Kalindi

A cool stroke of wind awoke Kalindi from her meditation. She looked up at the sky. The sun’s rays were askew, seemingly concentrated on a point a little while away. She sighed. The river was still flowing as usual. Unable to concentrate, she threw herself into the cool waters. Washing her matted locks, she looked up at the sun again. Why wasn’t he smiling down at her today? She felt as though the sun was saying something, nudging her almost. Shrugging the thought away, she sat at the edge of the riverbed, washing away the dust of the sandy beach- a futile task.

Kalindi had resided in the small hut by the river for as long as she could remember. Her earliest memory was that of a sage feeding her payasam. To this day, she wasn't sure if the old man had cooked it for her himself or if he had begged for it in the city somewhere. She had been around ten years of age at that time. She had no memories of her life before that time. The kind, old sage had found her floating in the river Yamuna and brought her home. He was the one who had named her Kalindi, after the river itself. After his death Kalindi has continued living in the same hut, living a quiet life, but nothing ever had felt natural to her. She had always felt separate from the rest of the world around her, finding solace only in the dark, playful water of the river Yamuna.

The only thing she remembered very clearly before waking up in the sage's arms, was a promise. Someone had told her they loved her. She was supposed to wait for them. The sage had tried very hard to get her married. Every Sunday, he would line up suitors before her hut. Even though she was grateful for his efforts, Kalindi always found the idea of marriage repulsive and turned down all the expectant young men. Finally, the sage had given up when she had turned twenty. All her friends were now married, and mostly mothers. Any time they visited their homes, they would be sure to pay a visit to their crazy, spinster friend, and Kalindi always made sure to keep heaps of sweets for their children. They would always end up berating her for not marrying, and yet she was their refuge when they had to vent about their stressed married lives. Even women married into their village saw her as a confidante and often came to sleep off their tempers in her humble abode whenever they fought with their husbands. Kalindi found herself endlessly amused by the ironies that surrounded her, but still felt an acute emptiness within her heart.

---

Today, as she splashed the waters of the river absentmindedly, she felt a strange detachment from this ever-flowing stream. Something in her felt like it had snapped. As long as she could remember, Kalindi had been tied to this stream. The people of her village worshipped her as the river Goddess, but hardly anyone had spotted the sadness in its pitch-black waters. It wasn't as though she had stopped getting unwanted propositions from men even as her father had given up, on occasion she had had to physically fend off the especially stubborn suitors, some of them her friends' husbands! How much longer do I wait, she asked the midday sun again, which had always seemed like a second father to her. Kalindi had always been able to see directly into the sun without blinking or hurting her eyes. While she had mostly used it as a party trick through most of her childhood, as she had grown she had come to ponder upon this unusual talent of hers.

Hearing footsteps, she looked up. Two men stood on the bank of the river, laughing at some inside joke. She immediately recognized the taller of the two, and a warm glow of happiness rippled through her heart. It was as if a curtain of fog had just been torn apart. She stood dumbfounded, watching the men unload their royal-looking jewellery and dive happily into the water. How could she have forgotten that face? That beautiful dark face surrounded by those dark blue curls? Now that she had seen it, memories came flooding back to her. The day he was born, his father had carried him across the river; she had been there then. Then, she had been born. Oh, how she remembered now! She looked up once more at the sun, in her mind she saw her old room, in the house of Sun himself, as if in a previous life, her twin brother laughing. Twin? The God of Death! How he used to cry in her arms when their stepmother would mistreat them. She remembered how scared they both were of their father. She also remembered her other brother; Manu, the father of mankind! When he had died, she had sent him off, and her brother had received him! How could she have forgotten the aeons of laughter and tears?! And, the boy who played his intoxicating flute at this same riverbank! Oh, how often had she watched from a distance as he frolicked with his friends! To her, now, it seemed like a bare instant ago, when she had seen him dancing on the hoods of the multi-headed serpent!

She remembered how she had clutched his arm tightly and turned him to make him face her, "How much longer till we marry?" She had asked, "You've made me wait for ten years!"

"We are only ten years old! What will the people say? At least let's grow up first! Go meditate or something, gosh!" The boy had laughed merrily.

