You think

You can do

Just about everything?

Click your dark hued fingers

Smile a vibrant smile

And create magic?

People pay attention to the big stuff

Creating universes, killing demons

But what about

Classic domesticity?

My back almost broke daily

From carrying all that water from the river

All the way back home

You were sitting all this while

Caressing your beloved cattle

Playing your merry flute

Do you know

How difficult it is

To set a dishevelled almirah

Stuffed with clothes?

Absolute

Monotony.

Some that need to be ironed

Some that need to be washed

Ever tried that, Krishna?

I can tell you

It is so utterly

Boring.

A bored brain

Is a factory of misery.

Now that I sit

Amongst a pile of clothes, cleaning my shelves

Folding them, ironing them, some to be discarded

I realise

Your flute

Saved our lives

It saved us

You saved us

From a demon

Named boredom.

You were always a domestic God, weren't you?