Krishna Janmashtami, the celebration of Lord Krishna’s birth, has always been more than just a festival—it is a thread that weaves together faith, family, and community. My earliest memories of this sacred occasion take me back to our home in Srinagar, Kashmir, where the festival was observed with unmatched enthusiasm and grandeur.
In those days, the elders of the family would keep a strict fast, an act of devotion that reflected their deep spiritual discipline. We, as children and teenagers, would also fast—not so much out of religious zeal, but out of a desire to be part of the occasion. Of course, our attention would inevitably drift towards the delightful dishes prepared especially for the fast: the creamy sweetness of sabudana kheer, the golden crispiness of fried potatoes, and the light, flavorful singhada flour fritters. The aroma of these treats would fill the house, making the long hours of fasting seem almost worth it.
These moments belong to a Kashmir that now exists only in memory—nearly sixty or seventy years in the past. Life took a painful turn when the Kashmiri Pandit community, including my own family, was displaced from the Valley. Yet, despite this forced exile and the scattering of our community across different corners of the country and the world, we have never let go of the tradition of celebrating Krishna Janmashtami. Wherever we may be—whether in small gatherings or large congregations—Kashmiri Pandits still mark this day with devotion, joy, and the same heartfelt enthusiasm that once filled the homes and temples of our beloved Valley.
It is impossible to speak of Krishna Janmashtami in Kashmir without remembering Swami Parmanand Ji, the revered poet-devotee of Lord Krishna. Among his works, Sudama Charit holds a special place. One of its most celebrated verses captures the very essence of the divine birth:
गटिमंज गाशाव चान्ये ज्यनय
जय–जय–जय दीवकी नंदनय।
(“At your birth, darkness transformed into light. Hail, hail, hail to you, O son of Devaki!”)
These words, once resonating in almost every Kashmiri household, are more than just poetry—they are a reminder of the hope and joy that Krishna’s birth signifies.
Today, as I reflect on those times, I find myself praying that Dayanidhi Madhusudan, the compassionate Lord Krishna, removes the sorrows of all, lights up our lives, and fills them with everlasting bliss.
