Krishna in the Foundry's Forge

I'll sing of Krishna, not the cosmic star, Narsimha's praise has traveled near and far, But Krishna's glory, as a foundry hand, In toil and sweat, where he takes his stand.

Within the forge, where the iron rods gleam, No time for mischief or a neighbor's dream, This Krishna works, his efforts strong, No Yashoda's care, no lullaby song.

Meals delayed, scarcely a moment to dine, No playful pranks in this life's design, Yet Krishna's sweat, in the foundry's heat, Carries a story, both bitter and sweet.

With every swing of the hammer's might, Krishna shapes metal, in the fiery light, The foundry's son, in the heat's embrace, Crafts a world of strength, in that sacred space.

And though his days are devoid of ease, His labor's rhythm a silent masterpiece, This foundry Krishna, in his humble role, Teaches lessons of the heart and soul.

~ Dr Intaj Malek