#krishna flute

[ramiarati]

Let your soul be as free as Krishna’s flute—ever resonating with love, beauty, and truth.

[beyourselfchulanmaria]

我喜歡柔和的聲音，以及籠罩著灰色的霧氣所帶來的寂靜。

Om Malik (ॐ प्रकाश मलिक) /b. 1966 indian-american web & technology writer, a San Francisco-based writer, also photographer, and investor. He founded and wrote content for Gigaom, which he sold in 2015 after it faced financial difficulty. He authored the book Broadbandits: Inside the $750 Billion Telecom Heist and articles by Malik have been published by The Wall Street Journal, Brandweek, and Crain Communications. He is now a partner at True Ventures. He's an amateur photographer and a Leica enthusiast. His website, PhotosByOm.com.

Krishna Flute · Madhava Composer: Madhava Vasudeva

I like the muted sounds, the shroud of grey, and the silence that comes with fog.

-- Om Malik

[soulfulrelaxingaudio]

Lord krishna flute music-Positive Vibration, Cleanse Negative Energy, Deep Meditation

[ichautari-blog]

Eternal Love Melodies: The Krishna-Radha Saga | Meditation Music | (बाँस...

[yourveryowndesigirl]

He's all I think about. He's all I talk about. He's all I want to be with. He's the one in my dreams. It's like every letter that starts with his name reminds me of him. It's like he's with me everytime. He's the first thing I think of when I wake up. He's the last thing I think about before sleeping. It's like the day he decided to grace me with his presence, I realised that I had no one except him, that he's all I need. He's that missing piece my soul is searching for. He somehow always becomes the part of my conversation. What has he done to me? What am I getting into? All my fears have been vanished. The day I started believing him, everything seems to make sense. Everything felt lovely. I found myself in situation that I could have never dreamt of. It was him, wasn't he? It's like the more I know him, the more I love and the more I love, the more I realise that my heart is an ocean and it can love him till their is no depth to search for like a sea and he's the one who has filled that sea. I want to hear him, I want to listen to him talk. I want my home. He's my home.

[lovelaughsimp]

Me wondering why do I like long hair in fictional men even when they are morally corrupted and I usually go for green flags but then I realised I grew up watching them

Honestly they made me a better person. Today whatever I'm is shaped by their teachings and learnings. 🩷

[keshavsmelody]

"Those who are devoted and have love for Me, in their constant contemplation of Me, their lives intertwined with Mine, they illuminate each other with their knowledge of Me, and their conversations are filled with the joy and contentment they find in Me." ~Bhagavad Gita 10.9

[krishna-sangini]

Okay, so, guys... This one might be a little weird.

HELL. A LOT WEIRD, BUT DON'T JUDGE ME OKAY, IT'S NOT MY FAULT! 😭

Anyway, I was scrolling through IG last evening when I came across a reel where the "Luka Chhupi" song was used.

Particularly these lines-

"आजा सांझ हुई मुझे तेरी फिकर धुंधला गयी देख मेरी नज़र आ जा न"

And I DON'T KNOW WHY my eyes immediately pooled with tears, and my mind immediately went to that flute boy staying out late in the forests, herding the cows... Like, I felt the panic and concern for a moment.

.

.

.

One moment I'm swooning over Him like a teenager and the next moment I'm turning into a freaking mama bear for Him.

What is this behaviour, me?! WHAT IS THIS WEIRD-ASS PSYCHOTIC BEHAVIOUR?!

Buuut yeah, it's understandable pretty much...right?

[krishnaart]

☀ SHRI KRISHNA GOVINDA ☀

[krsnaradhika]

Eh-

Not the best with poems but since I'm trying my moots shall suffer :)

The man I’ve loved ❤︎

A cluster of vibrant hopes and faith,

A man I dream of often.

The man who's the hero with a flute,

Lost in a thought unspoken.

A cluster of nebulous dreams and laughs,

A man I have loved in the shadows.

The man who's the hero with a flute,

Aiming at me with cupid's arrows.

A cluster of iridescent feathers and charms,

A man I have loved in prayers.

The man who's the hero with a flute,

Clasping my arms in paths unshared.

A cluster of love and vulnerable grasps,

A man I have loved like thousands,

The man who's the hero with a flute,

The man who's my soul’s lover.

[bhagavanbhakthi]

Beautiful Sri Krishna playing flute

[haribolnamaste]

Krishna and Balaram bring the cows back from the forest

[misterlemonzmen]

01-23-25 | Lord Krishna carries a flute. This must be he. MisterLemonzMen.tumblr.com/archive

[sambhavami]

The Lost Flute - Part 16 (Old Mistletoe)

Satyabhama stood contemplatively, leaning on the rails of the balcony in her old room, basking in the autumn sun, as she delicately ran her fingers through her cascading tresses, gently wringing them dry.

