In the soft dappled light of morning, Mother Yashoda was in a daze of delightful anticipation. Today was special—a day to visit a Maharaja named Vrishabhanu, his beautiful home perched atop Varshana hill, not far from Gokula. A little bundle of joy named Radha had recently been born there, wrapped in innocence and laced with divinity. Mother Yashoda was excited to finally get a glimpse of the little girl.
Yashoda wrapped herself and baby Krishna in regal garments. With a cart laden with gifts that winked and shimmered, she carried Krishna, her own universe in miniature, and set forth to visit the king’s home.
Greeted with warmth, Yashoda and Krishna felt as if they had walked into an extension of their own home. Mother Kirtida welcomed them, her face blooming and blushing with early motherhood. As Yashoda's eyes fell upon baby Radha, lying in her cradle, she felt a pull at her heartstrings. "Ah, this is a sight dipped in gold!" she exclaimed. Kirtida's eyes twinkled as she replied, "Yes, she's our treasure, but there is a shadow upon her, and it is breaking our hearts."
Yashoda sensed the weight in Kirtida's voice. "What is it?" she gently inquired. In a murmur soft as a sigh, Kirtida confessed, "Radha, our beautiful angel, still hasn't opened her eyes. We’ve tried everything. We’ve asked everyone. But to no avail. It seems that she's blind."
The room hung still for a moment. But Yashoda, always the voice of calmness and comfort, spoke, "Fear not, dear friend. I sense that your daughter carries a marvelous destiny, yet to unfold. Her beauty, her virtues—they're a canvas yet to be fully revealed."
As they chatted over a table full of delicacies, they were blissfully unaware of a certain little explorer. Young Krishna, hardly a few years old, had found his way to the cradle. With each attempt to stand, it was as if he was scaling his own tiny mountain. And then, he rose high enough to peer into the cradle, his eyes meeting Radha's.
At that precise instant, Radha's eyes fluttered open. It was as if her little eyes were saying, "I was waiting for this view—the first image to grace my sight must be none other than Krishna."
The time to leave drew near. Yashoda called for her tiny adventurer and sauntered over to bid farewell to Radha. What she found left her speechless - Radha was awake, her eyes open and sparkling. Overwhelmed, Kirtida rushed to the cradle, her tears now of joy rather than sadness. As they embraced and laughed with relief, the mothers in the room noticed the unmatched sparkle in Radha’s eyes - and in Krishna’s eyes.
And there, in a corner, Krishna wore a cryptic smile. As if he had orchestrated the entire enchanting scene.
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