“Jinal, hurry up beta*. What are you doing huddled up in that corner?” Mala peeped out of the kitchen. “Almost done Maa*. Your kabaar khaana* is taking up so much space. There's hardly anything here that is of any use. Let me just sort and throw these things away,” Jinal pointed at the mess. Her mother had saved her childhood toys and schoolwork along with tons of her own belongings, pictures, diaries etc. The Vasanis were quite a well known family from Kolkata. Mr. Vasani was a small businessman. Jinal was their only daughter. Mala was a traditional Indian wife. After the passing of Mr. Vasani, she had taken over their business and had single handedly brought up their daughter. Today, she was proud of Jinal, who was working as a software developer in an MNC. “Shu karas beta*?” Mala finally came out of the kitchen only to find Jinal busy on her phone. “Done with the cleaning?” Mala shook her head looking at the now ignored mess, “Come for lunch when you are done.” Kids these days! Always glued to their phones. God knows what is so special in it. Our times were so much better. *** “Mumma, let’s go see the Taj Mahal,” Jinal randomly mentioned one day. “Why suddenly?” Mala raised an eyebrow. “It’s a symbol of eternal love, one of the seven wonders of the world. I want to see the entire world. It’s on my bucket list. Let’s start with this,” Jinal said with a twinkle in her eyes. “Why don’t you go with your friends? You will enjoy it more. Why do you want this buddhi* to tag along?” Mala tried reasoning. “Because YOU are my best friend. Stop all the drama and pack your bags. We are travelling next week!” Jinal squealed. “So soon..” Mala began but Jinal cut her short. “Oh ho mumma! Ketlu* drama! I want to celebrate Holi near the Taj Mahal,” Jinal ended the discussion. Who celebrates Holi near Taj Mahal? This girl has totally lost her mind. Mala did not dare say this out aloud. *** “Why are you packing suits and ghagras?” Mala surprisingly looked at Jinal’s suitcase.  “More instagrammable pictures mumma,” Jinal said matter-of-factly, “You also pack only sarees.” This girl is being really weird. Normally she won’t wear traditional attire and on this trip she is only carrying traditional attire! Hey Krishna! Save me from this madness. *** They flew from Kolkata to Delhi and from there they were supposed to travel to Agra by road. A car was waiting for them at the airport. It was going to be a long ride. “Why didn’t we take a direct flight to Agra?” Mala enquired. “Because that was more expensive. Also, I want to do a road trip with you. That’s also on my bucket list,” Jinal ticked off an imaginary checklist. “What’s this sudden bucket list drama? When you get married, do it with your husband na,” Mala joked. “And who will do it with you then?” Jinal hugged her mother. Mala simply smiled. She looked out her window, at the city line. She had never really travelled much. They were well-to-do but her husband passed away at an early age. Her entire world revolved around Jinal. Mala looked after her business as well as home so she never really had the time. Now, with Jinal working, things were different. Jinal often forced her to go out, do things she always wanted but never got a chance to do earlier. “Mumma, wake up,” Jinal nudged Mala. It was almost dusk. “Are we in Agra already?” Mala looked around confused. “We are at Vishram ghat* in Mathura. I read online that one shouldn’t cross Yamunaji without stopping to pray. Let’s do Yamuna darshan* first. Mala was elated. She was a huge devotee of Krishna. She had always wanted to visit Mathura, Vrindavan and all the other places related to him but never really got a chance. One day for sure. She had always thought. It was great that at least some part of it was coming true. She quickly alighted from the car eyeing the Yamuna like a child eyeing candies. The vast Yamuna looked serene, dotted with colourful boats. It was a sight to behold. The ghat* was made of old red sandstones. It was aarti* time The aarti* was being performed by saffron-clad priests at the ghat*. The sound of bells and the clanging of brass cymbals along with the chanting of Yamunashtak* created a strange kind of vibration within them. The priests skilfully held brass lamps having multiple tiers. Just like the other devotees, the duo offered flowers, and desserts to the pious river. The river itself