The real story of Radha’s death, and rebirth ?

The real story of Radha’s death, and rebirth ?

There is a secret on the sacred land of India which has neither been fully written in any book nor fully explained by any guru. Radha Krishna’s most beloved, his soul, his power without whom even Krishna’s name is incomplete. But there is a question that has been lingering for centuries. The real question is how did Radha become so great? His name is not found in the Vedas. He is not mentioned even in the Upanishads or in the original Mahabharata and Ramayana. Yet today the whole of India wakes up in the morning and the first thing they say is Radhe-Radhe. In temples Radha’s name is taken before Krishna and Radha Krishna has become one word. But why so? This is the biggest secret. The answer to this is given by the Brahmavayavarta Purana. It says that Radha was not an ordinary woman but was the supreme power of Krishna. That part of his soul that manifested in a different form on Earth. Just as the flame of one lamp lights another. Both look different. But their origin is the same. Similarly, Radha and Krishna were also two forms of the same element. In simple words, even Krishna was incomplete without Radha. Both met in Vrindavan. The Raas Leela took place under the Kadamba tree on the banks of the Yamuna. The flute played and a love blossomed that was like no other. There was no selfishness in it. There was no demand for it. There was only surrender in it, completely unconditional. One day early in the morning, Akrur ji’s chariot arrived in Vrindavan. There was a call from Mathura. Kansa had to be killed. A king had to perform his duty. Krishna had to go. And they went too. That day Radha was standing on the banks of Yamuna. The sound of a chariot was heard from a distance. Then that chariot appeared. Then Krishna appeared. Sitting on the chariot, the chariot moved calmly and steadily. Slowly he moved away and Krishna did not look back even once. Radha stood there. She did not cry, did not scream, did not speak, she just kept watching. Then until the chariot was completely out of sight. That was the moment that changed everything. Krishna went, went to Mathura. Then he established Dwarka and married Rukmini. A new life began and Radha remained in Vrindavan. The same Yamuna, the same ghats, the same Kadamba tree, the same paths where the sound of Krishna’s footsteps could once be heard. Years passed. Then more years passed. Radha’s wait is not over. After Krishna’s departure, Radha’s life was divided into two parts. There was a life that was, and there was a life that was just passing by. In the morning Radha goes to the banks of Yamuna. Same water, same waves, same trees. But not the sound of the flute. There is no sound of Krishna’s footsteps. Just a deep silence. Days passed. Months passed. Years passed. Krishna was in Mathura. Kansa was dead. Then he went to Dwarka. Established an entire kingdom. Rukmini came, Satyabhama came. More queens came and Radha was in Vrindavan. Waiting at the same place. People used to ask Radha, why don’t you go to Krishna? Why don’t you go to Dwarka? No one knows Radha’s answer. But perhaps there was no need for an answer. Because Radha knew that Krishna was not just hers. Krishna belonged to the whole world. He belonged to the entire universe and keeping someone who belongs to the entire world just as your own is not love. This was Radha’s love in which you erase yourself and free Krishna. But it wasn’t easy. At night when Vrindavan was asleep. When the waters of Yamuna shone in the moonlight, Radha would sit alone and sometimes only one name would come out of her mouth. Watch the Krishna video till the end and subscribe to Anant Gatha channel. Friends, after this Radha ji went to live in a quiet and secluded grove of Vrindavan. It was as if time had stopped there. Now Radha had become old. His body was bent. Years of wrinkles had appeared on his face. But his heart was still the same. The same heart of young Radha which beat only for Shri Krishna. Whenever a faint tune of flute was heard from somewhere far away. A unique glow would appear on Radha’s face. It seemed as if the entire Vrindavan came alive behind his closed eyelids. When Shri Krishna went to Mathura, Radha neither married anyone nor sought any support from anyone. She started living alone in the same secluded grove of Vrindavan. His life was very simple. Waking up with the sunrise, going to the banks of Yamuna to offer water and then returning to one’s small hut. After that just wait. It seemed as if he had complete faith. One day Shri Krishna will definitely return. The villagers considered her a saint. No one knew his name. Nor his clan. But everyone knew one thing. Whoever this woman is, her entire existence resides in just one name. Shri Krishna Time passed and then one day something different happened. That day Radha was offering water on the banks of Yamuna. Suddenly he looked towards the sky. The wind stopped for a moment. The leaves of the trees became still. The sound of the birds also became silent and at that very moment a deep feeling of sorrow ran through Radha’s heart. It wasn’t fear. It was a sign of some deeper calling. As