For acquiring knowledge one worships goddess Saraswati, to acquire detachment, one pleases Shiva, and for inviting lila into ones life, one chases the master dream weaver Krishna! Lord Krishna, the blue skinned Hindu deity, threw me an invitation in a dream, and true to Krishna’s reputation, his manner of inviting me was wrought in intrigue. A spell was cast, an illusion weaved, and I found myself by the sweet trick of destiny on the road to Mathura. The ancient city, once the center of power under the rule of Emperor Ashoka, flattened by Aurangzeb and re-erected by Hindu faith, has also been a key Buddhist center finding mention in the writings of the Chinese traveler Hyuen Tsang. But for me, it just meant the little town on the banks of sacred river Yamuna, where Krishna was born 5000 years ago.

It is easier to count the dust particles on Earth than to count the number of holy places in Mathura, it is said. Krishna’s footsteps are still wet on the mud of Mathura, and his perfume still vagarant on Yanuma’s shores. There is Gokul on one side where Krishna was secretly raised, Mahaban where he spent his youth, Rangbhoomi where Krishna’s wicked uncle Kansa was defeated, Barsana where Radha was born, and Govardhan hill that Krishna held up on one finger. Each of the 32 picturesque shores around the Yamuna has had its own tryst with Krishna. At one, he rested after killing Kansa, at another he was tied by his mother for stealing butter, yet another boasts of being the secret hideout of Krishna to spend lazy afternoons with Radha.

I decided to follow the road that led to Vrindavan 15 km from Mathura, the forest land of Krishna’s youth, for a meeting with the deity Banke Bihari. The enclosure of the shrine was full with madmen (all age groups), each indifferent to the world, and extending ones gestures of love to Krishna in the form of Banke Bihari. Some bowing, chanting, dancing; while others shaking their heads from side to side trying hard to express an indescribable bliss. Each conversing with and loving his own Krishna! Each time the curtain rose to reveal the deity, a cry of bliss pierced the hall. Each time the curtain dropped, gathering waited breathlessly for yet another encounter with the lord.

Face to face with the idol, I felt like the love in the eyes of Radha. The one-minute glimpses could not satiate my thirst anymore, and my head stayed bent in prayer for more. Lo and behold! This time when I opened my eyes, I saw an array of Krishnas, as though through a split mirror! A million images of him overlapping, merging, rising. I saw him in the chant of Sadhus, in the play of children, in the tears of women, in the frenzy of dancing youth. Now I could see the true playground of Krishna - the hearts of his lovers, where he lives, plays, frolics. I glanced at Banke Bihari sitting innocently in the shrine, silently containing it all within him – the scripts, the roles, the dialogues and destinies of one and all, and I knew that God is a child… full of pranks!

After this spectacular encounter, I rushed to the side of river Yamuna. According to Hindu scriptures, Yamuna is formed after river Ganges is purified one hundred times. Yamuna is considered the daughter of the Sun and sister to the death god Yama, and it is believed that a single dip in its sacred waters frees one from the torments of death. Standing at the river’s edge and watching the floating lights, I recollected the mirage I had seen on my way to Mathura. I had kept questioning why after all is an illusion created? Now I heard the answer from the master of mirages - till the time we are ready to see reality in its face, nature continues to act like a chameleon. Till the time we are satiated with mere glimpses, the curtain continues to rise and fall. Soon the moon smiled from beneath the dark clouds to spread its milky brilliance, and after days of doubt, a moment of belief shone forth.