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A woman sits on the banks of the Yamuna River in Gokul, her eyes fixed on the gentle ripples that dance upon the water's surface.

Her attire bears the grace of a mother, adorned with vibrant hues that reflect the love she holds within her heart. This woman is none other than Maiyya Yashoda, the beloved mother of Kanha.

Her gaze is filled with a mixture of longing and anticipation as she reminisces about the days when her Kanha would play by the river, his mischievous laughter filling the air.

She can almost hear his sweet voice echoing in her ears, the memories of their precious moments together etched deeply in her soul.

As the wind whispers through the trees, caressing her face, Maiyya Yashoda's thoughts drift to the day when her beloved Krishna left for Mathura, called by a destiny greater than Gokul could offer.

The ache in her heart intensifies, and tears glisten in her eyes as she yearns for his presence once again.

She stretches out her hands towards the river as if trying to grasp the essence of her dear son. The waters of the Yamuna seem to hold a mystical quality, carrying the echoes of their past moments together.

In her heart, she feels a sense of emptiness, a void that can only be filled by the sight of Kanha's enchanting smile.

"Lala," she whispers, her voice filled with a deep yearning that reverberates through the air. "Mere pyare Kanhaiya, kahaan hai re tu? Kab lautoge apni maiyya ke aanchal mein?" (My beloved Kanhaiya, where are you? When will you come back to your mother's embrace?)

Maiyya Yashoda stretches her hand out towards the river as if trying to reach out to her beloved son across the vast expanse. "Maiyya ke pass vapas aaja, Lala. Teri Maiyya prati din tumhari pratiksha karti hai. Jagat tujhe divya manta hai, parantu apni maiyya keliye toh tu uska lala hi hai." (Come back to your mother, my child. Every day, I wait for you, yearning to hold you in my arms again. The world may consider you divine, but for your mother, you will always be her beloved Lala.)

A tear trickles down her cheek, a testament to the depth of her emotions. She longs to hold him in her arms once more, to feel his presence, and to see his mischievous smile lighting up his face.

The echoes of their playful moments together reverberate in her mind.

She recalls the times when Krishna would steal butter from the pots, leaving behind a trail of footprints as evidence of his escapades.

The laughter they shared, the bond they nurtured, and the unconditional love they exchanged were treasures etched in her heart.

"Maiyya?"

Startled, she turns her gaze toward the source and is met with the sight of a young girl standing before her.

The girl's beauty captivates Yashoda, for she bears a resemblance to none other than Goddess Lakshmi herself.

Her eyes, like pools of honey, hold a hint of mischief and innocence, twinkling with curiosity and wonder.

The shape of her cupid lips carries a natural rosy tint as if painted by pomegranates. Her brown hair cascades down in soft and silky waves, framing her face with elegance.

But it is her complexion that truly mesmerizes Yashoda. Creamy white, like fresh milk, it carries a delicate glow that rivals the moon's radiance.

The girl's aura exudes purity and innocence, her presence casting a spell of serenity and grace upon the surroundings.

Yashoda's gaze lingers on the girl's face, her eyes tracing the contours that seem to reflect the beauty of nature itself.

The arch of her brows resembles a perfect bow, framing her lotus-like eyes adorned with long, fluttering eyelashes.

These eyes, brimming with naivety and playfulness, hold the secrets of untold stories and untamed dreams.

It was like Yashoda was in the presence of a Goddess.

"Maiyya, why are there tears in your eyes?" the girl asks, her voice gentle and soothing, as if carrying a melody that could calm the stormiest of hearts.

Yashoda's gaze shifts from the girl's enchanting features to her compassionate eyes, and she feels a sense of familiarity wash over her. The girl's concern mirrors the love and care Yashoda had showered upon her own Kanha.

Though they are strangers, a profound connection seems to weave between them, transcending time and space.

A somber smile etches on Yashoda's lips, and she shakes her head at the girl, "Kuch nahi putri. Bas naitro mein mati chali gayi." (It's nothing, putri. Just a speck of dust in my eyes.)

