Celestial Shenanigans: Why Krishna Absolutely Had to Talk About Chandrayaan-3

You wouldn’t believe the cosmic commotion that erupted in the divine council chambers when the news broke. There I was, minding my own business, savoring the thrill of some well-aged ambrosia, when Narada, the celestial gossip-monger himself, came waltzing in with the urgency of a runaway cow in a bullock cart. "Krishna!" he bellowed, looking like he’d just stumbled across the universe’s juiciest tidbit, "Have you heard what the humans have done now?"

Now, when Narada shows up uninvited, it’s never about anything mild. I knew this was bound to be a rollercoaster. “Ah, Narada,” I replied with a smile that I’d practiced in front of various mirrors over the ages. “What have our earthly friends done this time? Another advanced firework display in the middle of nowhere? Or perhaps a brand-new festival involving copious amounts of sweets and questionable dance moves?”

He shook his head, his robes aflutter. “They’ve sent a rocket to the moon again! The Chandrayaan-3 mission. This time, they actually landed.”

“Oh?” My eyebrow quirked up. That was something. “They managed it this time?”

“Not only that, but they’ve set up a rover, and it’s roaming around the south pole of the moon as we speak!”

Ah, the south pole! Now, if you don’t know, that’s prime lunar territory, untouched and pristine. More exclusive than any palace made by Vishwakarma, the divine architect, I assure you. I could already imagine the other deities pulling their celestial strings, anxious to lay their claim to that unblemished stretch of moon dust.

But Narada, naturally, wasn’t finished. “The other gods aren’t pleased, Krishna. They’re saying the mortals have gone too far this time. They want an explanation, and they want you to deliver it.”

I nearly choked on my ambrosia. Me, Krishna, explaining lunar exploration? It wasn’t exactly what I’d signed up for. But the gods had a point: humans venturing into the cosmos often sparked more tension in the celestial boardroom than when Arjuna and I first teamed up. And besides, who better than yours truly to deliver a message that could balance divine decorum with human enthusiasm?

So, reluctantly, I got up and straightened my peacock-feathered crown, a bit miffed that I had to abandon my plans for a divine game of charades. “Fine, Narada. Let’s have a word with these gods before they go attempting any heavenly embargoes on moon exploration.”

When I arrived at the council, there was already quite the ruckus. Lord Indra was thundering on about how the moon was “his sacred nightlight” and how he didn’t need mortals mucking it up with “strange machines.” Brahma was deep in debate, arguing whether landing on the moon constituted an act of earthly hubris or divine homage. Even Lord Shiva, usually unfazed by mortal affairs, was muttering about “cosmic balance” and “disruption of the heavenly energy.”

“All right, all right!” I called out, “Can we all stop worrying about our divine zones of influence for just a moment?”

A hush fell over the gathering. My charm, of course, was irresistible—whether to gods or mortals. I cleared my throat, deciding to make a light-hearted case for humanity’s most recent escapade. “Now, look here. The humans are just curious little things. Ever since they discovered the joys of walking on two legs, they’ve been tripping over themselves to find out what’s beyond the next hill, ocean, or, in this case, moon crater.”

“But the moon is sacred!” objected Indra, a bit dramatically if you ask me. “Do they not understand its ethereal value?”

“Indra,” I said, suppressing a grin, “the mortals have been singing to the moon, writing poetry for the moon, naming everything from babies to desserts after it. I think they get its value.”

“Still, they need guidance,” Vishnu intoned, casting me a look that could’ve frozen a summer day. “Guidance that I suppose you, Krishna, are going to provide?”

Ah, yes, it was official. I had been appointed the divine envoy to mediate this “moon landing” situation. “Very well,” I agreed, shrugging. “I shall explain it to the humans… in a way they’ll understand.”

And with that, I set about planning. You see, the real reason I was so intrigued by this Chandrayaan-3 was that I had taken quite a liking to the way humanity was evolving. Sure, their political debates were endless, and their obsession with celebrity gossip was baffling. But this mission wasn’t just any voyage. Landing near the south pole of the moon? That was something the gods hadn’t even considered! They were venturing into a place of mystery and daring, where the sun barely graces the surface, where the darkness is perpetual. And, to be honest, the gods didn’t have a monopoly on curiosity.

So, I decided to take a little stroll across the cosmos myself. Popped over to the south pole, examined the humans’ rover—a quaint little device, moving slowly but with purpose, like a cow just figuring out how to trot. I felt a bit of pride. Humanity had managed to send this little metal creature across a quarter of a million miles, through space no less, to wander on the moon’s dusty soil.

“Krishna,” Lakshmi interrupted me on my cosmic inspection, “are you admiring that little rover?”

“Not admiring, exactly,” I replied. “Just… appreciating the endeavor.”

The idea began to crystallize in my mind. What if, instead of rallying the gods to hoard the moon’s untouched territories like some sort of cosmic HOA, I made a case for humanity’s audacious curiosity? What if I could… educate them on this mission, on why reaching beyond their world was a part of their nature—and, frankly, something we gods could learn a thing or two from?

I returned to Earth with a vision: I would tell the story of this mission, but not with the high and mighty airs of a god lecturing mortals. No, this had to be… well, fun. Mortals had a knack for turning serious undertakings into entertainment, after all. I was going to do the same. If I had to explain Chandrayaan-3 to the humans, I’d do it in a way that captured their joy, their struggle, and their sheer tenacity. And what better medium than a video, where I could reach both the devoted and the distracted, the curious and the couch-bound?

So, I rallied my divine energies, crafted a message that would celebrate Chandrayaan-3’s journey, its bumpy history, and that one little rover’s brave trek across the lunar south pole. I would tell the story of a mission born of humanity’s indomitable spirit, and maybe even weave in a few chuckles to keep their attention.

And that, dear friends, is why I finally decided to go public with this whole celestial saga. There’s a video waiting for you, one that I guarantee will entertain, enlighten, and—if I’ve done my job right—ignite a little curiosity in that cosmic consciousness of yours. I could’ve written a lengthy script, sure, but a video? Much better. You mortals do love your moving pictures.

So go on, watch it. You’ll find out why the gods are amused, why I’ve taken such an interest, and why—between you and me—the next time you gaze up at the moon, you might just spot a glint of pride in its eye.