Krishna Lifts Govardhan

Long ago, in the green village of Vrindavan, the sky turned grey.

Big clouds rolled over the hills. Then the rain came. It came down hard, like a thousand drums on every roof.

Tap, tap, tap went the rain on the leaves. Splash, splash went the puddles in the lanes. The river rose. The fields filled with water.

The cows stood close together. The children held their mothers' hands. The elders looked up at the dark sky. But no one ran about. Everyone stayed calm.

Little Krishna stood in the middle of the village. His yellow scarf was wet. His eyes were bright. He smiled his small, sweet smile.

"Come with me," he said. "There is room for all."

He walked to Govardhan hill. It was a big, round hill, full of trees and grass. Krishna put his hand under its edge. Then, very gently, he lifted it. Up, up, up it went, like a giant green umbrella.

He held the whole hill on his little finger.

The people gasped. Then they smiled. "Come," Krishna called again. "There is room for all."

Everyone walked in under the hill. The cows came slow and steady, their bells going ding, ding. The calves skipped beside them. The grandmothers came, leaning on their sticks. The children came running and laughing, shaking water from their hair.

Under the hill, it was dry and cosy. Outside, the rain kept drumming. Inside, the families sat close together.

Mothers shared warm rotis and milk. Grandfathers told old stories. The children played clapping games. A calf licked a little boy's cheek, and everyone laughed.

Day after day, the rain fell. Day after day, Krishna held the hill. He never looked tired. He smiled at everyone, and they smiled back.

"Are you tired, Kanha?" his mother Yashoda asked softly.

"No, Maiya," he said. "We are all together. There is room for all."

At last, one morning, the rain grew soft. Then it stopped. The clouds moved away. A warm, golden sun came out. The birds began to sing.

Everyone walked out into the shining fields. The grass sparkled with drops. The air was fresh and clean.

Krishna gently put the hill back in its place, just where it had always been. Not one leaf was out of place.

The cows mooed happily. The children danced. And the whole village hugged their little Krishna.