Bheem tried to punch him, but his fists passed right through the wind-demon. Ghurnasur laughed and trapped Bheem in a whirlwind. Just when Bheem thought he’d fail, he remembered Krishna’s words: “Pure strength of a true friend.”
Bheem closed his eyes and called out loudly, “Krishna! I’m not alone!” Chhota Bheem Aur Krishna
Instantly, Krishna appeared – not with a weapon, but with a tiny butter pot. He smiled and flicked a bit of butter at Ghurnasur’s giant ear. The butter melted into the demon’s ear, tickling him so much that he spun out of control, sneezed out the flute, and flew away screaming, “Not butter! Anything but butter!” Bheem tried to punch him, but his fists
“Namaste, Bheem!” Krishna grinned, stealing a laddoo from Bheem’s pocket without even touching it. “I need your help. A demon named (the demon of stolen sounds) has taken my magical flute. Without it, the birds won’t sing, the rivers won’t dance, and happiness across the land will fade. He’s hiding in the Cave of Whispers near your Mount Dholu.” I’m not alone
Krishna caught his flute, played a single soft note, and the whole cave filled with rainbow light. Outside, Dholakpur’s birds began singing again, and the river sparkled.
From that day on, whenever Bheem felt afraid, he’d touch the feather and hear a whisper: “Play on, brave one. The music never leaves you.”