In most mythological representations of Krishna, we always see him with a flute—either holding it in his hand or playing it. This flute is one of the most evocative metaphors of love and surrender to the Divine.
Every morning, Krishna would walk through his garden, whispering words of love to the plants. The plants, in return, radiated devotion toward Him. One day, needing a new flute, Krishna approached the bamboo plant.
The bamboo plant, sensitive to Krishna’s presence, felt his intent. Krishna gently said, “I need you to become my flute. But for that, I will have to cut you and drill holes in you. It will be painful.”
The bamboo reflected and then offered itself willingly: “It will be my privilege, O Krishna, to be your flute. Please, go ahead.”
Krishna then carefully cut and shaped the bamboo—scraping, smoothing, and crafting it into a fine flute. Though painful, the process was filled with divine grace. As Krishna began to play it, the pain transformed into ananda — pure bliss.
The very first note that emerged was filled with the essence of love and surrender. It echoed across the cosmos, touching every heart. From that moment, the flute never left Krishna’s side.
Whenever moved by emotion, He would play the flute, and its notes would immerse listeners in rapture and devotion.
The Gopis, seeing how close the flute was to Krishna, grew envious. “What is your secret?” they asked. “Why are you always with Him?”
The flute replied, “I’m empty inside. I have no tune of my own. I simply allow Krishna’s breath to flow through me. I ask for nothing. I am content being in His hands, for Him to keep or discard.”
The notes just pass through me, to fill the world with His song.
The notes are not mine, nor mine the melody.
