Krishnashtami

Told in English, Telugu.

It was Krishnashtami, and Sravya woke up very early. Bamma was sitting at the front door with a bowl of rice flour.

Dab, dab, dab. Bamma pressed her hand on the floor and made tiny white footprints. They went from the door, all the way to the puja room.

"Whose little feet are these, Bamma?" asked Sravya.

"These are little Krishna's feet," said Bamma. "Today is his birthday. Come, sit with me, and I will tell you his story."

Long, long ago, on a dark and rainy night, at midnight, a baby was born. He was Krishna. To keep him safe, his father Vasudeva put him in a basket and carried him across the big river Yamuna. The rain came down, but a great kind snake spread its hoods over the baby like an umbrella. Not one drop fell on little Krishna.

Vasudeva took him to the village of Gokulam. There, Mother Yashoda and Father Nanda held him close and loved him very much.

Little Krishna grew and grew. And do you know what he loved most of all? Butter! Soft, white, yummy butter.

The gopis in Gokulam would churn the milk, round and round, until the butter came. Then they put the butter in clay pots. But little Krishna kept finding the pots and eating the butter.

So the gopis tied the pots with ropes and hung them way up high.

High, high, high went the pot. But Krishna had a plan!

He called his friends. "Come, everyone! Let us make a tower!" The biggest boys stood at the bottom. Smaller boys climbed onto their shoulders. And little Krishna climbed to the very top.

High, high, high went the pot. But Krishna had a plan!

Krishna stretched up his little hand. Tap, tap, crack! The pot broke open, and out came the butter. Krishna shared it with all his friends. He even gave some to the monkeys!

When Mother Yashoda saw butter on his face, she put her hands on her hips. "Krishna! Did you eat the butter?" Krishna smiled his sweet smile, and Yashoda could not stay cross. She laughed and hugged him tight.

"And that is why," said Bamma, "on Krishnashtami, we break the uttis, just like Krishna did."

That evening, Sravya went out to the village street with Nanna. A clay pot hung high on a rope across the street. It was filled with butter and sweets.

The big boys stood in a circle. Other boys climbed on their shoulders. Everyone splashed water and shouted, "Govinda! Govinda!" Can you shout it too? Govinda! Govinda!

High, high, high went the pot. But the boys had a plan!

At the very top, little Ravi from next door stretched up his hand. Tap, tap, crack! Out fell the butter and sweets, and everyone cheered.

At home, Amma had made atukulu with butter and jaggery, and a cup of warm milk. Sravya ate it all up, and some butter stayed on her nose.

"Look," laughed Bamma. "Now you look just like little Krishna!"

Sravya giggled. She thought about the tower of friends. Nobody could reach the pot alone. But together, they reached it.

Now close your eyes, little one. Happy Krishnashtami. Good night.