Kalindi had cried and cried, and ultimately thrown herself back into the river, in her anger choosing to forget her love, and then she had woken up in a small hut downstream.

It was the same river, just a different bank. The same man, in almost a separate life. The cowherd stood before her in a king’s garb. She could barely control herself as she walked towards him almost in a daze. She stared as his expression upon seeing her changed from annoyance to confusion to recognition at last. "You?" He whispered as he swam back to the shore. Kalindi also walked towards him, until they both stood knee-deep in the pulsating water. Krishna spoke to her, his voice still barely a whisper, "Where were you so long? I looked for you everywhere! I called and called and you never answered."

"I-I forgot," was all she could muster. "Where do you live now?" She asked, noting his tanned skin streaked with old battle wounds.

"By the ocean." He answered shakily.

"Cool!" She smirked, "That's where I'm going."

They both broke into nervous laughter. Meanwhile, the other man had also swum out at this point and was staring at them. "A little privacy?" Krishna said to him cheekily. The man immediately turned beet-red and fled the scene at record speed. Kalindi, having recovered somewhat from the shock of remembering four yugas' worth of life in four seconds, laughed sarcastically, "That's Arjuna, right? He came to my ashram yesterday. Wanted to know my purpose on his land. I didn't know you consorted with the likes of him. Gosh, are you a royal guard now?!"

"Yamune," Krishna complained, "You know who and what I am. Don't mind Arjuna though, he has a good heart, only a bit slow on the uptake. I have to sing entire songs just to make him pay attention to anything important I say! Anyway, what is your purpose here?"

"Penance." Kalindi smiled, lowering her head.

Krishna smiled, “Penance? What for?” Kalindi blushed and looked down at her toes, gently ruffling the sand under her feet. “Well, you.” She whispered.

"Me? What did I do?" Krishna looked at her with incredulity.

Kalindi's head shot up. She had always had a sharp tongue, "You complain about your friend, my Lord, but you aren't that fast either are you? Have you married? If so, I pity your wife! Or wives? Honestly, who the hell made you a God? Have you not practised your mind-reading even once since we last met-" Kalindi stopped abruptly. Krishna was already tying one of his pearl necklaces around her neck. Kalindi found herself blushing furiously, as she let herself lean somewhat on his broad shoulders. "Good one," she whispered under her breath. She smiled at him, "How did you know it was me?"

"I guessed, from how angry you made Arjuna." Krishna laughed, "Not an easy feat, I must say!"

"So you decided the best course of action was to come swim in front of my house. Nice trunks by the way!" Kalindi retorted.

"Please stop!" Krishna said embarrassedly, as he stumbled out of water to change, leaving Kalindi cackling. Seeing her, some of the gathered village women also began cheering and hooting, as Krishna tried to pick up all his stuff and move. "This is all your fault you know! You could've just made an appointment with me. No! You thought the best course of action was...whatever this is!" Kalindi laughed, thoroughly enjoying Krishna's embarrassment.

"Will you stop laughing and help me here? I said I'll marry you. We just got engaged, technically!" Krishna pleaded with her.

Kalindi continued laughing, "See, Mister, I still remember what you did to those gopis!" She turned to the crowd of women that had gathered, "He stole all of their clothes! While they were bathing! This is retribution, and you brought it on yourself!"

Krishna shook his head exasperatedly, "Are you trying to get me beat up, Yamune?"

Finally, Yamuna took pity on him, picked up the remaining of his jewellery and ran behind him, but Krishna had already started walking down the riverbank, feigning anger. "Hey," Kalindi called out after him, "Don't you dare ditch me, Krishna! I remember who I am now, I'll drown your friend's kingdom."

"Good," Krishna called back, "Do it, he has a fiery wife who can dry it right up. You two hash it out!"

Yamuna laughed as she ran after him, throwing her arms around his neck. Krishna pulled her up on his back, piggybacking her. She tore one of her beaded necklaces and lovingly tied it around his neck, stealing a kiss as she did so. She did not even care about village wives who stared with such scandalous glares to see a woman, especially a noted ascetic such as her, be so openly romantic with a man. Only one woman whispered as she looked on longingly, "If you know, you know." She had married into the village from Vrindavan.

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