if the entire universe was calling them. That evening Radha sat near Tulsi outside her hut. There was silence for some time. Then she said softly, now the time has come for me to leave. But I will not go just like that. She bowed to Tulsi and said, I will give up my life only when Lord Krishna himself appears before me. When they call me with their mouths. Radhe. The villagers were shocked to hear this. Will the Lord of Dwarka really come to this secluded grove? But no one doubted Radha’s devotion. Because questioning the faith of someone who lives his entire life in love is also considered a sin. Meanwhile, in Dwarka, Shri Krishna had everything. Despite his kingdom, wealth, fame and respect, there was a strange emptiness within him that night. He closed his eyes and then it was as if someone whispered very softly in his ears. Radhe Shri Krishna’s eyes became moist. He immediately stood up. No farewell, no announcement. He just started walking towards Vrindavan. When they reached the door of that secluded grove. He saw him with his eyes closed near the Tulsi tree. Radha was sitting with a slight smile. She was engrossed in meditation. There was a deep silence in the grove and then a voice echoed through the silence. Radhe just one word. But the entire universe was contained in that one word. Radha’s eyes slowly opened. A glow spread across his face that comes neither from the sun nor from a lamp. That glow was of love. Love that has been waiting for ages. Radha smiled. The same smile that once blossomed in the evenings of Vrindavan. He said in a calm voice, Lord, now the time has come for me to leave. My soul now wants rest. Shri Krishna did not say anything. He just gently held Radha’s hand. Gradually Radha’s breathing started calming down. Just as a lamp slowly goes out without any shock when the oil is finished. No pain, no struggle, just a peaceful pause. And at that very moment Radha left her body under that sacred Tulsi tree. But this was not the end. Actually this is where the mystery started. Radha’s soul had attained salvation. But his last words were still echoing in the heart of Shri Krishna. Before leaving her body, Radha said softly, Lord, when the meaning of love starts disappearing from this earth when people start forgetting love, then I will have to return because love cannot be allowed to die. The place where Radha left her body that night. A wonderful incident happened there. The next morning a small plant had grown at the same spot. No one had sown seeds there. No one even gave me water. Still the plant stood there. Exceptionally bright as if it had descended from heaven. Her aura seemed more divine than Tulsi. Gradually the people of the village came to know about this. People started coming there. Lamps started burning, prayers started being offered and soon people started calling it Radha tree. But no one knew that a secret was growing in the roots of that tree which would one day shock the whole world. Many ages passed, times changed, people changed and as Radha had said, gradually the meaning of love also started changing. People talked about love, but they were forgetting how to live it. Relationships started to be built on selfishness and started to break down because of selfishness. At the same time, a girl was born in the house of a farmer in a small village some distance away from Barsana. She was named Lalita. From the very beginning, the people of the village started feeling that there was something different in this girl. She started playing the flute without anyone teaching her and the tune of her flute was not an ordinary tune. Whenever she played, the birds would fall silent. The wind would slow down and even the leaves on the trees would seem to stop. The villagers said among themselves that this is not an ordinary girl. Seeing this reminds me of Radha. Time passed and when Lalita turned 7, one day she was sitting alone on the banks of Yamuna. As if waiting for some. Just then a saint passed by there. His eyes fell on Lalita and he suddenly stopped. They stared at him for a while. Then he slowly approached her and looked into her eyes and at that very moment his hands trembled. There was the same depth in those eyes, the same sparkle, the same unspoken love that he had seen so long ago. The saint’s eyes became moist. He said softly, the same eyes, the same smile, Radha, you have returned. Lalita often had strange dreams. Every night a dark complexioned man would appear before her. He did not say anything. He would just sit quietly and play the flute and that tune would go deep within Lalita. As if there was an old door in her heart that she recognized but couldn’t remember. Lalita asked her mother one evening. What is motherly love? Mother smiled. He said, stroking her head. You are still a child. What do you know about love? Lalita became silent. But there was a deep mystery in his eyes. A chronic pain is also a pain that does not come from any injury. That pain is born when the soul remembers someone. But she cannot remember whom. When Lalita turned 13. One day she was sitting on the banks of Yamuna and playing the flute. And then something strange happened. Suddenly a different tune