Her father had brought her up on many luxuries over the years. As a consequence, from a young age, she had become accustomed to the services of the countless servants who, in accordance with her father's orders, hung on to her every word, ready to fulfil any desire she might develop, be it day or night.

Her marriage to Krishna, while delighting her, had thrust Satyabhama without any warning, into a world she had not lived in for a very long time. Now, whenever she returned to her father's home, she was invariably bombarded with the incessant onslaught of exaggerated care, fuelled further by her mother's bemoaning.

In her mind, Satyabhama had etched a beautiful picture of their life together, even as she had impatiently waited for Krishna to wrap up the post-marriage rituals for his marriage to Jambavati.

She had already been warned around Krishna's near-mythical frugality, by most of the women in her family, but that hadn't curbed her dreams. Raja-gopala, she had whispered to herself, again and again, relishing the syllables as she had breathed in and out in an attempt to calm her racing mind. Her dreams had only blossomed to meld the vibrance of the wild, grassy landscapes of Vrindavan with the unbounded opulence of Dwarika.

Then, the first night they had spent together, in Satrajit's mansion upon his request.

The next morning, even before the rising sun, she had awoken in the empty bed to find Krishna outside. To be specific, she had found him sitting, engrossed in deep meditation, on the ledge past the marble rails. If she weren't lying to herself, she would have realized how moved she had been, simply gazing upon him, holy water still dripping from his luscious locks, cascading over his dark form.

At that moment however, swallowing a scream that had crept up her throat, Satyabhama had knelt on the other side, gingerly extracting his uttariya. She had then delicately run her fingers to tie his arm to one of the bars along the balcony. Then, she had propped herself up against the rails to his right, and drifted back to sleep.

She had woken up again only once the sun had risen into a bright morning. Pulling on her arm she had realized with a jolt of panic that Krishna had used the other end of his uttariya to tie her arm to the same rail.

She had looked up with a flushed face, to find Krishna still sitting cross-legged on the ledge, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. He had, also, not unbound his own arm.

She had pulled on the knot to realize that it was tied far tighter than what she could reasonably open. She had looked pleadingly at Krishna, who had been silently shaking with laughter.

"Say, Satyaa, wasn't your father going to check in on us this morning?" Krishna had teased her tantalizingly.

"Krishna!" She had pleaded, "I was just looking out for you. You might have fallen down trying to get back in!"

"And then you went to sleep, with no regards of what your father might think if he saw me tied to this side of the railing?" He had taunted, albeit with a smile on his face.

After a few more sweet nothings, Krishna had finally relented, and they had bumbled back into her room arm-in-arm.

Once she had moved into Krishna's house, she had been surprised at the emptiness. Interrogating the servants she had found out that Krishna usually only used four rooms in the mansion, and only the previous week he had designated another room to be prepared for her.

Krishna had laughed kindly when she had approached him cautiously about the same, "This is not emptiness, this is simply easier. Give it a few days, and you'll see it too!"

He had however given her free reins to decorate her own quarters as she saw fit. Hence, much to the chagrin of her mother, after stationing some of her father's gifted pieces of furniture haphazardly around the room, she had immediately filled up the remaining space with a variety of plants. She had always had a green thumb.

Soon, she had found that Krishna maintained simplicity in all aspects of his life, including the size of his personal staff. It had, however, taken some time for her to realize that Krishna expected the same of his wives.

With the passage of years, however, Satyabhama had come to appreciate the value of these measures. Her relationships with her co-wives had blossomed beautifully in the absence of a caravan of helpers to keep them apart, and they fared in each other's company much better than any other household that she knew of.

Now, that she was back to living with her parents again, she found herself sorely missing the little family that the four of them had built together. However, she had had little choice in the matter once her father had heard of her pregnancy.

After their marriage, Krishna had developed a persistent habit of dodging his father-in-law's attempts to take him home, much to the annoyance of the latter.

Hence, Satrajit had burst into their house within an hour of receiving the news, and dragged her off conspiratorially. "Let me see, how he avoids me now!" He had announced, grinning at his own ingenious plan.

"You are not to return unless he himself comes to fetch you, is that understood?" He had announced again and again, making Satyabhama break into silent bouts of laughter each time that he spoke of it.

For once, even Satyabhama's mother had agreed with her husband, "He doesn't even have sufficient help for my poor daughter!" She had exclaimed, "Let him come! I wish to know what exactly he spends all his money on, if not for his wives!"

But months had passed, and Krishna still hadn't found his way into Satrajit's dining hall.

One day after a few months, Satrajit had fruitlessly cornered his daughter, "Does he not love you, or what? Have I not been amply clear with my intentions here?" Satyabhama had shrugged noncommittally at her father before disappearing back into her room as fast as she could.

