Krishna's Lineage

by Simon Brodbeck

  7 Rohinī was overjoyed to receive that son, but when she entered the house shining like the star Rohinī, she lowered her face slightly.

  8 In the wake of that child, Devakī conceived the embryo for whose sake Kamsa had killed the seven infants. 9 Kamsa’s guards guarded that embryo assiduously, and Hari stayed there, living as an embryo in accordance with his own inclination. 10 And on that same day, Yashodā too conceived an embryo. It was Sleep, who had originated from Vishnu’s body and was doing Vishnu’s bidding.

  11 In the eighth month, before the usual gestation period was complete, the two women, Devakī and Yashodā, gave birth at the same time. 12 The night on which Lord Krishna was born in the Vrishni family was the very same night on which Yashodā—the esteemed wife of cowherd Nanda, the keeper of Kamsa’s cows—had her daughter. 13 Yashodā and Devakī had both been pregnant for the same length of time, and when the bejewelled midnight hour had come, under the constellation of Abhijit the Victorious, Devakī gave birth to Vishnu, and Yashodā gave birth to a little girl.

  14 When Janārdana was born the oceans trembled, the mountains shook, and fires that had gone out blazed up again. 15 When Janārdana was born benign breezes blew, the dust was cleared away, and the stars shone. 16 In the firmament the kettledrums of the gods sounded without being beaten, and Indra the lord of the third heaven rained a shower of blossoms from the sky. 17 Together with the light-elves and celestial nymphs, the great seers approached Madhusūdana, praising him with songs and benedictions.

  18 As quickly as he could, Vasudeva, frightened but full of love for his son, picked up the child and went to Yashodā’s house. 19 There, without anyone noticing, he set the boy down for Yashodā, and then he took the girl away and put her on Devakī’s bed. 20 Once the switch had been made, Vasudeva left the house. He was giddy with fear for both infants, but he’d completed his task. 21 Ānakadundubhi then announced to Ugrasena’s son Kamsa that a beautiful baby girl had been born.

  22 When he heard this, mighty Kamsa immediately rushed to the door of Vasudeva’s house, accompanied by his guards. 23 There at the door he spoke quickly, with menacing words: Is it a boy or a girl? Hand it over immediately!

  24 All the women accompanying Devakī started wailing. But Devakī said to Kamsa: The baby’s a girl, my son. 25 You’ve already killed my seven glorious baby sons, my lord. This one’s a daughter: she’s as good as dead.* Have a look, if you want.

  26 Kamsa inspected the girl and was delighted. Full of joy, that wicked-minded man said: When a girl is born, she is indeed as good as dead.

  27 That girl was as long-suffering as the earth. She was on the child-bed, her hair still wet from the amniotic fluid, when she was disturbed and placed on the ground in front of Kamsa. 28 The man took her by the foot, whirled her around, shook her about, then suddenly lifted her up high and smashed her down onto the stone.

  She was shaken about, but before being smashed onto the stone surface she flew up to heaven. 29 Leaving the infant body behind, she headed swiftly into the sky, her hair flying loose. And when she got there she was a young woman forever, a divine woman praised by the gods, with divine garlands and unguents.

  30 Wearing clothes of blue and yellow, she had breasts like the globes on an elephant’s head, a bottom as broad as a chariot, a face like the moon, and four arms. 31 She shone with a colour as clear as lightning, her eyes were like newly risen suns, her voice like a thundercloud. She was like a twilight with breasts instead of clouds. 32 When the night had been swallowed up by darkness and was thronging with gangs of sprites, she would appear, dancing, laughing, and shining uncannily.

  33 After she’d entered the sky, the wild woman drank a peerless draught, laughed a great laugh, and spoke angrily to Kamsa:

  34 Kamsa, Kamsa. It was for the sake of your own ruin that you destroyed me, lifting me up suddenly and smacking me down onto the stone. 35 Because you did that, at the time of your death, when you’re being dragged around by your enemy, I will tear your body open with my bare hands and drink your warm blood.

  36 Having uttered these terrible words, the goddess, together with her retinue, roamed across the sky where the gods make their home, taking whatever path she chose.

