Krishna And Wicked King Poem by Rajendra Prasad Meena Jaipur India

In Mathura town, long long ago,
A wicked king ruled high and low.
His name was Kansa, harsh and cruel,
Fear and anger were his rule.

A voice from sky one silent night said,
"Devaki's son will strike your dread."
Kansa trembled, filled with fear,
He locked Devaki, kept her near.

But then a child so sweet was born,
On a rainy, stormy morn.
Tiny Krishna, bright and mild,
Smiling like a moonlit child.

The prison doors opened wide,
Chains fell off on every side.
Vasudev walked through the rain,
Yamuna made a gentle lane.

To Gokul's home the child was sent,
Where joy and love were heaven-sent.
Little Krishna laughed and played,
While evil plans began to fade.

In time he grew both wise and strong,
And ended Kansa's wicked wrong.
So kids, remember, loud and clear:
Good wins always—never fear!

By Rajendra Prasad Meena Jaipur India