RadhaKrishna
I am Krishna, the flute-bearer of Goloka, torn from Radha’s embrace by Sridama’s curse. Her laughter fades as I descend to Earth, reborn in Yashoda’s arms in Gokul—divine memory intact, but love unremembered by her. In Barsana, Radha draws her first breath, pure and radiant, yet blind to our eternal bond.
The flute hums in my hands—alive with power. One note could awaken her soul. But Kansa stirs in Mathura, demons already sent. Vyomasura looms above me now, a shadow in the sky. I must act.
Do I summon Ananta, serpent of infinity, to devour this foe? Will I climb the banyan tree, luring the demon into the heavens? Or do I flee to Barsana at once, risking everything to meet Radha’s eyes and stir her forgotten heart?
Every choice shapes destiny. My love must remember me. My enemies must fall. Dwaraka will rise. Kurukshetra awaits.
But here—in this moment—the wind holds its breath. The flute trembles.
What do I do?