started coming out of his flute. The tune he had never learned. The same tune that the dark-skinned man used to play in his dreams. Lalita’s hands stopped. But the tune was still floating in the air. At that very moment the soil near his feet shook slightly. A small crack appeared in the ground and a statue appeared from within the crack. Lalita picked it up with trembling hands. It was a statue of a woman. That woman had a flute in her hand and the same smile on her face which seemed very familiar to Lalita. But she couldn’t remember where she’d seen that smile. As he held the idol in his palm. Suddenly a voice echoed. That voice was not ordinary. She was deep, she was divine. As if it is coming not from within the earth but from within time. A voice came, you have returned Radhe. Lalita’s hands trembled. The flute fell from his hand. His heart started beating faster. Who was this? And this name is Radhe. How could this name be his? Lalita changed after that day. She was no longer the calm child she once was. A deep peace and a mystery had descended within him. The same question kept arising in his mind again and again: Who am I? Why was I born? And why does my heart tremble like this when I hear the name of Krishna? At the same time, a saint was returning to Barsana from the Himalayas after completing years of penance. When his eyes fell on Lalita for the first time, he stopped. For a few moments, he just stared at her. Then it came out slowly from his lips. I saw these same eyes ages ago. Radha’s eyes, he came to her and said, girl, you are not of this era, you have been born for a special purpose. Lalita’s heart started beating faster after listening to the saint. He asked what purpose? The saint closed his eyes. As if you are preparing to put into words some deep truth. Then he said that in this era love has become just a word. People talk about it but don’t live it. You have to revive that love. A new story was about to be born in the quiet streets of Barsana. But the truth was that this story was not new. It was the same old story that never ended. Time passed by. Lalita had now reached adolescence. But a strange uneasiness had started to settle within him. As if someone was calling him from a distance. But the sound is not heard. She often went to the banks of Yamuna at night. Sitting there, she would look at the sky and remember the unknown face that came in her dreams. That dark complexioned man who did not say anything. He would just sit quietly and play the flute. Lalita asked her mother one evening. Mother, can love happen without saying anything? Mother smiled. He said, daughter, true love is the one that happens without saying anything. Mother felt that she had found the answer to her question. But Lalita was thinking something else. Her heart was beating for someone she had never met in this life. After some time the same saint calls Lalita to his ashram. There was a different sparkle in his eyes that day. He said softly Radhe, the time has come. Lalita’s breathing stopped. The saint said that Krishna has already been born in this era. But this time he is not the king. He was born a Brahmin. And now you have to find them. Hearing this, Lalita’s heart started beating faster. The moment his soul had been waiting for for ages was now upon him. But a question arose in his mind. How will I recognize them? The saint smiled. When they come across your path, you don’t have to ask anybody. You will know yourself. Then his tone became serious. But remember Lalita, this time the exam will be more difficult than ever before. Now your love will not be only yours. This time you will have to face the society and explain the real meaning of love to the whole world. Somewhere far away there was a young sage named Anantanand. He would go from village to village and give sermons. When he talked about love, people’s eyes would fill with tears. Where does he do that? Love is not a physical relationship. Love is a connection of the soul and true love means sacrifice and surrender. People say that this saint is not ordinary. But there was one truth that no one knew. Not even Anantananda himself. Every night he too would go and sit on the banks of Yamuna. I would look at the sky and get lost in the dream of that unknown woman. The woman’s face was blurred. But the tune of his flute resonated deeply in Anantananda’s heart. Both were incomplete and neither knew that they were searching for each other. One day Lalita touched the feet of her parents. She had a small flute in her hand and a strong determination in her heart and then she set out. She kept wandering from village to village in search of her unknown love. She would meet saints, talk to people and listen to stories. Every time a new hope was born and every time that hope was shattered. Because the brilliance she was looking for was not present in anyone. Eight villages passed. There was fatigue in his legs but there was no defeat in his heart. Then he met an old woman on the way. The old woman looked at him carefully and recognized the same sparkle in his eyes that had once been in Radha’s eyes. The old woman smiled and said, daughter, you don’t need to look for what you are