The young girl's brows furrow with concern, her eyes searching Yashoda's face for answers. Sensing the depth of Yashoda's emotions, she takes a tentative step closer, her presence radiating a soothing energy that embraces Yashoda like a comforting embrace.

The young girl's voice carries a gentle curiosity as she softly speaks, "May I sit with you, Maiyya?"

Yashoda's eyes light up with warmth and affection as she nods her head, welcoming the girl's request.

She moves slightly to make space beside her, inviting the girl to join her on the grassy patch where she sits.

Taking a seat beside Yashoda at the banks of Yamuna, Jeevika turns to her, "Maiyya, mujhe pata hai ki ye ansoo vyakulata ka prateek hai." (Mother, I understand that these tears are a symbol of your anguish.)

Jeevika's presence brings a sense of comfort to Yashoda, as if the universe itself has conspired to send her a confidante in this moment of vulnerability.

Yashoda looks into Jeevika's eyes, searching for solace and finding a glimmer of understanding.

Yashoda's lips quiver for a moment, contemplating whether to share the depths of her heart with this stranger.

But there is something about Jeevika, an aura of compassion and empathy, that urges her to open up.

"Apne Lala, mere Kanha ka samaran kar rahi thi. Kuch varsho purva, mera lala mujhe or apne baba ko chod, Mathura chala gaya. Bas uski smriton mein yeh ashroo hai." (I was reminiscing about my Lala, my Kanha. Several years ago, he left me and his father to go to Mathura. These tears are a reflection of the memories I hold dear.)

As Yashoda pours out her heart, Jeevika remains fully present, her undivided attention focused on the words and emotions of the grieving mother.

Her eyes and heart brim with deep sympathy and understanding, even though she can't quite explain the profound connection she feels.

In the depths of her being, Vikasani senses a familiar ache, as if she, too, has experienced the loss of her own sons.

It is an inexplicable sensation that resonates within her, transcending the boundaries of time and space.

The longing in Yashoda's voice strikes a chord within her soul, igniting a shared sense of sorrow and yearning.

With a gentle and compassionate smile, Jeevika extends her hand and places it tenderly on Yashoda's trembling one. "Maiyya, I can sense the depth of your longing for your son. I, too, have experienced the pain of leaving loved ones behind. When I went to Gurukul, I left behind two mothers who hold a special place in my heart. Not a single day passes without thoughts of them or the ache of missing their presence."

Yashoda's eyes widen with surprise and a flicker of recognition. The words spoken by Jeevika strike a chord within her, resonating with her own experience of longing and separation.

It is as if their shared pain has woven an invisible thread, connecting their hearts in a profound way.

Tears glisten in Yashoda's eyes as she listens intently to Jeevika's heartfelt revelation. She can feel the authenticity and sincerity in Jeevika's voice, recognizing the depth of her emotions.

"Maiyya," Jeevika continues, her voice filled with empathy, "Sometimes, life's journey takes us on paths that lead us away from those we hold dear. But the love we carry within our hearts remains eternally connected, bridging the physical distance that separates us."

A mixture of emotions washes over Yashoda, a combination of sorrow and understanding. She clings to Jeevika's words, finding solace in the shared experience of longing for a loved one.

"Kaun ho tum, Putri?" Yashoda murmurs, her voice choked with emotion, "Bilkul mere Kanha ki bahti, meri saari peda har li tumne." (Who are you, Putri? Just like my Kanha, you have taken all my anguish away.)

Jeevika's eyes soften as she gazes at Yashoda, her heart touched by the mother's vulnerable words. "I have many names. Manushri, Aarna, Vachi, Vikriti, Padmakshi, Shreeja, Vikasani, Karwasani, and Krisha. But everyone else calls me Jeevika. You can call me whatever you want."

Yashoda raises an intrigued eyebrow as she listens to the girl's multitude of names, a gentle smile gracing her lips.

She ponders for a moment, her heart filled with the desire to find the perfect name that encapsulates the essence of their connection.

