Radhe… do you now the meaning of Krishna?

Some say it means someone with a ‘dark skin’. Some say it means 'the attractive one’. Some describe it as the picture of a young boy playing a flute. For some, it is the sound of divine.

Some even say Radhe.. that it means the one who cultivates (Krish) the heart.

But shall I tell you the truth Radhe? I think it means the mad one…

Radha’s Krishna...aah…there is no other truth…is the mad one!

Whatever I have become Radhe.. whatever story I have left… whichever path that I have tread.. however many hearts that I filled… whosoever’s lives I colored… women I have owned…whosoever’s anguish that I have soothed…whichever battles that I have lead.. however many souls.. to whom moksha .. I delivered…the world found me .. in all these deeds…

But I Radhe, find myself, only in my madness, that you evoke.. I so love to own it Radhe. I so love to. 

For there is nothing truer than that that I experience. Nothing more indestructible. Nothing more absolute. Nothing far more mysterious. Nothing...simpler.

I just experience it.

My body speaks of it. My eyes on you…and my body simply starts speaking of it. A sudden pull inside. This heart beats faster…and I step into a certain numbness. And in that loss, there is a joy. In that joy, I find my soul. In my soul, I find you. In you, I find me. In me, I find this world. The universe. In the universe, I see those colours. Those colours, that are but draped in the folds of your clothing. That silk that so mysteriously seems...to drape me, my heart. Those folds, bury me. Oh, how happy I shall be, buried. The earth tastes sweet. Those few difficult breaths…my only life…

This is what happens to me Radhe…every time that I set my eyes on you. Every single time.

Rest is inadequate. Rest in immaterial. The only real…is the silk that drapes you.

Am I more of myself.. or do I lose myself.. then Radhe? I am already lost Radhe. 

For in these few moments, I have lived a hundred lives and died a thousand deaths. I see only mysterious colours and mysterious shapes. I die from your touch, breathe only your sweet scent… I do not know this state…is it life or is it death? I do not know Radhe..

I only know you.. and the ‘mad one’.