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Each story will come in its time.
Sometimes he dispensed with his kingly jewels and wore only a peacock feather in his hair. He was fond of yellow silk, which he claimed went well with his complexion.
He called me by a special name, the female form of his own: Krishnaa. It had two meanings: the dark one, or the one whose attraction can’t be resisted.
words wasted energy. I would use my strength instead to nurture my belief that my life would unfurl uniquely.
wait for a man to avenge your honor, and you’ll wait forever.
“As for being pawns,” Krishna was saying, “aren’t we all pawns in the hands of Time, the greatest player of them all?”
“Love comes like lightning, and disappears the same way. If you’re lucky, it strikes you right. If not, you’ll spend your life yearning for a man you can’t have.
Expectations are like hidden rocks in your path—all they do is trip you up.
“time will teach you what you refuse to learn from your well-wishers.”
The heart itself is beyond control. That is its power, and its weakness.
Let the past go. Be at ease. Allow the future to arrive at its own pace, unfurling its secrets when it will.
Time is even and merciful.
Where Krishna is, victory lies there.
It’s only now I see that he’d always been there, sometimes in the forefront, sometimes blended into the shadows of my life. When I thought myself abandoned, he was busy supporting me—but so subtly that I often didn’t notice. He loved me even when I behaved in a most unlovable manner. And his love was totally different from every other love in my life. Unlike them, it didn’t expect me to behave in a certain way. It didn’t change into displeasure or anger or even hatred if I didn’t comply. It healed me.
Krishna’s love was a balm,
