This year’s Krishnashtami felt very different.
Last year was my first Krishnashtami after marriage everything was new. A new home, a new family, a new rhythm, and the beautiful feeling of beginning to belong somewhere that was once unfamiliar. I was still figuring out where things belonged, how our festivals were celebrated, what we should do, and, honestly, what our traditions would eventually look like.
This year, somehow, that “new” feeling had quietly transformed. Three generations under one roof. And that made this Krishnashtami feel even more special.
We come from the Parashurama Kshetra, with our roots in Udupi, and for us, especially as Shivalli Brahmins, Krishnashtami is not simply another festival. It holds a very special place in our homes and traditions. Udupi itself is deeply connected with Sri Krishna and the beautiful tradition of worship at Sri Krishna Matha. Krishnashtami brings together devotion, food, rituals, family and that wonderful childlike joy associated with Krishna – the little Balakrishna who is mischievous, playful and yet deeply divine.
I have always loved celebrating could be anything festivals birthdays weddings & always loved children and genuinely enjoy being around them.
There is something about their innocence, their excitement, their little mischief and the sheer joy with which they experience everything that has always made me happy. So celebrating Krishna in his most playful, childlike form has always felt especially close to my heart.
Amma and I love hosting – people coming home, moving around, preparing things, decorating, cooking, dressing up and, most of all, that feeling of a house becoming alive. But this year, I also wanted to do something a little differently. I wanted our Krishnashtami to have a little theme of its own.
Over time, I had collected around five or six little Krishna cradles each one carrying its own story. One beautiful Channapatna cradle was gifted by Jhanavi Ranga, my boss’s mother, and a few others came from professors and close friends, as such thoughtful gestures and gifts. Slowly, without really planning it, I had this little collection of Krishna cradles sitting with me.
And then I thought — why not make them part of our Krishnashtami?
Last year, I had absolutely no idea what I would put where or how I wanted to celebrate. This year, I knew I wanted to create an Ambegaalu Krishna theme that adorable little crawling Krishna, full of innocence and mischief.
We decided to have a tiny Benne Krishna painted on a beautiful silk cloth. I repurposed one of my mom’s (mom in law for the people whose wondering haha) beautiful sarees for it, which made the backdrop even more special.
Once everything came together, the backdrop was finally ready. I was so excited to see it — and thankfully, it turned out even better than I had imagined.
For me, it was also special because mom never really says no to the things I ask for. She has this lovely way of letting me use things, experiment and make them part of what I am imagining. I think that is one of the sweetest privileges of becoming part of a family when something that belongs to someone becomes a little part of something you create together.
My husband and I thought it would make a beautiful backdrop, and somehow it did. Simple, traditional, personal and completely ours.
Then came the previous day’s preparations.
Dodda and Amma got started with the chakkuli hittu, followed by the many kinds of unde. Dodda made plenty of Shunti Unde, traditionally consumed first after the upavasa. Then came my absolute favourite, Rave Unde.
Rave Unde takes me straight back to my grandmother and great-grandmother, who would make them so lovingly for me. There is something beautiful about food carrying memories across generations — what they once made for me is now lovingly made by Mum and Dodda.
Then came the Ellu Unde, made with black sesame. One of the sweetest parts was seeing Dodda happy simply because I was there, talking to her and working alongside her. It wasn’t just about making food; it was about being together.
And then came the hardest — or perhaps trickiest — part: the chakkuli.
Amma single-handedly pressed every chakkuli to perfection, while my husband and Appa took over the frying. I was somewhere in between, helping wherever I could and setting up bits of the décor whenever I got a moment.
It wasn’t a perfectly coordinated production. It was simply all of us doing our little parts.
By the end of all the preparations, I was exhausted but mentally, I was very happy.
There was also this constant awareness that the next day had so much more to do. I wanted to slow down and consciously remember the pooja krama, the little rituals and the order in which everything was to be done. I didn’t want to simply go through the motions; I wanted to understand and absorb it all.