  37 After she’d gone, Kamsa thought that she was the one who would kill him. Ashamed, he said to Devakī in private:

  38 I’ve made the effort, cousin. I’ve killed your children. But my death looms in a different way and from a different place, goddess. 39 It was pointless to make the effort. I’ve attacked my own family, but my human deeds have failed to overcome the will of the gods.

  40 Let go of the painful worry that your children have caused you. I was just the instrumental cause, while time was turning on them. 41 Time is a person’s only enemy. It’s time that rings the changes: time takes everyone away, and people like me just act as the instrumental cause. 42 So don’t be troubled on account of your children. Stop your sorrowful weeping. That’s what the human state is like—there’s no constancy to time.

  43 I bow my head down to your two feet, Devakī, as a son of yours would. Don’t be resentful towards me. I myself know that I did wrong.

  44–45 With her face covered in tears, the poor woman looked at Kamsa, her master, and spoke to him like a mother.

  Devakī said:

  Get up, get up, my calf. You killed those babies in front of me in the form of time, but in truth you weren’t the cause here, my child. Their own karma was the cause. 46 When you bow your head down to my two feet, disgusted by your own behaviour, I can forgive what you did in destroying my babies.

  47 Already in infancy, death is ever-present; in childhood it doesn’t retreat; even in their prime a person is in death’s power; and an old person is already dead. 48 To the extent that an unborn child can’t be seen, it doesn’t exist. Then, once it’s born, it moves again towards the state of being unborn—the disposer leads it there. 49 So off you go, my child, and may I have no cause to be angry with you. When something’s already been taken away by death, all that remains is for the occasion to arise. 50 In truth, death occurs because of the primeval imperative to procreate, because of what the mother and father did, and because of birth.

  51 After hearing Devakī’s speech, Kamsa, his efforts frustrated, left for his own home, depressed and totally distraught.

  49. The Journey to the Cattle Station

  1 Vaishampāyana said:

  Vasudeva heard that Rohinī had already given birth earlier, at the cattle station, to a son with a face lovelier than the moon. 2 He immediately spoke fine words to cowherd Nanda:

  You must take Yashodā here, and go to the cattle station. 3 Go there and perform the necessary rites for the two boys, beginning with the ceremony for the newborn, my boy, and raise them nicely at the cattle station. Keep my baby son by Rohinī safe at the cattle station.

  4 In childhood everyone plays around, but in childhood everyone’s also at their most vicious, and non-human beings are bolder when it comes to children. So be very careful during this period.

  5 Of all fathers I’ll be the one who deserves to be criticised by the ancestors, because I’m not going to see the face of my only baby son. 6 For even though I’m honest and wise, my wisdom has been removed against my will, because I’m afraid of Kamsa. It’s truly merciless when a child is killed.

  7 Cowherd Nanda, my boy. Whatever you can do to look after my son by Rohinī, you must find out the facts and do it, for in this world there are many troubles that frighten children. 8 That son of mine’s the older one, and this one of yours is the younger, but you must feel free to regard them both with equal affection. 9 As the two of them grow up similar in age, cowherd Nanda, you must make sure they both prosper at the cattle station.

  10 And make sure not to set up the cattle station in Vrindāvana, for there’s danger there, in the domain of the wicked Keshin.

  11 You must protect these two babies from snakes, insects, and birds, and from the cows and calves in the cowpens. 12 Cowherd Nanda, the night is
gone. Your cart is fast, so travel swiftly. These birds here are speeding you on, flying from left to right.*

  13 After noble Vasudeva had secretly told him to leave, cowherd Nanda got on his cart with Yashodā as happily as can be. 14 That thoughtful and dependable man had put the baby boy to bed in a covered cradle, which he carried on his shoulders.

  15 He travelled along a lonely waterside path that was wafted by cool winds and gave views of Yamunā’s banks.

  16 He caught sight of the cattle station beside Yamunā’s banks, brushed by cool breezes in the lovely country around Mount Govardhana. 17 It was delightful, home to vines, creepers, and huge trees, protected against beasts of prey, and dotted with cows moving around, their heads lowered to the grass. 18 There were level pastures for the cows, and level entry-places in the ponds, and trees that had been roughed up by blows from bulls’ shoulders and horns. 19 The station was popular with flesh-eating vultures and flesh-seeking raptors, and it was surrounded by jackals, lions, and other wild beasts that feed on marrow and fat. 20 The roaring of a tiger rang out. There were flocks of various birds, there were sweet blossoms and fruits, there were carpets of long grass. It was delightful.