was illuminated with millions of tiny, floating oil lamps that everyone lit. All their senses seemed to have awakened at that particular moment. “Keep your glasses safe,” a devotee pointed at the troops of monkeys that had gathered around them. Jinal nodded and put her glasses inside her bag. The duo stood there mesmerised, having experienced something really divine. For once, Jinal forgot all about clicking pictures. After the aarti*, they did a little Yamuna paan* and then continued with their journey. “I didn’t know Mathura would be on our way. Thank you so much for giving me the best experience of my life,” Mala carrassed Jinal’s face. “Anything for you maa!*” Jinal winked. Mala kept looking outside like a curious kid. “How much longer for Agra bhaiya*?” Mala enquired. “Agra is in the opposite direction ma’am,” the  driver spoke absent-mindedly. “We took the wrong route?” Mala looked mortified. “Nae ma’am sahi ja rahe hai*. I have been driving on this route for years. We will reach in some time,” he assured her. “What is he saying?” Mala looked at Jinal perplexed. “He is right. We are not going to Agra. We are going to Jatipura instead,” Jinal fished out a diary from her backpack and handed it to Mala. Mala’s eyes instantly lit up in recognition of the diary. She quickly started browsing through it. She had written lots of pages of bhajans* for her Krishna. It contained lots of newspaper clippings and magazine cut-outs of various places related to Krishna. This was before the smart phones, when the only way to look at pictures was through magazines and television. Google had made it so much easier now. “We will be staying at Jatipura. From there, we will travel to Gokul, Vrindavan, Barsana and Mathura,” Jinal’s voice brought her back to reality. Mala had a huge lump in her throat. She just looked at Jinal with gratefulness, not knowing what to say. Not a day went by when she didn’t pray to Krishna to allow her to visit him. But never in her wildest dream had she imagined this is how it was going to happen. She had never mentioned this to Jinal. Tears of happiness quickly started flowing through her eyes. “Oye mari ladakri, tara mate kai pan*,” Jinal kissed Mala and wiped her tears. “You found this diary while cleaning the room the other day, right?” Mala smiled and looked up at Jinal. “Yes detective. You solved the case,” Jinal joked. It was almost dinner time when they reached Jatipura, a small village located on the borders of Rajasthan and Uttar Pradesh, a village built atop the Govardhan mountain. It was believed that Krishna once picked this very mountain with his little finger to save the villagers from the wrath of Indradev. The duo checked-in to a hotel, freshened up and  went for dinner, a simple meal of chapati, curry and kadhi khichadi*. “You carry on, I will inquire about the darshan* timings,” Jinal handed over the room keys to Mala. “The manager said that Mangla Aarti* is at 5:30 in the morning. Govardhannathji is two minutes walk from here,” Jinal mentioned to Mala. The duo retired to bed. Jinal slept immediately. Even though Mala was very tired with the day’s journey, she was too excited to sleep. She had butterflies in her stomach. It felt almost like she was going to secretly meet her lover. The Gopis* must have been equally excited in anticipation to meet their Krishna. But they actually got to meet him, do raas* with him. They were lucky. Mala had countless such thoughts that night. She suddenly felt a pang of jealousy. She kept tossing and turning, constantly looking at her phone. It felt like that mischievous Krishna had played another trick. The time seemed to be moving at a snail’s pace. She finally gave up and decided to take a stroll outside. There was absolute darkness outside. There were hardly any street lights. The few that were present cast shadows on the streets. The entire village looked asleep. It was quiet, with not a soul in sight but somehow there was no fear. She felt blessed to finally be able to breathe the same air that Krishna once breathed, walk the same streets that Krishna once did. She knelt down on the street, taking its blessings. She found a bench underneath a tree and she just sat there, waiting for the wretched time to move faster. *** “Get up Jinal,” Mala squealed in excitement. “Five more minutes mumma,” Jinal groaned. “We‘ll be late for the