Unbeknownst to Satrajit however, on every other night, since the very night that he had brought her home, Krishna had stealthily climbed over that infamous ledge, and quietly slipped away before dawn.

"How much longer would you torment my father thus?" She had asked him one night, as she idly played with his curls.

"Would you rather I torment you?" He had grinned as he had turned over, on her lap.

"All he asks for is one dinner! How hard is it?" She had complained as she had pushed him back around.

He had pulled her back into an embrace, "Given our history, Satyaa, can you really blame me?"

She had huffed and swatted his hand away, "I don't know what fantasy you are reliving here, climbing into my bed in the dead of night like a thief, but I am getting tired of whatever you two have going on out there."

Krishna had sighed, finally giving up on his attempt to distract her, "I like your father well enough. It's just that bloody gem. It makes me uncomfortable, and your father wears it on his neck day and night! He is so protective of it that I can't even bring myself to ask him to remove it. But honestly, if it is up to me, then for the rest of my life, Satyaa, I do not wish to touch it, see it or even hear about that damned syamantaka!"

---

"Bhama dear!"

Satyabhama turned around from the balcony to find her nurse beckoning at her.

"What were you doing over at the edge there?!" She asked, glaring at the princess, "Sit!"

Satyabhama plopped down on one of the velvet asanas in the balcony without protest. Secretly, even she was just a little afraid of the old nurse who her mother had invited to stay with them for the duration of her pregnancy.

"There's a visitor for you. Some Shatadhanva. I shall send him back."

Satyabhama had straightened up at the mention of the visitor. Maybe Krishna had finally set aside his reservations and come to call on her?

However, she was happy enough to hear of the arrival of her childhood friend. He had left Dwarika right around the time of her marriage to Krishna.

She motioned towards the nurse, "Escort him in, please dai maa, I shall see him here."

"In your room? Are you sure?"

"Yes?"

"Would your husband like it?"

Satyabhama mustered up the sweetest smile she could, "Let me worry about my husband, please?"

The nurse left sour-faced and returned with a handsome young man. He was extremely fair-skinned and still sported his travel clothes, complete with a sword tacked at his waist.

Satyabhama jumped up, laughing, as she directed him to one of the other asanas opposite to hers.

For a few moments they sat in silence, as the nurse continued to bore a metaphorical hole in Satyabhama's skull through her burning glare.

Then, Satyabhama turned back and for a brief minute they both stared at each other, waging a mental war, and finally the nurse stomped out of the room reluctantly muttering a curse under her breath.

Satyabhama and Shatadhanva both broke into peals of laughter which died down once again into an awkward quiet.

Finally, Shatadhanva broke the silence.

"Congratulations!" He said, as he took out a small toy horse from his bag, and slid it over the table between them.

"Thank you." Satyabhama replied with an indulgent smile, as she picked it up to inspect. Then they both slipped into silence again.

"So!" Shatadhanva slapped his knee, "Elephant in the room! I proposed, and you said no."

"You did, and I did." Satyabhama nodded cautiously, unsure of the direction this conversation was taking.

"Well, I just wished for you to know that it's all okay. Water under the bridge! Also, I am completely over you!"

Satyabhama let out a sigh of relief, as she leaned over the table to hold his hand with a grin, "You're one of my oldest friends, Shatadhanva, but not exactly my type."

"Clearly," he nodded seriously, and after a moment, they both burst into laughter.

After almost an hour, Shatadhanva got up to leave. Satyabhama took his arm, and they made their way through the house.

"So, you are happy, right?" He asked as she nodded, "If not just let me know, I'll fight him if need be!"

Satyabhama laughed as she patted his arm, "Not necessary, but thanks for offering!"

She then sighed contentedly, "I am truly the happiest I could be! Oh, I can't wait till you two meet! How about next week? I'll send Krishna a message right now!"

Shatadhanva shyly shook his head, and making his excuses, ran onto the narrow street leading onto Satrajit's mansion.

Once he was out of there, he immediately let his shoulders sag and his pace slowed. After all, he had just spent the better part of the past hour lying through his teeth to his best friend.

Shaking his head, he droopily made his way over to his big brother's house.

[h0bg0blin-meat]

Kalki playing the ocarina and Krishna playing the flute.

(The artwork of Krishna is not mine. If you know the artist pls tag em.)

[tishangigoyal]

Typoday poster

Lord Krishna’s bansuri holds great significance in hindu mythology, particularly in the context of his childhood and youth in Vrindavan. The flute is often depicted as one of krishna’s most beloved attributes, symbolising his divine connection with nature and his devotees.

In this poster, krishna’s flute-playing is enchanting, and its melodies have the power to captivate the heart of living beings- gopis, animals and nature itself. The music symbolise the call of divine soul , inviting souls to transcend material desires and unite with God.