  21 The cattle station teemed with cowherd women. Cows lowed tenderly, setting off a racket of calves mooing on all sides. 22 The encampment was a great whirl of carts, a confusion of thorn hedges, surrounded at its edges by fallen great forest trees, 23 and decorated by the ropes and posts that had been erected for the calves. The ground was covered in dung. There were shops and shacks shaded by awnings made of straw. 24 There were suitable pastures, and lots of tethers, and healthy and happy people, and churns making sloshing noises, 25 and streams of buttermilk, and the earth was wet with whey. The cowherd women made sloshing noises with their belt-driven churning-rods.

  26 The encampment was a playground for the young cowherd boys, who wore their hair in side-locks. Inside it there were cattle enclosures with barred gates, and a crowded mass of cowsheds, and breezes perfumed by the ghee that was being ripened. 27 The whole place was full of young women, the cowherd girls, with clothes of yellow and dark blue and garlands of forest flowers. 28 There were lots of women with pitchers on their heads carrying water along the path from the bank of the Yamunā, and there were lots of clothes strung together and hanging up to dry.

  29 As the delighted cowherd Nanda entered the cattle station with its cowherd din, the old cowherd men came out to meet him, as did the old women. He was glad to be stopping at such a pleasant place of refuge. 30 And when he reached the great lady Rohinī, Vasudeva’s delight, he set down the hidden Krishna, who shone like the newly risen sun.

  50. The Killing of Pūtanā

  1 Vaishampāyana said:

  While cowherd Nanda was living there at the cattle station, being a cowherd, a long time passed. 2 The two boys were given names, and they both grew nicely. The elder was named Sankarshana, and the younger one Krishna.

  3 Krishna the Dark One, Hari in another body, was dark as a cloud. He grew up among the cattle, like a raincloud growing over the ocean.

  4 Although Yashodā adored the child, she once left him asleep under a cart and went off to the River Yamunā. 5 Having infant fun, flailing out with his arms and legs, Krishna cried out sweetly, kicking his feet up. 6 In so doing, he overturned the cart with one foot. He turned it upside down and howled, longing for the breast.

  7 At that very moment Yashodā arrived in haste, her washed body splashed by her leaking milk. She was like a cow whose calf has been shut in. 8 She saw that even though there was no wind, the cart had turned over. She cried out with relief and quickly gathered up the child, 9 not realising that he was the one who’d overturned the cart. She rejoiced that her child was safe, but she was apprehensive too. She said:

  10 My son! What will your father say when he hears you were asleep under a cart and the cart capsized? He’ll be furious. 11 Why did I bathe such a wicked bath? Why did I go off to the river, I who now see you out in the open, my son, next to an overturned cart?

  12 Cowherd Nanda had been grazing the cows in the forest, and at that very moment he arrived back at the settlement, wearing clay-coloured clothes. 13 He saw the cart upside-down, crowned by its wheels, its chassis twisted, its axle broken, with all the pails and pots and pans smashed. 14 He immediately rushed up, horrified, tears suddenly in his eyes, asking again and again if his son was safe. 15 But once he’d seen the child drinking at Yashodā’s breast, he regained his composure. He said: If it wasn’t fighting bulls that overturned my cart, then what was it?

  16 Yashodā replied to him, nervous and stammering: I don’t know why the cart fell to the ground. 17 I went to the river to wash the clothes, faithful husband, and when I came back I saw the cart upside-down on the ground.

  18 As they were talking, some children spoke up: This baby knocked the cart over with his foot. We happened to be here by chance, and we saw it.

  19 Everyone said it was a marvel, their eyes wide in wonder. And they strapped up its wheels and put the cart upright again.

  20 Later, at the appointed hour of midnight, Kamsa the Bhoja’s wet-nurse, the famous Pūtanā, appeared in the form of a bird. 21 Chirping again and again in a voice as deep as a tiger’s, she perched on the cart’s axle and sprayed out a squirted stream.*

  22 That night, while everyone was asleep, she offered Krishna her breast. Krishna drained her breast, and with it her life, and he roared. The bird fell to the ground immediately, her breast in tatters.