Yashoda's gaze meets Jeevika's, her eyes shimmering with a mix of gratitude and longing.

She searches within her soul for a name that carries the essence of her dear Kanha, a name that encapsulates their eternal connection.

"Kishori," Yashoda whispers, her voice filled with love and reverence, "I will call you Kishori."

A gentle smile graces Jeevika's lips as she hears the name. It is as if a delicate flower has bloomed within her heart, radiating the essence of youthful grace and divine love.

Jeevika's eyes sparkle with a newfound recognition, a glimpse of a forgotten past that begins to stir within her soul.

Though she doesn't yet grasp the full meaning of the name, a deep sense of familiarity washes over her, as if it carries a profound significance in her journey.

"Kishori," Yashoda repeats, a sense of familiarity and comfort washing over her. "Your presence brings solace to my heart, just as my Kanha's did. It feels as though destiny has conspired to send me a confidante, a companion who understands the depths of a mother's love."

"Kishori. I am absolutely fine with you calling me Kishori, Maiyya," Jeevika whispers her new name, her heart brimming with joy and a newfound sense of purpose.

Yashoda nods, her eyes filled with curiosity and intrigue. "Kishori, tell me, what brings you here? Traveling through the forest, when Suryadev is about to set?"

Jeevika's expression softens as she speaks, her voice carrying a hint of reverence. "My Gurudev has asked me for my Gurudakshina, Maiyya. For that, I have to travel to Gokul."

Yashoda's eyes widen with surprise and delight. "Gokul? That is my village, and my Arya is the chief of Gokul. Where are you staying, Kishori?" she asks, eager to know more about the connection between her beloved Gokul and this mysterious traveler.

"I don't have a place to stay. I was thinking of sleeping in the forest for the night." Manushri responds to the woman's inquiry, her voice tinged with a touch of weariness.

Yashoda's compassionate nature kicks into action upon hearing Manushri's plight. She can't bear the thought of someone sleeping in the forest, especially with the night approaching. Yashoda's heart swells with empathy as she considers her options.

"Kishori, you cannot sleep in the forest. It is dangerous at night. Come with me to my house. There, I will provide you with a place to rest and a warm meal," Yashoda insists, her voice brimming with warmth and kindness.

Manushri tries to decline, concern etched on her face. "Maiyya, how can I? I wouldn't want to burden you."

Yashoda's expression turns determined as she fixes her gaze on Manushri. "No. I am not accepting 'no' for an answer. You will stay with me and my Arya until you have to return. And will you say no to your Maiyya?"

Manushri's heart swells with gratitude as she looks into Yashoda's unwavering eyes. Overwhelmed by Yashoda's insistence and the genuine care she perceives in her words, Manushri's resistance begins to crumble.

She realizes that accepting Yashoda's offer is not just an act of kindness but also an opportunity to experience the warmth of a loving home, even if only for a short while.

With a soft smile, Manushri finally relents, her voice filled with heartfelt gratitude. "Maiyya, I am deeply touched by your kindness. Thank you for welcoming me into your home. I accept your generous offer, and I am honored to be considered your guest."

Yashoda's eyes shimmer with joy, her motherly instincts guiding her every action. She gently places her hand on Manushri's shoulder, a reassuring gesture that bridges the gap between them. "Kishori, my home is your home now. Consider me your Maiyya, and together we shall create beautiful memories during your stay."

A sense of belonging washes over Manushri as if fate has orchestrated this meeting to provide solace and companionship on her journey.

She realizes that this encounter with Yashoda is not merely a chance encounter but a profound connection woven by the threads of destiny.

With newfound hope and a grateful heart, Manushri follows Yashoda, as they make their way to the enchanting village of Gokul.

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Hello! I hope you guys like it

Please provide any suggestions that you guys have. I want to make this story interesting for you.

Please tell me what I can improve on and who you have liked so far.

Also, this is a work of fiction and my imagination, it is not to be taken offensively or seriously. Please refrain from reading if you are offended easily because this story will have changes.