The brief was the kadamba grove distilled to its essence: Krishna under his beloved tree, the round-canopied kadamba whose yellow puff-flowers the Braj poets never tire of, with the flute he played to call the herd. We let the tree fill the upper two-thirds as the real hero, a tree-of-life canopy alive with parrots and peacocks, and set the flute-Krishna and two garlanded cows calmly beneath it rather than crowding the ground. The yellow blossoms are kept as flat dotted puffs, faux-gold as flat colour, in the folk discipline. A lotus pond with ducks closes the sheet. It is the gentlest of the secular pichwai themes — the grove, the tree, the flute — beloved far beyond the temple.