THE JANMASHTAMI I NEVER FORGOT

THE JANMASHTAMI I NEVER FORGOT

Janmashtami. The day of Lord Krishna’s birth as celebrated all over India. 

Every year, on the eve & the day of Janmashtami, devotees visit the temples of Lord Krishna which are adorned with lovely decorations- right from numerous flowers, hangings of Images of Krishna's infancy and booming with prayers and songs about Lord Krishna. At homes, people celebrate the birth of the blue lord by worshiping his Idol, and making Prasad from the Lord’s favorite Maakhan.

Janmashtami is usually celebrated in the majority of the states by fasting, worshiping Krishna and staying up until midnight, and offering prayers at a special time- when Krishna is believed to have been born.

Krishna is one of my favorite God. Something about his smile and his posture- slightly tilting with a flute in his hand- all seems inviting. For some reason, you do not feel awed or scared of Krishna. You just feel instantly at ease, instantly at peace with your inner self.

Since Krishna has been one of my favorite Lord, Janmashtami has always been an exciting festival. Every year, I go out, buy new tiny clothes and jewelry for my beloved Krishna, buy the most beautiful flowers and the most perfect Tulsi leaves to adorn him. I dress him in the new clothes and spray the best scent; placing him in the Jhula, with the softest cushion, and decorating the same with some of the best smelling flowers.

I have a lot of great memories of this festival. In Maharashtra, we celebrate Janmashtami, popularly by way of Dahi Handi. Mostly as I have seen, on the eve of Dahi Handi, people celebrate the Lord’s birth by staying up until late, worshiping Krishna; singing dancing and awaiting the birth of the Lord that everyone loves to love.

Amongst all these memories of Janmashtami; one memory has always stuck through. A dark memory, actually.

On one such Janmashtami; we had to carry out the tedious process of shifting our Library to a new shop (yes, we own one). The next day being Dahi Handi, a holy day, it was supposed to be an opening of our library at the new place. So we (I, and my mom dad) had to possibly complete all the required work of arranging the books on that eve itself. By the time we were done with all the work, it was quite late in the night, well past 12.30 AM.

As we left for home on our scooter- we had an Old Bajaj scooter and we used to go the standard cfamily triple seat style'- with mom and dad; and I sitting (& stooping) at the front. Being Janmashtami, it was raining cats and dogs. There was a lot of thundering and lightning, and the rain was falling incessantly.

As we set out, laughing and talking loudly about the coming day, we were suddenly encountered by a lady. When I think of it now, I cannot remember where she came from. I do not recollect seeing her approaching; just one moment we were talking and zooming on the road, and the next moment- she was there- right in front of our scooter. She was soaked head to toe in the rain; hair disheveled, with no chappals on her feet. She must have been in her thirties. Her face was stricken with terror, and her eyes held distress like I had never seen. Even in the pouring rain, I could make out that she was crying.

She came right in front of our scooter and started pleading with joint hands; “Help. Please help me!!!”

My dad stopped the Scooter, not knowing what to do. Then my mom said something to dad about moving ahead and not waiting. I honestly do not recollect what she said, because my gaze was transfixed on the lady. She looked so helpless, so panic stricken; so pleading- like we were just the one ray of hope that probably the Lord had sent on his birth-day. But then, we sped past her- murmuring something like a sorry- I don’t know if we really said sorry, but in the depths of my imagination, we did. As we sped past, I turned around to look even though mom shouted not to, I saw her running, a speeding car following her, and then heard a scream. Dad sped the way to home at a speed like he never had.

As we reached home, mom and dad told me to not say anything about it to granny. I nodded.

We never really spoke about that for years. But every Janmashtami, all three of us sure remembered that horrid incident. When I turned 15, I once asked my mom why hadn’t we stopped and why hadn’t we helped her. To which my mom said that ‘it was risky, we were just two people with a daughter, barely 13. What if those people did something to us; worse, to you. They were more in number. We couldn’t risk our and especially your entire life for that. And there probably wasn’t anything we could really have done.”

I let that pass. Where I do partially agree with my mother’s justification, it did not set my soul to peace. She was probably right in her own way- being the mother she is. But was it really right as a person?

After that, I have had this debate a lot of times- with my parents, as well as with my own self. Why hadn’t we helped that poor lady? How could we have possibly helped her? Was my mom really right with her justification? Even if she was, is that how we are supposed to be? And the biggest question, would I also have had a similar response had I been in my mother’s place? 

I do not have the answers to these questions. 

Maybe there was no way to help that lady- in the midst of the night, with no one around but just we three; being probably (& clearly) outnumbered by the people in the car. OR maybe we could have helped or at least tried to do something. Maybe we could have passed a bit farther and called up the police. I really don’t know.

The memory of that lady haunts me till date. No Janmashtami goes by without my mind going back to the memory of that horrid incident, and the forlorn debate that erupts in my mind every single year.

I feel saddened by that memory- those pleading eyes haunt the back of my mind and every year on Janmashtami, I silently bow my head wondering if the Lady has forgiven us for not helping her then. 

The memory is in the deep recesses of my pre-teen mind, and that mind likes to think that the lady probably did get help that night; that Lord Krishna did come down on his birth-night and protected her from the monsters. 

And I also really hope that Lord Krishna did forgive us, for the crime we did or did not commit.