The Animals
Krishna smirked and questioned the individuality of beings as everything stood beside him like he was shelter. They gave him helpless looks. Or so he thought. Krishna told them that they should not be scared. He was born in the cracks of a storm alike. And Vasudeva had but a basket of straw to keep the flooding waters from the day old baby. He told them that there wasn’t anything to fear in this world that eats everyone alike. There were pigs and cows and dogs and sheep. There were snakes and cats and lions and elephants.
Every being had been drawn to represent something. Pigs were dumb; cows were lazy; dogs were faithful; sheep mute; snakes dangerous; cats wily; lions brave; elephants fat. Krishna smiled at all the creatures and asked them if that was all there was to them. He was a brave one, Krishna! To stand amidst creatures that had preconceived reputations. But they didn’t snort or moo or bark or bleat. They didn’t hiss or purr or roar or trumpet! They just stood there, staring at him. Krishna wondered. For he thought that he had told them of something that they weren’t aware of; they didn’t know that that was what men thought of them! He thought that they wondered if that was all there was to them. He gloated that he had sparked the eternal question of life in them.
But, as life would have it, they were not given to think, though. Krishna smiled back at them and promised them of a more impressive life that wasn’t just what men thought. The animals seemed to listen as the rain poured like upturned buckets of muddy water. The unceasing rain would stop in an hour and the animals would walk away to the safety of their homes.
There was more to them than what men thought. They knew to care less and prided in their individuality. They knew no fear. And they could be everything that every animal could be.
Krishna stood drenched in the rain that now wet his curly black hair. The tree that he had hidden under was gone with the elephant that was now heard trumpeting in the distance. Trumpets still talked of triumph. And what a triumph it was!
Every being had been drawn to represent something. Pigs were dumb; cows were lazy; dogs were faithful; sheep mute; snakes dangerous; cats wily; lions brave; elephants fat. Krishna smiled at all the creatures and asked them if that was all there was to them. He was a brave one, Krishna! To stand amidst creatures that had preconceived reputations. But they didn’t snort or moo or bark or bleat. They didn’t hiss or purr or roar or trumpet! They just stood there, staring at him. Krishna wondered. For he thought that he had told them of something that they weren’t aware of; they didn’t know that that was what men thought of them! He thought that they wondered if that was all there was to them. He gloated that he had sparked the eternal question of life in them.
But, as life would have it, they were not given to think, though. Krishna smiled back at them and promised them of a more impressive life that wasn’t just what men thought. The animals seemed to listen as the rain poured like upturned buckets of muddy water. The unceasing rain would stop in an hour and the animals would walk away to the safety of their homes.
There was more to them than what men thought. They knew to care less and prided in their individuality. They knew no fear. And they could be everything that every animal could be.
Krishna stood drenched in the rain that now wet his curly black hair. The tree that he had hidden under was gone with the elephant that was now heard trumpeting in the distance. Trumpets still talked of triumph. And what a triumph it was!
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