  23 People woke up, disturbed by the noise: cowherd Nanda, and the cowherds, and Yashodā, who was terrified. 24 They saw the bird fallen slain on the ground, ripped open as if by a thunderbolt, its breast gone, its life gone too. 25 The frightened cowherds singled out cowherd Nanda and surrounded him, saying: What on earth is this? Who could have done this?

  26 After the baffled cowherds had gone back to their homes, cowherd Nanda asked Yashodā in bewilderment: 27 What kind of deed is this? I don’t understand. I’m totally amazed by it. Worried wife, I’m worried that our son’s in danger.

  28 Yashodā, afraid, said: Faithful husband, I don’t know what on earth this is. I went to sleep with the child, and then the noise woke me up.

  29 Although they didn’t let Yashodā know it, cowherd Nanda and his friends were horrified, and they became extremely fearful of Kamsa.

  51. The Wrecking of the Two Arjuna Trees

  1 Vaishampāyana said:

  As time passed, those lovely boys named Krishna and Sankarshana both began to crawl.

  2 The two boys were inseparable. Right from their infancy they were a single entity. They shone like a waxing moon and a rising sun, and they were both gorgeous. They shared the same plan, 3 they were built on the same model, they shared the same bed, seat, and meals, they were dressed in the same clothes and promoted the same childhood code, 4 and they both spent their spare time in the same way. They were one and the same body split in two, two great heroes with the same behaviour, one childhood between two. 5 Both of them were the world’s sole authority: they were two humans in a tale of the gods, two cowherds of the whole world who had become cowherd boys.

  6 Playing the same games as each other, those two shone like the moon and the sun outdoing each other’s beams in the sky. 7 They looked like two wild young elephants, both of them wriggling everywhere, their arms like snake coils, their bodies smeared with dirt. 8 Their bodies sometimes coated in ash, sometimes consecrated with cowdung, they raced around there like two Kumāras, sons of the fire. 9 Sometimes they were to be seen playing in the calfpens, crawling around on their happy knees, their hair and bodies daubed with dung. 10 Playing tricks on people and bursting into laughter time and time again, they were beautiful and favoured by fortune, and they brought joy to their father. 11 Those two lovely little ones were such darling boys. With their hair in their eyes, they shone with faces like the moon.

  12 Cowherd Nanda could see that the two boys were completely caught up in each other. In their frenzy the
y romped all over the cattle station, but he was unable to stop them. 13 So Yashodā kept fetching lotus-eyed Krishna back to the foot of the cart again and again, and telling him off. Then she lost her temper, 14 and she fastened a rope around his belly and tied him to a mortar. She said to him: Get out of that if you can!

  Then she got on with her work. But while Yashodā wasn’t looking, he escaped from the yard. 15 Krishna was playing a childhood game: causing amazement in the settlement, Krishna escaped from the yard, dragging the mortar behind him.

  16 Roaming through the scrubland, dragging the mortar behind him, the youngster passed between a pair of old arjuna trees. 17 The mortar that was tied to him fell sideways as he dragged it along, and it snagged onto the arjuna trees, but he carried on dragging it, uprooting them. 18 That child dragged the wrecked arjuna trees along at speed, root and branch. And in between them, he just laughed.

  19 He resorted to his own celestial power as a demonstration for the cowherds. It was because of the child’s power that the rope held firm.

  20 Cowherd women standing on the path along the Yamunā’s bank saw the child, and shouting in amazement, they ran to find Yashodā. 21 In a flurry, with consternation on their faces, the women said to Yashodā:

  Come, Yashodā, come here! Why are you dawdling? 22 The two arjuna trees in the cattle station, the ones that make wishes come true—those trees have fallen down upon your son. 23 Tied up there like a calf, a stout rope round his belly, that young son of yours is in between the two trees, laughing. 24 Get up, you daft, dozy woman! If you think you know what’s what, then go and fetch your son! He’s alive—it’s as if he’s been released from the jaws of death.

  25 She got up straight away, alarmed, crying out in panic, and rushed to the place where the two fallen great trees were. 26 She saw her infant son in between the two trees, bound by the rope around his belly, dragging the mortar.