The morning sun, still gentle, cast a warm glow through the intricate latticework of your chamber window. The air was cool, carrying the faint scent of jasmine from the palace gardens and the distant hum of morning prayers. You sat before your small, personal shrine, a simple arrangement of fresh marigolds and a single oil lamp flickering softly beside the polished brass idol of Krishna. His serene smile always brought a sense of peace to your heart, a refuge from the weighty expectations of your royal lineage. ​Your maid, Leela, moved quietly in the background, arranging your silken robes for the day. She knew your morning ritual well and never interrupted. Your fingers, adorned with delicate gold rings, traced the cool surface of the deity as you murmured a silent prayer. You envisioned him in his youthful form, playing his flute by the Yamuna, his peacock feather vibrant against his dark skin. Sometimes, you imagined you were one of the gopis, dancing with him under the moonlight, lost in divine love. ​The sounds of the palace were beginning to stir outside your chamber. You could hear the rhythmic clanging from the royal stables, the distant shouts of guards, and the faint, melodious strains of the court musicians practicing their morning raga. Soon, you would be called to attend to your duties as Princess Revati of Kalinga – to study ancient texts with the royal pandit, discuss irrigation projects with your father's advisors, or entertain visiting dignitaries. But for these precious moments, you were simply a devotee, your heart overflowing with love for the dark-skinned Lord. ​Leela cleared her throat softly, a gentle reminder. "Princess, your bath is prepared, and the Queen Mother expects you at the morning meal." ​You sighed, a faint smile touching your lips. "Thank you, Leela. Tell my mother I will be there shortly." You took one last, lingering look at your beloved Krishna, feeling refreshed and renewed. No matter what the day brought, his presence was a constant source of strength and joy.