-hearted honesty leaves them helpless. Krishna favors them with one last insincere smile, and ducks, once more, behind The Practical Potioneer.

He knows, as well as Shishupala does, that the house-elves of Hogwarts are bound to the school, forced to obey the demand of any student whether or not they leave presents behind; and he knows that the injustice of it makes him just as angry as it does his brother, fierce and frightening at the pit of his stomach.

But he is not Balarama, to storm and scowl and thrust clothing into unsuspecting house-elves’ hands; no, his is the path of doing what he can do make the elves’ lives slightly more palatable, of presenting himself as distraction whenever he catches a cruel classmate tormenting an elf, of setting his plans in motion for one day destroying this reprehensible system of slavery from the ground up.

He can see the cracks forming, slow but sure; and one day all it will take is a fist--final and unforgiving--to break the glass that keeps them bound and set them free.

He can wait until then--but he knows he won’t wait long.

#mahabharata #krishna #hogwarts au #i honestly feel like different houses would have different ways of trying to solve the house elf problem #and playing the long game is always going to be slytherin's #at the same time social reformer krishna is just my best beloved headcanon #fic and art by me #thanks anon!

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vedic-tales · 4 years

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Prabhupada: And I have known many instances. In Calcutta one very rich man's son, in the evening he would take his bath and dress nicely, and he would go to the Howrah station and beg, cheat, means: "I have lost my purse. Will you kindly help me?" And any gentleman: "He has lost..." And he will go to the restaurant and eat and go home. That was his habit. He was a very rich man, but his habit was this. So we have to change the habit by changing the heart. You know very well. Many thieves, they have committed many times theft and put into the jail. So he knows that "If I commit theft, I will go to the jail." He has practically seen it, and he knows it. Still, he steals. Why? His heart is unclean. So this process will cleanse the heart. Unless he cleans the heart, you cannot stop criminality simply by laws. Laws are already known. The professional thief, he knows the law. The professional murderer, he knows the law. But still, he commits, because heart is unclean. And our process: to cleanse the heart. [Chaitanya charitamrita Antya 20.12], [Let there be all victory for the chanting of the holy name of Lord Krsna, which can cleanse the mirror of the heart and stop the miseries of the blazing fire of material existence. That chanting is the waxing moon that spreads the white lotus of good fortune for all living entities. It is the life and soul of all education. The chanting of the holy name of Krsna expands the blissful ocean of transcendental life. It gives a cooling effect to everyone and enables one to taste full nectar at every step.] This is the process of cleansing the mirror of the heart. Mirror, when it is Sanskrit, "Cleansing the heart." Bhava-maha-davagni-nirvapanam, "Then all the troubles of this material world will be solved." *Ref. VedaBase => Room Conversation with Lt. Mozee, Policeman – July 5, 1975, Chicago* #krishna #ram #harekrishna #Radhakrishna #radha #radhe #radheradhe #prabhupada #iskcon #srilaprabhupada #iskcontemple #radhakrishn #vrindavan #mathura #barsana #kanha #lordkrishna #chanting #haribol #vishnu #RadhaRani #Krsna #Jagannath #VedicTales #bhagavadgita #jaishriram #hanuman #ramayana #rama #shriram https://www.instagram.com/p/CGbwQnYghDi/?igshid=1uao1n5u0ddbk

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ramayantika · 1 year

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Adharam Madhuram

A gopi reader fanfic because I, Samridhi got into her hopeless romantic, yearning phase for Krishna in the middle of studying chemistry but Kanha I still completed this chapter okay. Anyway I will shut up and write this down or this dark curly haired boy will not go away from my head.

Tagging the tumblr gopis (because why must I be the only one to suffer from this heartache that Krishna isn't here in kaliyuga): @ma-douce-souffrance @pothosinpots @eugenephosgene @jessbeinme15 @lil-stark @inexhaustible-sources-of-magic @jukti-torko-golpo @saanjh-sakhi

"Maiya, who is Krishna?"

Krishna. Just the mere mention of his name brings me to a standstill even after all these years. The pestle fell down from my hand with a thud but it's noise could not deafen the sound of my heartbeat in my ears.

"Where did you hear that name, my child?" I hurriedly lifted the pestle from the floor. My daughter, now of seventeen summers answered with a new-found interest. "Well, I wanted to find my green odhni but I found an old box hidden under piles of sarees and my curious self couldn't help but open it and I found these letters to-"

"Krishna." There. I uttered his name after so many years. Not once did I take his name on my lips from the moment I saw him cross the Yamuna. Nor once did he turn back to look at us so even I decided that I would never take his name ever again. If I could control my heart, I would have made sure to forget him. I would forget how beautiful his lips were. I would forget how his voice sounded so sweet, so gentle and so loving just like the soft butter he would steal from us. I would forget how his laugh caused my heart to flutter. I would forget how he walked so gracefully while bringing the cows back from their pastures.

"Maiya, why aren't you speaking? Your lips are quivering. There are tears in your eyes and your hands are shaking."

The Lord of Mathura, I wish I could forget your enchanting flute that urged me to leave the world for you. I wish I could forget the lovely vision of you dancing with me in the forest. I wish I could forget this little story of mine which started with you.

They said that you know the hearts of those who love you. Why did you leave this town then? If you had to leave then couldn't you return for some days to us? Why swear a false promise of friendship and love when you could have simply said that you would never come back.

Your beautiful dark eyes still haunt my dreams, Krishna. You left me by imprinting a gaze that still elicits shivers across my body. For the first time, I saw helplessness in your eyes and maybe some amount of sadness and heartbreak. But, now that you haven't sent me or anyone a letter, I think that it wasn't sadness and heartbreak in those eyes.

Or you want to take revenge on me because I never sent you my letters. You know my heart, you know all the words I have written to you. I hope you have memorized my poetry for you. I hope the moon you sometimes look at reminds me of you. I hope the river Gomati in your kingdom reminds me of my presence near the bank of Yamuna where you showed me the stars.

And I hope, you know that this silent letter, this plea that I have written to you about forgetting you is false. I am ready to bear this pain again and again for you. If fate and time imprison me in Vrindavan, I will gladly stay here and relive every moment with you.

Perhaps then you shall sing me a song, play the flute and dance with me again. You will braid flowers into my hair and show me the moon's reflection in the waters of Yamuna. And you will go away from me once again with the same unending gaze of sadness and defeat because not even Gods get everything they desire.

But, did you love me though?

My young self still wants to hear an answer to this question.

Write me just once please?

"Child, my darling, Krishna was a cowherd your mother loved when she was your age. Alas, he had to go to the big city again and he never turned back for me."

"Is that it? These letters are filled with so much love and longing... "

"As your mother, I would wish that may your heart never bear this sweet pain of heartbreak and loss. But, your mother was once a lover too and this love of hers though gone too soon and too far. This lover gladly embraces this unrequited love."

*****

I think I need to make a tumblr gopi tag list just to share my Krishna posts. If anybody interested, do tell me (kyunki akele nahi jina iss pida mein)

#samridhi writes #Krishna fics #Krishna x gopi #vrindavan #fanfics #Krishna #writeblr #desiblr

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