darshan*. Get ready please.” Mala pleaded. Jinal struggled to open her eyes. She checked the time. It was just quarter to five. She was surprised to see Mala already bathed and dressed in a beautiful saree. Their door-bell soon rang. Both of them looked curiously at each other. “Chai* ma’am,” The person outside bellowed. Mala opened the door surprised, “We never ordered for room service.” “Madam it’s darshan* time. So this is a wake up call with a cup of tea,” he handed them two cups of tea and proceeded to the room next to theirs. Mala was genuinely impressed. The two had their tea and Jinal quickly went to get ready. They then hurried towards the temple. The village, which looked sleepy at eight in the night, was bustling with life at five in the morning. The road leading to the temple was lined with shops selling milk and other samagri* for Govardhannathji. They bought some milk and samagri* like all the other devotees. There was a huge crowd at the temple. The deity was hidden by curtains and the darshan* only happened at a fixed time four times a day. Everyone sat singing bhajans* of beloved Krishna, waiting for the darshan*. Mala too joined them. They noticed most of the devotees were in their pyjamas. “It is ok to not bathe for the early morning darshan*,” a devotee who heard them whispering offered an explanation. “Ahh..” the two replied in unison. “Is this your first time here?” he enquired. The duo nodded. “You must do the parikrama*. It’s become very easy now. You get totos. They will take a nominal fare and take you around the Govardhannathji, stopping at all major places for your darshan*. Mala thanked the kind man for his help. The darshan* soon began and everyone watched it in awe. It looked like there were impressions of Krishna and Balram on the mountain. Many like Mala were tearful. Once the aarti* was over, people stood in lines to take their blessings. They were offering clothes and sringar* to Krishna Balram. Litres after litres of milk was being poured over them. It was, after all, Krishna’s favourite. “Thank you Krishna for finally calling me,” Mala whispered with folded hands when her turn came. She softly bathed Krishna Balram with milk, wiped them with a new soft towel and then applied attar* and tilak* to them. She bowed down, as if surrendering herself at their feet. Mala took a pinch of clay from the ground and had it as prasad*. “It’s charnamrit*,” she told Jinal, handing a little to her. They finally took their leave and went out. They came out and were welcomed with smell of piping hot pohas, fafdas and jalebis*. The two had a little of all of it, along with full cream lassi*. Nothing like our Indian breakfast. They then embarked on their parikrama. They hailed a toto which took them around Jatipura. Radha kund, Krishna kund, Uddhav kund were a few of the attractions. “What are these people doing?” Jinal pointed at several men rolling on the road. “These guys are doing parikrama the hard way,” The toto driver replied. They went to a lot of baithak Darshans. It is believed that during the Mughal rule, a great preacher Vallabhacharya travelled by foot to a lot of places to spread Krishna’s message. Everywhere he sat, became a baithak. These baithaks hold a great significance among the Vaishnavs*. Mala and Jinal were worshipping in one such baithak when Mala prayed for the well being of her world, her Jinal. The caretaker of that baithak was intently observing Mala. As if reading her mind, he said, “Your daughter here, is going to achieve great heights. She is going to travel the world, and with her, even you will get to travel.” Mala was tearful yet again. She folded her hands. The trip was turning out to be such a good one. While they were returning, they noticed a troop of monkeys. “Mumma let’s buy bananas for them!” Jinal suggested. They bought a few dozen bananas and started throwing them at the monkeys. They came in huge numbers and started relishing the thrown bananas. Some even grabbed them right out of their hands. Jinal was overjoyed seeing their relics. For once, even she squealed like an excited child. That evening they prayed at the Govardhannathji again. “Tomorrow we are travelling to Barsana, the village of Radha Rani. We will celebrate Holi there,” Jinal proudly announced. Mala had heard so much about the famous lathmar Holi of Barsana. She couldn’t contain her excitement.  