When you enter a home in India, or a shop, or a taxi or a government office like the police station, even when you enter the shed of a wood cutter, there is more chance than not that you will find a picture of Krishna on the wall, maybe as part of a calendar, maybe in his very own silver plated frame.
Most probably he will be blue bodied, and playing a flute. He will be standing in a forest, lotus flowers blooming in an aquiline lake and a pair of peacocks standing by his gentle blue feet. There may be a woman too, dressed in her best most feminine sari, and she may be leaning on him and looking at him with full adoration, her eyes dreamy, her lips a bit parted, and you know, she is making it clear in every way, that she will do anything he asks her to, anything at all...
She is probably Radha, Krishna's most beloved of all his beloveds. She could be Rhukmini, his lawful wedded wife. Or, she could be any of the 16,000 gopiyas, his wildly devoted devotees, who have given their life to the holy act of loving him.
To this day, India is filled with women who want nothing else but to sing songs to Krishna, to dedicate their every waking action to him.
Once upon a time, when Krishna still walked the earth in his earthly form, all of the milk maidens from his village, Vrindavan, and from all of the surrounding villages, were crazy for him, and all of them wished to marry him. Their love of him was intense, and often kept them from doing their duties properly. From the time Krishna was still a boy, the girls followed him everywhere, following the call of this divine love.
One day, while they were bathing by the river, they became so carried away with their fantasies that they took off more clothes than was usual in the modest setting of rural, ancient India. They even took of their under garments, exposing their creamy skin to the water and the sun. Oh, the joy of it! They were having such a good time with this unusual exposure that they did not notice Krishna, a naughty adolescent at the time, creeping up from behind a tree and then, quick as lightening, he stole all of their clothes and disappeared up into the highest mango tree. There he waited with his friends, delighted of course, to see what the milkmaids would do.
"KRISHNA! KRISHNAAA!" they called when they wanted to get dressed and found out that they had no clothes; modest maidens, from good families, nude! In the middle of the day, down in the pasture by the river. "KRISHNAAA! Give us back our clothes!"
"Come and get them, my friends," answered Krishna, always the tease. (She who wants to come before Krishna must do so naked, unadorned, unhidden behind false masks and pretenses - this is the teaching of the Lord, of the Holy One…)
The maidens covered their holy private place with their hands, one hand across their chest and one in the other place, and walked through the meadow, humiliated, to get their clothes from the flute playing, milk stealing youngster who immediately returned the correct clothes to each of the maidens.
How he enjoyed his prank! He enjoyed their reddened cheeks, he enjoyed their love which did not wane after this mischievous display but rather strengthened. And after the cowgirls were dressed and ready to play with him, they found that he had vanished into thin air!
"KRISHNA!!!"
Off they went to search for him, through the fields, over the path, down the boulders, across the stream, through the forest, the quest went on. And every time one of them had the thought that she was the special one and would therefore surely be the one to find him, she immediately found herself behind.
Eventually they all came to realize that the only way to keep up with everyone was to drop any thoughts of their own selves. They thought they saw him, a few times, but the glimpse was short and from a distance. In the end, surrendering, they went home, each to her own room. And there, after night's curtain fell, Oh!
A holy visitor in her inner chamber...
And in the morning, when each emerged radiating the golden light of that rarest of all fulfillments, they were to find that He had visited every one of them as well. And they were torn between jealousy and happiness for each other. And they deal with it somehow, and this is the hardest part of their path...
Blessed be the 'gopis,' may they show us the way to blissful union with the Divine One through selfless devotion. Om.