I have been labelled as the strongest woman in Indian history.

The woman

Who broke social norms

Sacrificed her all

All being her beloved

Who fortunately, unfortunately happened to be

A God.

Truth to be told, Krishna

I am not that strong

I am so incredibly fragile

Like that peacock feather of yours.

Yes, that's who I am

I sway to your tunes

Every breath in my body

Every atom of my being

Is living for your music

And the soft, nonchalant whispers of yours

What they do to me, you've no idea.

The blood in my veins

Runs because you are

And you are

So I am.

Tell me, Krishna?

How do you expect me to be then

After the feather

The music

The whispers

You

Left?

No one knows.

No one shall ever know.

Not even you do

Or will.

For I have

Not let anyone ever know.

Don't buy those folklores, Krishna

They're untrue.

I have not let anybody know

What I became

What happened to me

What I felt

After that fateful day.

For I knew it would reach your ears

And you might be my all

But I am not selfish.

I would not let my love

Come in between you

And Your worldly duties.

I knew, always

One day you would come home

Tired, exhausted

And once in the entirety of history

You would

Ask me to sing to you

And put you to sleep.

And that has made me live

All my life

In apparent serenity.