Next day they left for Barsana. It wasn’t a long ride. There were vast stretches of agricultural land on their way. Barsana that day, was a sight to behold. Thousands of devotees flocked the narrow lanes of Barsana, all dressed in traditional attires. People were sprinkling vibrant colors on each other. Everyone was laughing, singing and dancing. A lot of them were also engaged in a friendly banter, hitting each other with sticks in the traditional Radha Krishna style. Mala stood there mesmerised. How she wished her husband was here with her to witness this grandeur. A handful of colour was smeared on her face, bringing her back from her trance. “Happy Holi maaaa,” Jinal roared. Mala grabbed a stick from one of the devotees and started hitting Jinal. They ran around in circles, like kids playing catch. It felt like home here. Mala was surprised to see a lot of foreigners dressed like Radha Rani had joined them in the celebration. Everyone played like they knew each other since ages. There were no inhibitions, it felt like they were all related. They were related after all, Krishna was their binding key. He was in all their hearts. They sang, danced, played garba and ate to their heart's content. Mala felt carefree like a child again, bonding with everyone around. It was almost six by the time they decided to leave for their hotel. Neither of them wanted to leave but the streets were desolate and not well lit so they had no choice. They stopped at Govardhan, a small village some five kilometres away from Jatipura. Everyone had told them to have kachoris* at the famous Brijwasi restaurant and of course the mandatory full cream lassi. The food was as good as promised. They relished their meal and then left for their hotel. That night, while showering, Mala couldn’t help but pray to her Krishna. He had blessed her with the best experience of her life. “Thank you beta* for the best holi I have ever had. This is actually turning out to be the best vacation ever. Thank you for everything.” “Aww mumma.. I was doing all this only for you. I hate to admit but even I am having the best time of my life,” she hugged and kissed Mala on her forehead. The next day was planned for Vrindavan and Gokul. The small towns where Krishna had spent his childhood. They could feel the little Krishna’s presence on the streets. The place looked so untouched from all the modern technologies, a place still stuck in time. The people were dressed simply, lived in small houses that had cow dung cakes on the walls and fresh milk and lassi was available everywhere. The cows roamed around freely. A peacock honked somewhere in the distance and hens were chasing each other on the streets. Monkeys were visible at almost every corner. Old women sat outside their houses on cots with their heads covered and the kids played barefoot on the streets. *** “Beta*, let's go to Raman Reti,” Mala suggested. “What’s that mumma?” Jinal enquired. “Krishna used to play there with his brother as a kid,” Mala explained. They got down at Raman Reti. They entered the park and were casually talking. From afar, Mala spotted the famous reti*. Forgetting everything, Mala ran, as if some force was pulling her towards it. Surprised, Jinal also ran behind. Before she could reach the reti*, Mala had started rolling on it. Jinal was about to stop her when she noticed everyone around her doing the same. Just like Krishna would have done as a kid. Jinal stood rooted to the spot. She was smiling, looking at her mother behaving like a kid. After her dad’s passing, she had had to take up all the responsibility and had aged overnight. She was beginning to see how her mom must have been before the responsibilities turned her into who she was. “Why are you standing like a statue? Come, join me,” Mala beckoned Jinal who didn’t need much coaxing. They then sat there, watching everyone else, everyone seemed so happy and at peace here. Jinal looked around and saw people making sand castles. “Let’s make a beautiful castle and pray to Kanhaji to give us a house just as pretty as this one,” Jinal overheard a mother telling her kid. She smiled to herself. Isn’t this the beauty of every religion? How beautifully the teaching and culture is passed down to the younger generation. They went out and fed the deers in the adjacent park. They had a light meal there and then headed