We prepared everything again in small portions for Krishna, and for Tulasi as well. Appa and my husband did everything they could to help, while Amma was constantly juggling between the kitchen, the preparations and everything happening outside.
My husband and Amma also made Hesarbele Unde, and then came Antina Unde another absolute favourite of mine.
We had made Antina Unde once before, when we had made it to give to someone, but this time it somehow felt different. It was honestly the unde of the year. There is something magical about food that turns out unexpectedly perfect — and this one certainly did.
Then came the final touches. We gathered all the little cradles, the beautiful peacock feathers, the matka and all the tiny details that had slowly been collected and thought about.
Even Krishna’s eyes had a little story.
Amma had asked me to get a bindi and keep it ready for Krishna’s eyes. But somehow, I ended up taking Krishna along with me to get it done. It was such a funny little thing — Amma had specifically told me to bring just the bindi, and instead, I carried the whole Krishna idol with me. I don’t know what I was thinking, but somehow it felt easier to take him along and get it done properly.
Last year, I had got a Govardhana Giri bombe, and this year, while browsing around at Ramsons, Mysore, I found these unbelievably cute little fruit Krishnas – an apple, a strawberry and an orange! Too cute for life. And of course, the little peacock feathers placed beside them – such tiny details, but somehow they made the whole Krishna setup feel even more playful and adorable.
And then there was the beautiful cradle made by my mom’s friend who is incredibly creative. The moment that cradle came into the house, it almost felt as though the house had suddenly filled with Krishnas. The grandeur went up another level is what my mom and her friends discussed.
Everything finally came together elegant, traditional and not overly done. Just the way Amma loves it.
And then came the moment I love the most.
Amma looked around and said, “Eshtu chennagide alva?” That million-dollar smile on her face was enough.
I think that is probably the moment when my husband and I feel, okay, we’ve done something right. Her happiness is honestly all we need.
We started around 9:30 pm , we proceeded with krishnashtami Pooja and the Arghya Pradhana key part of the entire krishnashtami.
Appa sang six or seven beautiful songs, and my cousin Sharanya sang beautifully too, adding such a lovely spiritual touch to the festivities. Family came in and there was this beautiful flow of people, prayers and conversations through the house.
We did the Tulasi pooje as well, and finally came the much-awaited phalahaara.
By then, all of us were absolutely famished.
And we ate. Properly. Happily. Everything we could..
Amma had curated a beautiful, very traditional Krishnashtami menu, filled with all my favourites:
- Moode Idli — the beautiful South Canara special
- Menskayi
- Kaayi Saasive Avalakki
- All the little bites — chakli, kodbale and the different undes
- Mosaravalakki
And then, of course, I couldn’t stop thinking about Udupi.
In Udupi, there is the beautiful tradition of preparing 108 varieties of unde for Krishna. Every time I hear that, I wonder — where does God give people the strength, patience and creativity to make 108 different kinds of something? But perhaps that is exactly what makes these traditions so beautiful. They are not merely rituals; they are generations of love, skill, devotion and collective memory packed into something as simple as food.
That is what I find so beautiful about our traditions. There is so much meaning hidden in things that can sometimes look ordinary from the outside.
We also managed to take a few photographs.
Amma told me that she looked very tired.
And I probably did too..
But I didn’t really mind.
Because photographs like these aren’t really about how perfect we looked that day. They are a little record of where we were, who we were surrounded by, what we were doing and how our home looked at that particular point in our lives.
Five years from now, these photographs will probably mean something completely different to us.
They will remind us of this exact house, these exact people, these exact traditions, the little Krishna cradles, Amma’s saree, the food, the tired faces, the laughter and all the running around.
And perhaps that is the real beauty of celebrating something so old.
We get to leave a little piece of our own life inside a tradition that has existed long before us — so that years later, when we look back, we don’t just remember Krishnashtami.
Krishnashtami 2026 – a little piece of Krishna, a little piece of our families, and a beautiful little piece of us. Our home, our old traditions, and a few new memories we are slowly making our own. May this little Krishna always keep this home filled with love, laughter, togetherness and that beautiful childlike joy – year after year.
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