Krishna and Rukmini - The Test of Love

Krishna was in one of his playful moods—the kind Rukmini had learned to recognize and navigate over their years together.

Krishna: "I've been thinking, Perhaps I should arrange your marriage."

Rukmini: "To whom?"

Rukmini didn't look up from her embroidery.

Krishna: "To Sishupala. He's still bitter about losing you. It might heal old wounds."

Rukmini: "The Sishupala whose head you removed at Yudhishthira's ceremony?"

Krishna: "A different Sishupala. His nephew. Very handsome."

Rukmini: "I'm sure he is."

Krishna: "You're not upset?"

Rukmini continued stitching.

Rukmini: "Should I be?"

Krishna: "Most wives would be furious at their husband suggesting they marry another man."

Rukmini: "Most wives don't have husbands who are testing them. What response are you hoping for?"

Krishna set down the flowers.

Krishna: "I'm not sure. Jealousy, perhaps. Protestation. Tears."

Rukmini: "And that would please you? Seeing me distressed?"

Krishna: "It would... reassure me."

Rukmini: "Of what?"

Krishna: "That you still care. That after all these years, the thought of losing me still moves you."

Rukmini set aside her embroidery. When she spoke, her voice was calm but her words were precise.

Rukmini: "Let me tell you what would happen if you arranged my marriage to another man. I would refuse. I would refuse publicly, loudly, and without concern for your embarrassment. Because I chose you—not because you chose me. My love is not a response to your attention. It existed before you knew my name, and it would exist after you forgot it."

Krishna: "I could never forget—"

Rukmini: "Let me finish. You want me to be jealous because jealousy would prove I need you. But I don't need you, Krishna. I want you. Need is weakness. Want is choice. Every day I choose you—not because I must, but because I do."

Krishna: "And if I stopped being worthy of that choice?"

Rukmini: "Then I would still love you. Love is not contingent on worthiness. If it were, it wouldn't be love. It would be commerce."

Krishna: "You'd love me if I failed you? If I betrayed you?"

Rukmini: "I'd be hurt. I'd grieve. But I wouldn't stop loving. You cannot make someone stop loving through actions. Love is a decision, not a reaction."

Krishna sat beside her.

Krishna: "You're not what I expected when I rescued you from Sishupala's wedding."

Rukmini: "What did you expect?"

Krishna: "Gratitude. Devotion. Perhaps a little worship."

Rukmini: "And instead?"

Krishna: "Instead, I got a partner. Someone who sees through my games. Someone who loves me enough to be honest about my foolishness."

Rukmini: "Is that disappointing?"

Krishna: "It's terrifying. Partnership means I can't hide. Worship lets you conceal your flaws in the devotee's blindness. Partnership exposes everything."

Rukmini: "And you want to be exposed?"

Krishna: "No. But I need to be. That's why I keep coming back to you. Satyabhama gives me passion. The other queens give me alliance, duty, various necessities. You give me truth."

Rukmini: "And you think I need tests? Little games to prove my devotion?"

Krishna: "I think I need them. To remind myself why I'm still scared of you after all these years."

Rukmini laughed—genuine, warm.

Rukmini: "The Lord of the Universe, scared of a queen who does embroidery."

Krishna: "The most powerful beings fear what they love most. That's how you know the love is real."

Rukmini: "Then you admit you love me?"

Krishna: "I admitted it the day I drove my chariot through your failed wedding. I've been admitting it every day since."

Rukmini picked up her embroidery again.

Rukmini: "No more tests."

Krishna: "No more tests,"

Rukmini: "And no more pretending you're going to give me away. My patience has limits."

Krishna: "Noted."

They sat together in comfortable silence—the silence of two people who had tested each other enough to know they didn't need tests anymore.