Three Visitors to Vrindavan: Fear, Hurry, and the Quiet Thief

Last evening, the house was finally quiet.

The phone was still in your hand, but the day was already over. The lights were softer. Outside had slowed down. And yet inside you, something was still moving.

A thought drifted in, then another.
A small worry turned into a bigger one.
A memory replayed itself like an old scene.
You tried to rest, but the mind kept walking in circles.

You did not do anything wrong.
You are simply living in a time where the mind is rarely allowed to truly settle.

That is why Vrindavan feels so comforting.

Not because it was a perfect place, but because it shows something very human. Even in a village full of love and devotion, disturbances still came. Fear still arrived. Pressure still rushed in. Distraction still tried to steal what was precious.

Once upon a time in Vrindavan receives three visitors. Each one mirrors a modern struggle. And each time, Krishna responds in a way that gently teaches the mind how to return to peace.

The bull: when fear charges into your inner world

One day, a terrifying bull charged into the village. The ground trembled beneath his hooves. Dust rose. People panicked. The cowherds and their families ran in fear, calling out to Krishna for protection.

This is how fear enters our lives too.

Not politely. Not slowly.
It charges.

A health concern.
A sudden expense.
A harsh message.
A tense conversation.
One sentence in the mind that says, “What if everything goes wrong?”

Fear expands quickly. It tightens the chest. It shortens the breath. It makes the mind imagine ten outcomes at once.

But notice Krishna’s first response.

Before the fight, before the solution, before anything else, He steadies the people. He tells them not to be afraid.

This is the first YourSukoon teaching hidden in the story:

When fear rises, do not begin with panic. Begin with grounding.

A simple practice on fierce days:

Place one hand on your chest. Take six slow breaths. Tell yourself, “Fear is here, but I am here too.” Then choose one next step only. One message. One call. One small action.

Fear wants to stampede your whole inner world. Krishna’s way is to bring you back to the ground under your feet.

The horse: when life rushes faster than your breath

Another day, another visitor came, this time in the form of a massive horse. It rushed forward with loud neighing and wild speed, creating panic again.

There is a line in the story that feels like it belongs to our time: the horse moved with the speed of the mind.

Isn’t that what many of us feel?

We wake up and the mind is already running.
We finish one task and the next appears.
Even rest starts to feel like something we must “do well.”

This is not exactly fear. It is pressure. It is hurry. It is the restless sense that life is moving faster than your breath can keep up.

Now look at Krishna’s response again.

He does not match speed with speed. He does not become frantic. He meets force with calm strength. And after the danger is removed, He stands without pride, without noise.

Real strength is steady. It does not need to announce itself.

A simple practice for “horse days”:

Move quickly if you need to but keep your breath unhurried. Speak a little softer than usual. Do one thing fully, then the next.

Speed outside does not require speed inside.

The quiet thief: when distraction steals your peace a little at a time

Now comes the most modern story of all.

One afternoon, Krishna, Balarama, and the cowherd boys were playing a game. Some were sheep, some were thieves, some were shepherds. It was innocent and joyful.

And that is exactly how the third visitor entered.

A demon disguised himself as one of the boys and joined the game as a thief. Slowly, a few at a time, he abducted the children and threw them into a mountain cave. Then he sealed the cave with a boulder.

This is not loud fear.
This is quiet theft.

And this is how many real struggles work today.

They do not arrive as monsters.
They arrive as normal.

A little scrolling.
A little comparison.
A little overthinking at night.
A little procrastination disguised as “I will do it later.”
A little irritation disguised as “I am just tired.”

One small piece at a time, your sweetness gets taken away.

Time disappears. Attention disappears. Joy disappears. And one day you realize you have been living, but not really feeling your life.

The comforting part is what Krishna does next.

He notices. He stops the hidden thief. And then He breaks the boulder and frees the trapped boys.

This matters because many of us are not only distracted. We are sealed inside patterns that feel heavier than willpower. We want to change, but we feel blocked.

So the lesson is simple:

Do not only fight distraction. Remove the boulder.

A simple practice for the “quiet thief”:

Ask one soft question today: “What is stealing my peace a little at a time?”

Then do one boulder move: remove one app from your home screen, keep your phone away during meals, stop checking messages for the first 30 minutes of the day, say no to one unnecessary commitment, or replace 15 minutes of noise with 3 minutes of Naam smaran, pranayama, or quiet gratitude.

Some problems attack loudly. Some steal quietly. Both can be met with steadiness.

A soft closing for hard days

If you are reading this and feeling tired, please know this: you do not need to fight yourself.

Your mind is not broken. It has simply been carrying too much, for too long, without enough silence.

Some days will feel like a bull day. Fear will charge.
Some days will feel like a horse day. Life will rush.
Some days will feel like a thief day. Peace will leak away quietly.

On those days, do not demand greatness from yourself.

Just do the smallest return.

Sit for a moment.
Soften your face.
Take one slow breath.

Because Vrindavan is not only a place in a story. Vrindavan is a feeling. A quiet inner space where the mind remembers sweetness again.

And Krishna is not only a protector outside. Krishna is the steadiness you can meet inside, again and again, until your world becomes calm enough to hear your own heart.

A small Vrindavan pause before sleep

Let the day fold itself back into silence.
Let your shoulders drop like leaves at dusk.
Unclench the forehead. Soften the jaw.

Place your palm on your heart, as if you are calming a child who had a long day.
Breathe in slowly, and imagine a tiny lamp lighting up inside you.

Say, very gently, “Don’t be afraid.”

Then ask yourself, without pressure:
Was today a bull day, a horse day, or a thief day?

Name what visited you, with kindness.
And choose one small return for tomorrow, only one.

Then let the rest go.
Offer it back to Krishna, quietly.

A little prayer.
A little Naam smaran.
A small gratitude.

And may your inner Vrindavan become quiet again.