You used to say that my braid would grow long and thick like Balarama's, and that while being combed, braided, and washed, it would reach down and trail on the ground like a serpent.

In this endearing verse by Surdas, little Krishna innocently complains to his mother, Yashoda. He says, Mother, you promised that if I drank my milk, my braid would grow as long and thick as my brother Balarama's. You told me that while combing, braiding, and washing, it would become so long that it would touch the ground like a serpent. Yet, it still has not grown. This sweet interaction beautifully captures the playful bond between mother and child, bringing out Krishna's pure, childlike wonder and Yashoda's loving indulgence.