I had worshipped Lord Krishna – my Sakha – ever since I learned what God and devotion were. Our relationship was built over a lifetime of prayers, faith and reliance.
Not in a ritual-heavy, incense-and-bells way. More like old friends who talk in shorthand. Sakha energy. Easy. Familiar. Intimate.
And then, somewhere along the way, life happened.
Disappointments piled up. Questions went unanswered. Faith began to feel inconvenient. Without any dramatic announcement, I quietly stepped away. I didn’t rage. I didn’t curse Sakha. I simply closed the door. Bolted it, actually. With emotional steel grills and spiritual CCTV.
I told myself I was done. Faith-free. Self-reliant. Very grown-up about it.
Krishna, naturally, laughed.
Because if there’s one thing The Blue One is terrible at, it’s taking a hint.
When Faith Finds You Anyway
He began slipping into my life like an uninvited but oddly helpful friend. Small miracles at first. Quiet ones. The kind you notice only if you’re paying attention. Coincidences that made me squint. Comfort arriving suspiciously on time. Help showing up from directions I hadn’t even looked at yet.
At first, I brushed them off. Random. Chance. Luck.
Because denial, frankly, is a very respectable coping mechanism.
But there are only so many “accidents” before you start suspecting intention.
Somnath, Bhalka Teerth, and The Blue One’s Timing
Then I went to Somnath.
Before my darshan of the Jyotirling, before I had even gathered myself, a giant laser image of Krishna appeared during the sound and light show. Huge. Radiant. Unmissable. As if to say, Hi. You thought you could avoid me?
I rolled my eyes internally. He smiled externally.
Classic Krishna. Classic Sakha.
At the Bhalka Teerth Temple, where even the articulate fall silent, something cracked open. Tears came uninvited, unstoppable. I stood there crying while simultaneously reprimanding him in my head, “If only you had stayed away from the forest that day. If only you hadn’t opted to rest that day”.
He, of course, said nothing.
Silence is his favourite comeback. Always a man of action.
Prasad, Revelations, and Quiet Assurance
And then there was prasad.
Krishna Prasad has a way of reaching me when I least expect it. Not sought. Not requested. Just… delivered. Almost smugly. As if the Universe itself was saying, You may have unfollowed him, but he didn’t unfollow you.
Revelations followed. Quiet ones. The lightning-bolt variety. Just moments of deep knowing. Sudden clarity. That unmistakable feeling of being backed, especially on days I felt most alone.
Slowly, without force or drama, I realised something deeply reassuring:
I had turned my back on Krishna. He had never turned his back on me.
A Grown-Up Friendship with Sakha
That’s the thing about Sakha.
He doesn’t chase. He doesn’t sulk. He doesn’t punish wounded faith. He simply waits, steady, amused, present, until you’re ready to meet him again where you are.
When I finally did, it wasn’t with blind devotion or dramatic declarations.
This time, I told him the friendship would be on my terms and conditions.
He rolled his eyes – he’s learnt to do that from me, by the way – and flashed that familiar, bewitching smile.
Agreement, Krishna-style.
I reminded him, gently, that I am Mayuri, of the peacock family. That the peacock feather he wears so effortlessly has always felt like a quiet, personal link between us. A shared symbol. A small reminder of belonging. One that, in its own way, enhances his beauty.
He didn’t need to say anything. He rarely does when something is understood.
Faith as Companionship, Not Surrender
This time, my faith wasn’t about surrendering my agency; it was about companionship.
I don’t expect Krishna to solve my problems. I trust him to walk beside me while I solve them. I don’t ask for guarantees. I ask for clarity and the grace to laugh when life gets absurd.
Finding my way back to The Blue One didn’t feel like returning to belief. It felt like returning to a friendship.
Some doors, it turns out, can be bolted shut. But the truest companions don’t need keys. They already know the way in.
*Om Namoh Bhagavate Vasudevaya*
