Vrindavan

Who ever has been to Vrindavan has a Vrindavan of his or her own. There are as many Vrindavans as there are people who have experienced it. Vrindavan is a state of mind — for its visitors and for its inhabitants. Vrindavan is a state of heart of the pilgrims to the threshold of the Divine, who come here to touch, taste, and find pure love.

Far from Montenegro, there is a mysterious place with a magnificent history and legends. Fate or divine mercy has brought me here to fulfill the innermost wish of my heart — to know, understand, and look for the hidden truth.

The place remembers thousands of years, ancient as the Vedas singing of its glory. The prevailing costumes are just as old. Yet, there is an eternal, untouchable, sacred Vrindavan that, according to native belief, is kept by Shri Radha, the Queen of Infinity, Beauty, and Eternal Love. She is Absolute Love and it is believed that she still rules Vrindavan.

“No one can come to Vrindavan unless invited by her,” an old woman told me in a temple, emphasizing how blessed and happy I am to be here.

Shri Radha is on the altar of all the temples in Vrindavan and she sits there in a demure, coy embrace with her eternal lover Shri Krishna. She is the embodied Absolute Truth. Legend says that when God felt infinite bliss and happiness, the happiness there turned into Shri Radha. The earth I step on now is the kingdom of this Divine Queen. Here even the air shudders with the bliss of living with God.

Radha and Krishna always play together in Vrindavan. Krishna is a local shepherd, and she is the Kingʼs daughter. This is their most intimate corner… written in the sacred books recently discovered.

Here it is different from Montenegro with its mountains, its sea, and rocks — here lies the sand of the Rajasthan desert.

Although another culture lives here, its people are somehow similar to mine. They are simple, of noble character, and deeply religious. Their customs and ethics are so alike to those I was taught in my childhood. I wanted to peer into the hearts of the people I meet at this sacred place. Should I have been able to understand the message of their hearts and lives?

This is a place of pilgrimage, like Mecca, Jerusalem, and the Mount Ostrog, Medjugorje, or Avila. Thousands of people visit Vrindavan every day to receive a blessing from this sacred place — as if here they will find all the answers to the questions of life and death.

The atmosphere and the rhythm of life are so dynamic that one is never bored, while attempting to see all five thousand temples in Vrindavan — centuries-old buildings with unusual, splendid architecture of the East. Those older than five thousand years are gone now, destroyed during the passes of the Muslim aggressor.

Yet the land stayed intact — the little hill Govardhan, the river Yamuna, and a few stones with the imprint of Krishnaʼs feet, hands, and his flower garland stayed to witness the times of before, recorded on the pages of the sacred books and into the hearts of blessed people who were, with the will of goodness, born here to live their lives.

I have seen a rock imprinted with the flower garland worn by Krishna when, five thousand or so years ago, He visited earth. The community and the priests tell of the garland falling from Krishnaʼs neck on that rock the moment Krishna saw Radha. From the warmth and the weight of love Krishna carried within him, the rock melted — and so the petals stayed imprinted on the rock.

Radha was wearing a most beautiful shawl, which, when she wanted to fly away seeing Krishna (it is how they always played), fell on the rock on the other side of the little hill. I could clearly see the pattern, contours, and embroidery of her shawl preserved in the rock.

This was not the first time I walked through Vrindavan and met beautiful, unusual people. My mind kept recording the meaning of ancient wisdoms recognized in this unusual place, by these people, and by my heart. Maybe I will learn something from them and this magic place.

The sacred books say that the most intimate of Godʼs festivities, in the remote and magnificent Vrindavan, are hidden behind the anxiety and desire in the hearts of truth seekers.

“This Vrindavan,” says an old wise man, “is the magical reality of another world, the world eternal and invulnerable, built on love, happiness, and knowledge.”

I wondered if I would find the world of eternal being… or if perhaps I would remain on the surface of the limited understanding of my own reality and my own illusion. I wanted to let sacred people and sacred books be my guides — and most of all, to let my desire to discover, to understand, and to find the Vrindavan of my own heart lead me on my quest to the ancient and invulnerable world where my eternal reality rests.

If you’d like, I can also make a poetic-visual blog layout for this with pull quotes, dividers, and captions for the legends so it feels like a travel-and-spiritual diary. That would make it more immersive for readers. By vesnaanastasia

“Coloured Footprints – Live My India by Vesna Anastasia Bozovic”