In my view, Krishna-love can be compared to a heady fizz in our veins. That's how it seems to have been for millions. I often think that the Yamuna brims with the most extraordinary memories.
Of which, surely the sweetest is of a stormy Shravan night when a man with a basket on his head set his feet in her raging waters to cross from Mathura to Gokul? Yamuna made way for Vasudeva, but could not resist an impulsive leap to touch the feet of the holy child he carried on his head.
Yet, though she is the river of the Rajdhani, the Yamuna is cut off from our lives today. There are no beautiful riverfronts, promenades and boat rides to refresh those who live in or visit Delhi. This oncesplendid river apparently saw interesting traffic and drew innumerable pilgrims to her banks dreamers, drop-outs, mystics, musicians, poets and saints.
One such fascinating person was Ras Khan, author of the 'Rachnavali', in which he says, "manus ho to vahi raskhani baso braj gokul gaon ke gvaran/ jo pasu hon to kaha bas mero charaun nit nand ko dhenu manjharan". (If I, Ras Khan, am reborn as human, I wish to be a cowherd in the village of Gokul in Brajbhumi. If born an animal, I would like to be a cow in the herd of Nanda, grazing blissfully all day.) How did 16th-17th century Saeed Ibrahim, said to be a Kabuli Pathan, become Ras Khan of Mathura-Vrindavan-Gokul? And why do we sing his verses centuries later as part of the beloved heritage of Krishna bhajan? One story goes he was from a rich zamindari family of Amroha in Uttar Pradesh and was treated shabbily by the local proud beauty he loved. This hurt him a lot and he grew morose and lonely.
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