Krishna's Devotee!!! - ReviveRoots

The Last Scene I Wish to Carry in My Heart

As I journey deeper into awareness, I realize one eternal truth — everything in this world is an illusion. All relationships are fleeting shadows. Yet, amidst this great illusion, there is one bond in human form that shines with unmatched love and light, guiding us unfailingly towards the Divine — the bond with Mother.

Even the father’s love is profound, but it is the mother’s embrace, her sacrifices, her unconditional grace that is supreme. In her, I see the living altar of divinity.

Before I leave this world — before I transcend this illusion — the last scene I wish to hold in my heart is this:

My mother as Anjani Mata, myself as Hanuman Ji, and before her stands Lord Ram. As per the sacred katha, Lord Ram, the very embodiment of dharma, bows before Anjani Mata with folded hands and says:

“Dhanya, dhanya ho Anjani Mata,
jinhone aise Lal ko janm diya.”

Blessed indeed is Anjani Mata, who gave birth to such a son.

For me, Krishna is everything — the all-pervading presence. But in my heart, when I live this scene, I see Him not just as the Creator, but as the Lord of love, the eternal guide of the soul. In that divine vision, the Lord Himself bows at my mother’s lotus feet, honoring her love, her sacrifices, and her nurturing presence that shaped me into who I am.

Sometimes, I even meditate on this very scene — as if rehearsing my final moment as a human. Each time, it draws me into a transcendent state, where tears of gratitude and devotion flow. In that stillness, I feel an immense motivation: to be good, to do good, and to live in service.

And so, in my final breath, I pray that the last image I carry is of this divine scene:

My mother, radiant as Anjani Mata.

Myself, ever her Hanuman, forever in her service.

And the Lord Himself — as Krishna, the Creator — bowing in reverence at her lotus feet.

For in truth, to be born of such a mother is itself God’s greatest blessing.
And the feet of the mother will forever remain the first temple where Divinity dwells.

In the name of friendship – My search ends in Krishna

In childhood, I witnessed and encountered many situations I never spoke about—not with friends, not even with family. I carried them quietly, like invisible weights on my young shoulders.

There were moments when I heard people badmouthing my parents and siblings—saying things no child should ever have to process. And I stayed silent. Maybe because I didn’t know how to speak up. Maybe because I feared being misunderstood.

My father sacrificed his life at work, and my mother gave her all at home. Both were deeply devoted, intellectually inclined souls. Yet, the world still found reasons to disrespect them. And I, as a child, didn’t know how to handle that dissonance—between the love I felt and the judgment I saw.

There was also an age gap between me and my elder sisters. While they were growing into their own worlds, I often found myself alone. Not unloved—but lonely.

I didn’t have a friend I could truly call my own.

Back then, that “best friend” label meant everything. It was what every classmate flaunted. It was the norm, and not having that made me feel like I was missing something fundamental.

Looking back now, I realise the root of my loneliness wasn’t just about not having someone to talk to.

It was about not feeling understood.
It was about the emotional burdens I carried silently.
It was about being surrounded, yet unseen.

And most of all—it was about my yearning for true connection, a quiet hunger to be met with presence and compassion.

I gave my all wherever I went—and yes, I expected in return. Because I’m human, not a saint. And human hearts crave mutuality.

But that giving often came with pain.
I was broken, shattered, betrayed, used.
And slowly, life taught me something essential:

That I was seeking at the wrong place.

Along the way, I met different people—friends who felt like answers, soulmates, companions.
Some stayed for a while. Others came and left like seasons.

And they taught nothing is permanent in life.

But with time and reflection, something shifted.

I now understand: it was never about having someone to share everything with.
It was about Being—
Being accepted.
Being seen.
Being held—not in performance, but in presence.

And my seeking ends here.

For I now seek everything in Krishna—
The friend I always dreamt of.
The one who was always there when I felt lonely.
The one I failed to recognise.

That divine presence within me—the quiet wisdom guiding me through the chaos—was Him.
He was assisting me in silence, watching over my broken moments, holding space in my solitude.

I thought I lacked a best friend.
But truly—I’ve always had the best one anyone could ever ask for.

My eternal companion. My Krishna.