Janmashtami marks the birth of Krishna, born in secrecy, smuggled past guards, and carried across a swollen Yamuna River under a monsoon sky. His uncle, King Kansa, had sworn to kill him, fearing a prophecy that the child would be his downfall.
Yet even in those first moments, Krishna’s story was about more than survival, it was about possibility.
Krishna is not only the divine strategist and cosmic guide; he is also the butter thief, the prankster, the friend, the protector. These stories are not dusty relics of mythology. They are blueprints, reminding us how courage, curiosity, and compassion take root.
Mischief as a Sign of Life
Then:
In the village of Gokul, the women kept their butter high up in clay pots, convinced that would keep it safe. But Krishna, small, wiry, eyes like storm clouds, would form conspiracies with other children, stack stools, climb the shoulders of friends, and pry open the pots. He’d smear the creamy makhan on his face, feed his friends, and leave behind a trail of clay shards. The elders pretended outrage, but the twinkle in their eyes betrayed affection. In the devotional view, this wasn’t vandalism, it was lila, divine play, proof that joy itself can be sacred.
Now:
Psychologists see the same pattern in today’s children. Exploration as a path to understanding. When a child disassembles a toy or sneaks a taste of dessert before dinner, it’s often less about disobedience and more about testing boundaries, honing problem-solving skills, and learning the mechanics of their world.
Bravery Comes in All Sizes
Then:
One season, heavy rains pounded Gokul. The villagers, desperate, prepared a grand ritual to appease Indra, the god of storms. Krishna, barely a boy, questioned why they should fear a deity when they had the sacred Govardhan Hill, whose forests, streams, and pastures sustained them daily. Angered, Indra unleashed a deluge meant to drown the village. In response, Krishna lifted the entire hill with one hand, creating a vast shelter where humans and animals huddled together for seven days. The message: true courage is protecting the vulnerable, even if it means defying power.
Now:
In modern leadership studies, courage is less about titles and more about action. Children often rise to responsibility, whether that’s defending a classmate, caring for a sibling, or challenging an unfair rule, when they feel trusted and supported. Like the villagers under Govardhan, belief in their capacity is what lets them hold the weight.
The Serious Work of Play
Then:
When Krishna played his flute, the sound was said to melt anger, pause chores mid-task, and draw even the cows closer. In the evenings, he would join the gopis in the raas leela, dancing in a circle where every participant felt as though Krishna danced only with them. In scripture, these moments are not distractions from duty, they are the duty, an embodiment of bliss that connects the community.
Now:
Neuroscience tells us that play strengthens emotional intelligence, empathy, and social bonds. A child inventing a backyard game or choreographing a living-room dance isn’t “wasting time,” they’re rehearsing for the kind of collaborative, joyful life that binds communities together.
Wealth Beyond Gold
Then:
Years later, Krishna’s boyhood friend Sudama, now a poor Brahmin, traveled days on foot to visit him. Nervous and empty-handed, Sudama carried only a humble gift of flattened rice, embarrassed by its simplicity. Krishna welcomed him with unrestrained warmth, washing his feet before taking the gift in both hands and eating it with delight. The palace walls might have glittered, but the heart of the story is this, friendship measured not by wealth, but by love.
Now:
Sociologists call this “relational wealth,” the trust, loyalty, and care that shape our lives more profoundly than possessions. For children, the values learned in friendship, sharing without keeping score, valuing someone for who they are, become the emotional capital they carry into adulthood.
Letting the Leela Unfold
Janmashtami is more than a festival. It’s a reminder that possibility often emerges from the most unlikely conditions. Krishna’s stories urge us to raise children who can question without losing respect, lead without losing joy, and carry heritage without being weighed down by it.
Our role is not to script their every move, but to make space for their own leelas. The daring acts, the gentle friendships, the small braveries that announce, “I am here, and I am ready.”
Loved this? There’s more brewing every week. ☕