Once upon a time, in the temple of Krishna in
Vrindaban, there was a night watchman who guarded the
temple from thieves for in the inner shrine was a
statue of Krishna with a large diamond imbedded in the
crown. All night to keep himself awake he would sing
devotional songs known as bhajans. One night the chief
priest, who was a renowned classical musician, was
walking by the temple and heard the strident, off-key
songs escaping from within. He grew angry and burst
into the temple.

“Stop that racket!” shouted the priest. “Your
harsh voice disturbs the serenity of the temple. Don’t
you know Lord Krishna is taking his rest at this time?
Get out of this temple an never return!”
The shocked watchman left at once, and after a few
minutes the priest’s anger subsided. He realized he
had been impetuous, for now there was no one but
himself to guard the temple. He decided to stay the
night and look for a new watchman the next morning.
Hardly an hour had passed when the priest heard heavy
footsteps coming from the inner shrine of the temple.
He checked both doors to the shrine, but they were
still locked. No one could have slipped past him. He
put his ear up to the door. The footsteps continued.
Fearing that some clever thief had somehow found
another way into the shrine, the priest unlocked the
door and rushed in. To his astonishment he found the
statue of Krishna pacing back and forth. O blessed
night, thought the priest. Because of all my good work
Lord Krishna has come to honor me in person. “My
Lord!” cried the priest, falling to his knees. “To
what do I owe this honor?”

“I cannot sleep,” replied Krishna angrily. “The
man who sings me lullabies all night is missing.”

The priest was stunned for a moment but then
recovered his wits and said, “I will sing for you, my
Lord. I am a most accomplished musician.” The priest
got his tambura from the next room, tuned it, and
began to sing in classical ragas the same bhajan he
had heard the watchman sing. He played perfectly, his
voice hitting each note with precision.

After listening for several minutes Krishna waved
his hand and said, “I have heard classical ragas for
centuries and could sing them myself much better than
you. No, I must have the singing of that watchman. For
fifteen years I have listened to it and now it is the
only thing that soothes me.”

“But my Lord,” said the priest, “He is tone-deaf
and has a nasal voice. Allow me to play my tambura
while you relax to its musical drone.” “Don’t bore
me!” said Krishna. “Get the watchman at once.”

The frightened priest could not argue further and
rushed to the house of the watchman. He heard sobbing
coming from within, and knocked on the door. After
several moments the watchman answered, tears rolling
down his face. “What are you crying for?” asked the
priest.

“I have been separated from my beloved temple,” said
the watchman. “My life is only worth living in
devotion to my Lord.”

“Then you are in luck,” said the priest bitterly.
“Lord Krishna has come to life in the shrine and he is
asking for you to come sing to him”

Now it was tears of joy that flowed from the eyes of
the watchman. He followed the priest at once. When
they reached the temple Krishna was still inside
pacing. “I could not sleep after you left,” said
Krishna. “Please, start your bhajans, and lock the
door as you have done every night.” The priest locked
the door. The watchman had fallen to his knees and was
gazing at Krishna in wonderment. The priest had to
shake him, and then the watchman began to sing, tears
still rolling down his cheeks. It was as harsh as
ever, and even more faltering, and the priest winced,
expecting Krishna to strike them both for insulting
him with such noise. But he looked at Krishna, and the
god had a look of deep contentment on his face. Then
the priest heard a sound in the watchman’s voice that
had been there all along, but that he had never
noticed. It was as if he had been watching the
reflection on the surface of the lake, and then
suddenly by shifting his eye he saw for the first time
the pure depths beneath.

The priest had performed concerts all over India,
and had listened to many more, but never in his life
had he heard this sound. It rose in his body like a
crystal bell, and he understood that everything he had
heard before then was just notes, just sound, and that
what he was hearing now was pure love. For the first
time in his life he experienced bliss. The night
passed slowly. As the watchman sang the statue of
Krishna returned to its pedestal and resumed its usual
position. When the eastern sky began to turn red the
watchman stopped singing and prostrated himself on the
ground before the statue, tears of joy still falling.

For a long time the priest waited for the
watchman to rise. Finally, when he began to worry that
the morning worshippers would start to arrive, he
walked over to the watchman and said, “You can get up
now. Your duty is done. Go home and sleep.” But the
watchman did not respond. The priest gently shook him,
and the watchman’s body rolled over. His soul had
risen to be with his Lord, and though he was dead his
face glowed with bliss, his body shone like the
morning sun, and the temple shrine was filled with
light


Here's another version of the story:


An orthodox swami, going through a village,
paused in front of a poor mud house. Somebody was
laughing, somebody was singing. Intrigued; the swami
went nearer and held out his bowl. He saw a woman
feeding here children. There were five of them sitting
on the ground -four beautiful children, and a fifth.
To his great surprise, the fifth was the
Child-Krishna, a statuette made of wood and plaster
such as are sold in the markets. The mother was making
a little ball of rice and putting in into one mouth
after another. The Child-Krishna was receiving his
share and this was why they were all laughing.

“What are you doing?" cried the swami. " How do
you dare to play with the Lord Krishna and offer him
that unclean food which goes from mouth to mouth? What
sacrilege! " Frightened; the woman prostrated herself
at the monk's feet. " My lord swami, " she said; " I
had no idea I was doing wrong. My children are so
happy to play with Shri Krishna. He is their
companion. If I have offended the Supreme, how can I
be pardoned? Please help me!"

"Give me that statuette, " said the monk severely,
"and I will take it to the village temple where the
Lord Krishna will be bathed and worshiped rightly and
treated with respect instead of being used as a
plaything. You will visit him when bringing your
offerings to the priests!"

The children were upset. They were losing their
friend. The mother wept for shame. She wrapped the
statuette and gave it to the swami. He carried it to
the temple and told the priests what he had seen. They
were outraged. But the same night the swami could not
go to sleep. Suddenly the Lord Krishna appeared to him
in all his glory. "What have you done?" he said to the
monk " I was so happy at that woman's house! I loved
her devotion and her laughter, and now you have shut
me up in a dark temple. Listen, I will not eat
anything nor accept any offerings until you take me
back to her. Her rice was cooked just right and that
is the rice I want - no other!

As Retold by Harish Johari