looking for. Just play your flute. The music that is made for you will automatically be drawn by your tune. That night Lalita climbed a high hill. He picked up his flute and slowly began to play it. The tune of the flute started dissolving in the air. It flowed over the rivers that crashed into the hills and spread for miles. At the same time, Anantananda, sitting in a cave far away in the Himalayas, suddenly became teary-eyed. He didn’t understand why. But there was something in that tune as if someone had knocked on a closed door within him. Yet Lalita had not yet discovered him. Days passed. Hope slowly began to fade and one night, tired and defeated, Lalita sat down on the banks of the Yamuna. He looked up at the sky and vowed. If I don’t find him by the next full moon night, I will drown myself in this Yamuna. The night of the full moon was approaching. That night Lalita picked up her flute for the last time. The fingers were shaking. The eyes were filled with tears. But when he played the flute, the tune that came out of it was not ordinary. That tune pierced the darkness of the night and reached the sky and at that very moment Anantananda sitting in the cave of the Himalayas suddenly stood up. That tune, the same tune, as if someone had been calling him for years. He closed his eyes and for the first time a word came out from within him. Radhe, that very night Anantananda left the Himalayas, there was no farewell, no reason, just a strange pull which was taking them in some unknown direction and that very night Lalita again had a dream of Yamuna calm banks, slowly flowing water and Radha and Krishna were sitting on that bank, Radha asked in a low voice, Lord, will this time too my love story remain incomplete, Krishna did not smile, Radhe, this time the world will see the completeness of your love and then the dream broke. Lalita’s eyes opened but this time there was no disappointment within her. A new hope had ignited in the heart. As soon as morning came, Lalita got up and started towards Vrinda Dham. It is said that Radha saw Krishna for the last time here and took her vow by touching this rock. Until their love story is complete. They will keep coming back again and again. That day a story was being narrated in Vrinda Dham and the narrator was none other than Anantananda. Lalita was standing far away in the crowd. He could not see his face clearly. But his words were going straight to his heart. Anantananda was saying that love is not that which is near and lives together. Love is that which remains close even when we are far away. And then his eyes stopped on a face in the crowd. Lalita’s eyes met Anantanand’s eyes. One moment, just one moment, and it seemed as if the whole world stopped. Suddenly Anantanand stopped the sermon midway. He got up and headed straight towards Lalita. The crowd kept giving way. Lalita asked in a low voice. Can you still hear my voice? Anantanand kept looking at him for a few moments. Then a single word came from his lips. Radhe, you have come. That moment was wonderful, sacred. But then the sky suddenly turned black. The wind stopped. A heaviness descended on the atmosphere. As if some inauspicious power was present there and then Kurangnath appeared there. There was love in his eyes. A firm resolve on his face. He did not want this union to happen because he knew that if Radha and Krishna met in this era, love would get a higher place than religion and the inertia of the society which he had maintained throughout his life would be broken. Kurangnath roared, this love of yours is against the rules of this era. Society will neither understand nor tolerate this. Anantanand said in a calm voice, love is not the union of society. Love is the union of two souls. A faint smile appeared on Kurangnath’s lips. Then get ready for the final exam. There was silence in the crowd. He said that on the next full moon night Lalita would blindfold herself. She will neither be able to see nor hear and will have to find Anantananda with the help of her heart only. If she fails, you two will be separated for ages. Whispers spread through the crowd. Anant Anand was standing silently. But Lalita did not think even for a moment. She looked directly into Kurangnath’s eyes and said, “I accept this condition.” There was neither fear nor doubt in her voice. For one who has known a soul for ages needs no eyes. This test wasn’t just a condition. It was the ultimate test of Lalita’s love and self-control. She picked up a blindfold and tied it over her eyes. “Now these eyes will see nothing until my soul leads me to them.” Some people laughed. “Girls these days only know how to act,” she said. “But others wept. They folded their hands and said, ‘O Radhe, in this age, you alone must make love triumph.'” Meanwhile, in a deserted cave, Anantananda sat in meditation. No food, no water. Only one word was on his lips: “Radhe Radhe.” His disciples were terrified. One said, “Gurudev, if this continues, you will not survive.” Anantananda smiled. “My soul resides only in Radhe.” Then he commanded, “If any girl asks about me, don’t tell her my face. I want to know. Is Radha still the only soul’s call in this age?” Can you find