to Nidhivan, a place where it is believed that Raasleela still happens every night. There were lots of trees, twisted and in pairs. It was believed that at night these took the form of gopis. It was a small forest which somehow echoed with distant sounds of anklets and dandias*. Some kind of mysterious force definitely seemed to be present there. They did not wish to leave but the forest closed at dusk. Every corner was checked to see no one was left behind because legend had it that whoever witnessed the divine raas either dies or loses his eyesight. Maybe it was a myth but what was surprising was that the place had so many monkeys and birds but somehow, even they couldn’t be seen in the premises post sunset. Jinal was a modern girl but this place definitely made her believe in the super power. Their final stop that day was the famous Prem Mandir. “Didn't I tell you, I wanted to see the monument built to show eternal love?” Jinal mentioned. Mala nodded, recalling their conversation from back home, something that seemed ages ago. “What can be a better symbol of love than Radha-Krishna. Their love is so pure, it is unrivalled,” Jinal concluded. Mala looked at her daughter with pride. When did she become so big? Wasn’t she a little girl just yesterday? She was finally convinced that she had done a good job at bringing her daughter up. She was sure her husband would be looking at them from above and smiling. She offered a small prayer in thanks. On the final day of their stay, they went to a gaushala to feed the holy cows and offer their prayers. They went to Mathura again to pray to the Yamuna river and then went to see the place where Krishna was born, where his parents were imprisoned in the kans palace. They also had the famous mathura chhat and puchkas*. On their way back, they visited a few more baithaks. It was quite dark by the time they were returning. A lot of people were there, walking alongside them in those narrow, dimly-lit lanes. That’s when someone grabbed Jinal from behind. She shouted to draw people’s attention to her molester. She couldn’t see clearly. People around started shouting, “Are bandar chasma le gya.*” Looking up, she could make a faint outline of a monkey chewing her glasses. The people were helpful and started buying Frooti from a nearby shop and offering it to the monkey. It felt like the smart monkey knew this tactic well. He threw the glasses and grabbed the Frooti packet, having accomplished his mission. The spectacles were bent but Jinal had no choice but to wear them in order to see, she was blind otherwise. Mala couldn’t stop laughing looking at Jinal who continued cursing under her breath. *** It was finally time to go. As the car began, Mala looked longingly out the windows. She would never be the same again. It was like she was leaving behind a part of her. She felt a different kind of calmness. “Tum prem ho, tum preet ho manmeet ho Kanha, mere Manmeet ho..” she couldn’t help but hum this song on her way. *** Glossary

• Beta: child
• Maa: mother
• Kabaar khaana: junkyard
• Shu karas beta: what are you doing child
• buddhi: old lady
• Ketlu: how much
• ghat: stairs or passage leading upto a river
• darshan: pray
• Yamunashtak: a prayer for Yamuna river
• aarti: a Hindu ritual employed in worship, part of a puja, in which light is ritually waved for the veneration of deities
• Paan: take a sip of water 
• bhaiya: brother
• Nae ma’am sahi ja rahe hai: No ma’am we are going in the right direction
• Oye mari ladakri, Tara mate kai pan: oh my darling, anything for you
• Kadhi khuchdi: yellow Rice that is served with a warm fragrant yoghurt based soup
• Mangla Aarti: early morning prayer
• Gopis: female cowherd
• Raas: a dance involving two sticks
• chai: tea
• Samagri: offering to god
• Bhajan: songs in praise of god
• Parikrama: moving clockwise round an object of devotion as an indication of reverence
• Sringar: makeup and jewellery
• attar: fragrance made of essential oils
• Tilak: a mark worn by Hindus on their forehead
• Prasad: offering made to god
• Charnamrit: foot ambrosia
• Poha, fafda, jalebi: Indian snacks 
• Vaishnav: a caste in Hinduism, believed to be worshippers of lord Vishnu.
• Kachori: Indian snack
• Reti: sand
• Dandiya: stick used for a traditional dance form
• chaat and puchkas: Indian snacks
• Are bandar chasma le gya: Monkey took the glasses away