Blu Lord

I was born in Guyana in a super small village where everyone knows the generations of families and, yes, every family gossip. It is the only English-speaking country in South America. I was born on Janmashtami, the Hindi blue lord, Krishna’s appearance day, hence my name, Radhaa, his consort ❤️🔥

My mom told me at an early age to worship only Lord Krishna. I spent most of my childhood with my mom while my dad was working and my sisters were helping my grandmother in her shop. Sometimes my mom would stay in the hospital, and I would need to relocate to my grandparents' house and attend school. While I was at my grandparents' house, I would sometimes assist in handing the customers their soda, candies, or pastries and returning their change.

In the neighboring village across from my grandparents' village, there was a Krishna temple. I grew up hearing the cartals and drums in the mornings and late at night. One of my tasks at my grandparents' house was to take the kerosene lamp and place it on the altar. Walking up the stairs in the dark, I would feel relieved to hear the loud cartals coming from the temple. In the morning, I also had to remove the offering flowers, remove the lamp, and refill the kerosene for the evening. My main focus on the altar was a picture of Krishna standing with a cow and holding his flute.

Some of the young men from the Krishna temple used to visit my grandparents' shop to get soda, and in this process, they would offer some Krishna books to my aunt and grandmother, who in turn would give a donation. My grandmother would give me the books to put in the bookcase. I would carefully place them in the bookcase, and when my grandmother was resting, I would take out one of the smaller magazines and flip the pages. I was not able to read full sentences at that age, but there were a lot of pictures of Krishna, as well as pictures depicting the stages of life and Srila Prabhupada. I used to stare at these pictures and wonder what the story was.

The American Krishna devotees from the temple made it a regular trip and after awhile, they invited my aunt to attend the temple's Sunday feast. My grandmother was strict and  me and my sister had to accompany my aunt.  The main temple room was situated on the second floor and the altar was huge with big deities nicely dressed. The prasadam was served downstairs in the courtyard, and I can still remember the taste because my sister was not pleased with the taste. There were a lot of nicely presented sweet dishes made of mangoes and other fruits. My aunt was not invited again or did not attend the temple again. However, I would peek at the devotees during their special parades and weddings and wonder what they were doing.

 When I relocated to the United States, I was aware of their location in Brooklyn, NY, and during my school time  I researched the address. However, I was not familiar with traveling to Brooklyn from Westchester by train, and so I decided to put the idea on hold. After I relocated closer, I was invited by a Krishna temple member to attend the Sunday feast. However, I never made the time.

Years later, I had a desire to attend, and I asked my sister to accompany me and during the aarti, we stood up, and I felt my hair on my body standing up, and I knew from that moment that my search was over.  

I  try to serve Krishna with whatever little resource and capacity i am fortunate to have. I choose to use my social media platform to raise awareness of Krishna and my love for him.