me? Meanwhile, Lalita, blindfolded, wandered from village to village. She asked every monk, “Are you Anantananda?” And each time, her heart gave her the same answer: “No, some monks even lied out of greed. Yes, I am Anantananda.” But Lalita’s heart remained undeceived. Their voices lacked the depth. The radiance that identifies with the soul. Then another monk appeared before her. His face held a remarkable radiance. His voice was so sweet that it could have beguiled anyone. He said, “I am Anantananda.” Lalita faltered for a moment. But the next moment, a voice rose from within her. “No,” she said calmly. “You have radiance. But you are not the soul I seek.” And in that instant, the monk’s disguise was removed. It was none other than Kurangnath. There was anger in his eyes, but even deeper was surprise. He said in a harsh voice, “You haven’t even broken up with this mindset. After all, what love are you talking about?” Lalita’s voice was calm. “My love is beyond the reach of this age.” A freedom from bondage impossible to describe in words. Kurangnath stared at her for a moment, then silently left. After a while, Lalita stopped at the entrance of a cave. She didn’t know how she arrived there. Her steps simply stopped there. She slowly walked inside. It was pitch dark inside. Silence all around. But even in that silence, there was something. A presence, a divine radiance felt not with the eyes but with the heart. Lalita stopped there. Her heart was beating so fast that she thought they could hear it. She took out her flute, gently placed it near someone’s feet, and said in a trembling voice, “I can’t see you, but my heart is beating very loud. Are you the one I’ve been searching for?” A deep silence descended on the cave, and then a tune arose. The same tune, the same flute, the same voice that was heard on the banks of the Yamuna, that came in dreams, that had been echoing in her heart for ages. Lalita’s eyes filled with tears even under the blindfold. Then, Anantanand He got up. He gently removed Lalita’s blindfold. Their eyes met, and only one word came from their lips: Radhe, he smiled. “This time too, you recognized me not with your eyes but with your soul.” Both of them wept. The weeping wasn’t of sorrow. It was the weeping of an age-old wait that flows as tears at the moment of union. The union had happened, but the story wasn’t over yet. Just then, another sage appeared. There was neither anger nor confusion on his face, just a deep seriousness. He said, “Radha and Krishna, your love will be considered complete only when society accepts it.” Silence fell over the cave. He said, “This union will be complete only when your love is proven true before the world.” Lalita immediately replied, “Love is free from the constraints of society. It needs no proof.” But Anantanand took her hand. “Radhe, the era has changed. This society has forgotten the definition of love, and our purpose is to remind those who forget.” Lalita fell silent. Anantanand asked the sage, “What do we have to do?” the sage said. Go to the royal court. Confess your love there in front of the king, the pundits, and the people. Prove that even a monk and a nun can walk the path of righteousness with love. The next day, the royal court was quiet. Everyone knew something extraordinary was about to happen. The king was seated on his throne, the pundits in their places, and the people at the entrance. Just then, Lalita and Anantanand entered. The king asked in a harsh voice, “Is it true that a monk has violated celibacy?” The court erupted in commotion. Anantanand stepped forward. “Your Majesty, I have not broken any rules. I have only confessed my love.” The court resounded. He said, “Love is not lust. Love is the union of souls. Ages ago, Radha and Krishna also loved each other. Society separated them. But did their separation end their love? No, it is still alive today. It is alive even after ages because love never dies.” Then, Lalita stepped forward. “I have loved him not just with my body. I have loved him with my heart and soul, and to prove my love, I have undergone a test that few can take. He told everyone. The test of Kuranganath, the blindfold, and the cave where she recognized Anantanand without seeing, just by his soul. The gathering was stunned. The king’s eyes filled with tears. After a long silence, the king said, “When I was young, my mother used to tell me the story of Radha and Krishna. I would ask why they didn’t marry? And my mother would fall silent.” The king’s voice trembled. “Today I understand that marriage is a rule of society, but love is the love of the soul.” The king stood up and declared, “I accept this love.” After that day, a new definition of love was written. The same definition that Radha lived ages ago, who never faded, who returned as Lalita, and after ages of waiting, the union of Radha and Krishna was complete. This time truly complete, this time in front of the whole world. Friends, if you enjoyed this story and the secret behind it, please like the video and comment with reverence. Be sure to write “Radhe-Radhe.” Subscribe to Anant Gatha and press the bell icon for more such amazing and mystical stories from Hindu mythology.