Dear Penguin,
This summer we spent a good, memorable time in Sambalpur. We visited Samlei Gudi and Gopaji Matha. The latter place brought back my memories of my childhood.
The memory of Sambalpur’s winter beginnings. Your Massi and I’d be bundled in woollens, our hair neatly oiled and combed, our tiny hands warming up in Maa’s palms. And we’d find ourselves at the gates of Gopalji Matha. Kartika month had arrived. And with it, Anla Navami.
That morning, Penguin wasn’t just about rituals or early risings. It was about Radha, the glimpse of her sacred feet. A moment so rare that the air felt still around it.
A Month of Meaning, Kartika
You’ve always been curious about the “why” behind traditions, not to blindly follow, but to gently understand. And Kartika, for Odias, is a month packed with ancient intentions.
There’s Habisha, Baluka Puja, Panchuka, Boita Bandana, and the celebration of Kartika Purnima. In scriptures like the Padma Purana, it is said that this month can lead us to all four life goals: Dharma (righteousness), Artha (purpose), Kama (desire), and Moksha (liberation). A month that, according to the tales, was once explained by Vishnu to Brahma and passed down through sages to kings.
We didn’t read the Kartika Mahatmya at home, but I remember Maa and Mama (my maternal grandmother) talking about it in passing, reverence resting in their voices like sandalwood smoke.
Much later in life, when I married into a new family, I learned about Habisha Dalma. The unique no-onion-no-garlic dish is reserved for the devout. Your paternal grandmother (my mother-in-law) would prepare it with such mindful precision, avoiding brinjals, pumpkins, sweet potatoes, even certain lentils. I saw how even food could become an act of faith.
Especially during the last five days of Kartika, known as Panchuka, when many Odias choose vegetarianism. Not from habit, but from choice.
Radha Pada Darshan
And then there’s Anla Navami, the day we got to see what remained hidden through the year, the sacred feet of Radha Rani.
At Sakhigopal Temple on the Puri Bhubaneshwar highway, devotees gather from far and wide for this moment. Radha, adorned in the Odiani Besha, is dressed in rich red and gold, jewelry glinting like stars tucked into cloth folds. It’s not just her beauty that’s divine, but what she represents purity, longing, and spiritual love.
Women come bearing conches, vermilion, bangles, and sacred threads praying for the well-being of their husbands. It echoes Radha and Krishna’s bond, not as a couple in the worldly sense, but as the ultimate symbol of soul union.
And in Sambalpur, or spot to get Radha Pada Darshan for us was Gopal ji Matha.
But this brings us to the question you often ask, Who was Radha?
Was Radha Real?
It’s not a question with a straight answer, and maybe that’s the point.
The Harivamsa, an extension of the Mahabharata, chronicles Krishna’s early life, but not once names Radha. The beloved tales of his pranks with the Gopis don’t single her out. It wasn’t until Jayadeva’s Gita Govinda, in the 12th century, that Radha appeared in full bloom. A character crafted with poetry, intensity, and divine emotion.
Was she made up? Perhaps.
But she also existed before Jayadeva, in passing mentions in the Panchatantra as Krishna’s wife, or in the Gatha Saptasati verses describing Krishna blowing dust off her face with breath soft as a breeze. These were not deep narratives, but gentle brushstrokes, suggesting that Radha already lived in the minds of poets.
She may not have been chronicled as Sita was, or Draupadi. But she grew, not in temples first, but in hearts. In songs. In art. Miniature painters from the 16th to 20th centuries immortalized her gaze, her love, her surrender.
Kapila Vatsyayan, a legendary art historian, says that it was art that gave Radha her permanence. Not scriptures.
And maybe that’s where Radha differs from other heroines of mythology. She is less a person, more a presence. Less about facts, more about feeling.
The Bhakti Within
In the Gita Govinda, Radha’s love is seen as the purest form of Bhakti, selfless devotion. So powerful that Krishna himself becomes mesmerized by it.
Some say Radha is Krishna’s atma, his soul. Others say she is the Para Brahman, the supreme reality, beyond words and thought.
Can someone who lives in art, music, dance, and dreams be called unreal?
Or does Radha exist exactly where she’s meant to, not in books or proofs, but in the intimate space between soul and surrender?
If You’re Still Wondering…
Some wonderful books explore Radha… Finding Radha: The Dance of Love, Being Radha, and Radha Tattwa. Maybe we’ll read one together someday. Not to confirm her existence, but to feel her essence.
Because sometimes, faith is not about asking, “Is it true?”
It’s about wondering, “Does it touch something true within me?”
With love,
Maa
