Every Janmashtami, I Dress My Son as Krishna. Here’s What I Hope He Learns.

Every Janmashtami, I Dress My Son as Krishna. Here’s What I Hope He Learns. 

A mother’s reflection on raising children who are good—but never naïve. 

Motherly Insights 

Every Janmashtami, I dress my son as Krishna. 

I have been doing it since he was one. 

A little yellow dhoti, a peacock feather, a flute, tiny ornaments—and a mother behind the camera trying to capture yet another fleeting moment of childhood. 

Except there is one Janmashtami for which I have no photograph. 

We were travelling to his Bua's house that year. I had gone through all the effort of renting his Krishna costume and adorning him with every little embellishment. He was ready—my little Kanha. 

I asked his father to take one photograph. 

Somehow, he didn't. 

And that was it. 

Sometimes I wish I could go back to that day for just five minutes and capture that one missing photograph. 

But I can't. 

Lost time is lost. 

Perhaps that is one of the quiet lessons of motherhood: we cannot hold on to every moment. We can only be present for the ones we are given. 

And perhaps that is why, for me, these photographs have come to mean more than simply recording how my son looked. 

They remind me of who he was, and who I was, at that moment in time. 

 

But why Krishna? 

For me, dressing my son as Krishna has never been only about the costume. 

It is about the values I hope he grows up with. 

We often teach our children to be good, kind, honest and compassionate. 

But as a mother, I also want to teach my child how to protect that goodness in a world that may not always be kind to it. 

That is where Krishna's many facets speak to me. 

Ranchod: know when to walk away. 

Krishna, as Ranchod, reminds us that not every battle needs to be fought. 

I want my child to know that courage isn't always about standing and fighting. 

Sometimes it is knowing when to leave. 

There will be conflicts, people and situations that are simply not worth the cost. 

Walking away is not always weakness. Sometimes, it is wisdom. 

Chaliya: be clever, but use it for what is right. 

Krishna's strategic and perceptive nature teaches another important lesson. 

I don't want my child to be dishonest or manipulative. 

But I also don't want him to confuse goodness with gullibility. 

I want him to observe, question, understand people and recognise when someone is trying to take advantage of his trust. 

Be kind. But be discerning. 

 

And above everything—truth. 

Life has taught me that innocence alone cannot always protect us. 

People may mistake kindness for weakness. 

They may take advantage of trust. 

That doesn't mean our children should become cynical. 

It means they should grow up with wisdom alongside goodness. 

I want my child to know who he is, to admit his mistakes, to question what feels wrong and to have the courage to live honestly—even when it isn't easy. 

Because perhaps the goal isn't to raise children who remain innocent forever. 

It is to raise children who remain good while becoming wise. 

 

What are we really wishing for? 

One day, the little yellow dhoti won't fit. 

The peacock feather will be packed away. 

The flute will become a childhood keepsake. 

Our children will grow into adults and face battles we cannot fight for them. 

And that is when these lessons will matter. 

So perhaps this Janmashtami, our wish as mothers can be a little bigger than “May my child always be good.” 

May they be good—and wise. 

Kind—but never helpless. 

Trusting—but never blind. 

Courageous—but wise enough to walk away. 

Intelligent—but guided by what is right. 

And above all, truthful. 

Because we cannot give our children a life without battles. 

What we can give them is the wisdom to know which battles are worth fighting. 

That, to me, is one of the most beautiful responsibilities of motherhood. 

And perhaps that is what I am really celebrating every Janmashtami—not just the little Krishna in front of my camera, but the person I hope he will one day become. 

Happy Janmashtami. 🦚 

— From one mother, to all mothers raising the next generation. 
 
At Motherly, we believe some of the most meaningful things we give our children aren't things at all. They are the values, stories, wisdom and love we leave with them as they grow.