Krishna in the cradle
Yasoda lulling Hari to sleep,
Shaking the cradle, cuddling and fondling,
Singing to him a song.
My darling is sleepy
Why doesn’t sleep come along?
Come sleep, come quickly Kanha for you does long.
Sometimes he closes his eyes Sometimes his lips are aflutter.
Thinking he has fallen asleep Yasoda stops her singing.
Awake still, he’s up suddenly
Enjoying Yasoda’s song.
Such joy as Yasoda feels
Is unattainable to the gods.
Chuckling, Kanha came crawling,
Trying to catch his reflection
In the bejewelled courtyard of Nanda.
One moment he would stare at his shadow
Then move his hands to hold it
Chuckling in delight, two teeth showing
Again and again he would try.
Calling Nanda to come and see Yasoda watched in joy
Then covering Sur’s Lord with her ‘aanchal’
She began to feed her boy.
Krishna begins to walk:
Two steps at a time,
Yasoda’s desires see Fulfillment sublime.
‘Runuk jhunuk’ sing his anklets,
A sound So pleasing to the mind.
He sits, But then is up immediately,
A sight difficult to describe.
All the ladies of Braj tire
Of seeing such beauty divine.
Krishna denying he stole the butter:
0, mother mine,
I did not eat the butter
Come dawn, with the herds,
You send me to the jungle,
0, mother mine, I did not eat the butter,
All day long with my flute in the jungles
At dusk do I return home.
But a child, younger than my friends
How could I reach up to the butter?
All the gopas are against me
On my face they wipe the butter,
You, mother, are much too innocent,
You believe all their chatter.
There is a flaw in your behaviour,
You consider me not yours,
Take your herd-stick and the blanket
I’ll dance to your tune no longer.
Surdas, Yasoda then laughed,
And took the boy in her arms,
Mother mine I did not eat the butter
Many of the child Krishna’s activities spilled over into his adolescence, but with decidedly amorous overtones. His demands of milk and butter from the gopis became, as he grew older, less a childish prank and more a pretext for dalliance.