Madhavendra was a holy man
Definitely not a regular layman
He carried the title of brahmin
Perhaps he can be called a shaman
For when he reached a sacred hill
He felt a very tingling thrill
A trance had overtaken him
A genuine shaking in every limb
After a bath by the lake
He went to take a break
Beneath a tree he went to rest
Somewhere near a high bird’s nest
A young boy suddenly turned up
And woke the monk somewhat
He brought him something hot
It was milk in a rustic clay pot
“I brought you something you need
Something to drink, not to feed
Did I catch you during meditation
Surely no form of intoxication?”
Impressed with what the boy did give
He asked his name, where does he live?
The boy said he helps dad with cows
But that he had to go right now
Madhavendra relished this organic milk so
And wondered if the boy would again show
He caught up on sleep and dreamt
Of the boy who seemed heaven-sent
The boy took him to a bush in the jungle
To get there was a major struggle
“I am buried here, but I’m alive
It’s a wonder that I still survive
Please get me out of this despair
And place me on the hill over there
My name is simple, it’s Gopal
Some say ‘Krishna’ when they call”
Madhavendra believed in the dream
Went to the village to build up a team
They chopped through bush, dug the ground
It was very interesting what they found
It was an exact replica of the boy
Naturally it gave them so much joy
From here they placed him on the hill
Cleansed him as he remained still
People from all around came to see
How lifelike a statue could be
A festival was held with the very best food
It overall changed the town’s attitude
It’s hard to comprehend the bigger plan
Madhavendra had become a busy man
On a restful night came a new dream
Gopal spoke about a challenge and scheme
“I become hot and full of sweat
You know what it’s like getting all wet
I can get relief with pulp of sandalwood
Smeared on me will be cool and good”
Madhavendra had the ambition to go
Far south where such trees do grow
And on the way he came to a town
The name, Remuna, which had renown
It’s famous for a unique condensed milk
Kheer for a deity, it’s sweet, smooth like silk
Madhavendra thought to have a taste
And duplicate the prep for the one he’s embraced
He was shy to ask for a sample indeed
Not wanting to come across with greed
It was the deity who perceived the monk’s wish
And stole for him a pot of the cream dish
Popularity followed him everywhere
Privacy was something he could not share
Fame spread like absolute wildfire
Self-attention was not his desire
After much travel he secured sandalwood
From Puri he carried the load as best he could
This burden of love was keeping him alive
On the return, to Remuna he did arrive
When once again in dream state Gopal spoke
“Please smear sandalwood on the local bloke
That deity and I are one, cut from the same cloth
The only difference is his name – Gopinath
Madhavendra was actually very poor
But rich in seeing a world of grandeur
His view of God – a little boy with charm
Wanting a home, something cool, some cream – no harm
– By Bhaktimarga Swami
The above poem, "The Holy Man and a Pot of Cream," can have an alternate name – "The Story of Kheerchora Gopinatha."
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