Seasons of Splendour

by Madhur Jaffrey

  Vasudev had no choice. The baby had to be taken across the river to Gokul if his life was to be saved.

  He put Krishna into a threshing basket and tucked the basket firmly in the crook of his right arm. Then he waded in.

  Vasudev could hardly believe it. The water seemed to be rising even as he walked. He transferred the basket to the top of his head, but the water rose higher. Soon it was up to his nose.

  What the poor human father did not realize was that the river was rising only because it wished to touch the god Krishna’s feet.

  The baby knew this. Very gently he lowered a tiny foot so it dangled down from the basket, low enough to touch the water. At once the mighty Yamuna River receded and parted, making a path for father and son. As they crossed the river bed the waters closed behind them.

  In Gokul, Vasudev made straight for the house of his sister, Yashoda. There he exchanged his son for his newborn niece, then returned to his cell just the way he had left it.

  Next morning, Kans got word that Devaki had given birth to yet another daughter. Again, he sneaked in through the back door and snatched the baby up to kill it.

  But this time, the baby girl flew right out of his hands crying,

  ‘Kans, you intended to do an evil thing

  But I am not the one you seek

  He is born already

  And safely tucked away.’

  Kans was furious. He raved at Vasudev and Devaki for deceiving him. He yelled at the gods, ‘I will get the boy. You wait. He is not getting away from me. Nobody defies King Kans.’

  Kans issued a royal decree that would take care, once and for all, of his little enemy: all newborn males in the kingdom were to be put to death.

  The King’s soldiers went forth – into every little hut and every palace – and they slaughtered every male child that was under twelve months of age. The parents screeched and cried but Kans was immune to their pain.

  He laughed in his palace.

  Finally, he was secure from all threats to his life.

  What he did not know was that Krishna was not in his kingdom at all. Gokul lay outside his domain. The baby Krishna was safe.

  Krishna and the Demon Nurse

  The wicked King Kans thought he was sitting securely on his throne when an informer approached him one day with these words. ‘Your highness, I notice you are feeling very happy these days.’

  ‘And why should I not be?’ asked Kans. ‘There are no rebellions in my kingdom, my enemies are quiet, and there is enough gold to last us for several generations.’

  ‘Your father still languishes in prison, so there is no threat there.’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ said Kans, dismissively. He did not wish to think about his father too much.

  ‘There is one problem, as I see it,’ the informer went on.

  ‘And what is that?’ said the King, suddenly wary.

  ‘Devaki’s son.’

  Kans stood up. ‘Get out of my sight. How dare you bring up such matters.’

  ‘Well, if you do not want to talk about it … I have nothing to lose by being quiet. I will say no more.’

  ‘What on earth are you trying to tell me?’ Kans thundered.

  ‘Do not listen to me if you so wish. All I came to tell you was that Devaki’s son …’

  ‘Devaki’s son is dead. All male infants were killed on my orders,’ Kans said.

  ‘Apparently not all. Not this one. He was taken across the Yamuna River, outside your kingdom, outside your realm and there he lives – in safety. He is being brought up by foster-parents, his aunt, Yashoda, and his uncle, Nanda, the cowherd. He is still a baby, of course … something can still … be arranged. I understand that the family is looking for a nurse.’

  ‘Are you sure of your facts?’

  ‘Oh yes, I have checked them very carefully. Krishna is definitely Devaki’s son.’

  ‘I know what I’ll do,’ said Kans, who excelled in thinking up evil schemes. ‘Go and find the demon, Pootana, and bring her to me.’

  Pootana was never easy to find. She was always running around the world on unpleasant errands of her own, but the informer managed to locate her at the bottom of a well where she was making a meal out of toads.

  ‘Hey, Pootana,’ the informer yelled down the well, ‘King Kans needs you. Come up and I will tell you about it.’

  ‘Is it dirty work he needs me for?’ Pootana yelled back. ‘Otherwise I’m not coming.’

  ‘Yes, you know King Kans well enough. Simple killings he leaves to his soldiers. This errand requires your special skills.’

  Pootana liked flattery. ‘Wait, I’m coming up,’ she yelled back.

  What came creeping over the wall of the well was a sight to behold.

  Pootana was ugly and smelly.

  Her black, pimply face had two small eyes peeping out from tiny openings and out of her mouth protruded two large fangs.

  Pootana followed the informer into the presence of King Kans.

  Kans held his nose, struck anew by the odour that Pootana gave off.

  ‘You do smell very bad!’ Kans said.

  ‘Have you called me here to insult me? If so, I shall leave.’

  ‘No, no, stay. We have business to conduct. There is a baby … a boy called Krishna in the household of Nanda and Yashoda in the town of Gokul.’

  ‘And that town is outside your kingdom.’

  ‘You guessed correctly.’

  ‘But there are other means …’

  ‘And that is where you come in. Now, if you walked into that cowherd’s house in Gokul looking as you do they will not let you in.’

  ‘I can disguise myself,’ snapped Pootana.

  ‘I know, I know. I want you to become the prettiest, sweetest, most soft-spoken, loving damsel possible. Dress modestly and try to get the job of nurse in that household. Once you are in, find a way of killing the child. Take your time and be careful. That family seems very shrewd. Here are some jewels for your pains.’

  ‘Consider the job done,’ said the demon as she crept away.

  The very next day, a sweet, gentle, shy girl appeared on Yashoda’s doorstep.

  ‘I hope I am not disturbing you,’ the girl said.

  ‘Oh, not at all, please come in,’ Yashoda said in her friendly way.

  ‘Actually, I came here because … I’d heard you had need of a nurse … I … I …’ The girl could not go on. She fainted on the doorstep.

  Yashoda sprinkled water on her forehead and put some quilts over her to warm her up. It was January now. The baby Krishna was almost six months old.

  Slowly the girl came to. ‘Oh, I am such an inconvenience to you. It is just … that I have not eaten for a few days. There is a famine in my village … and my entire family … my husband and children … have perished.’

  ‘Oh dear,’ Yashoda said. ‘I will get you some food right away.’

  ‘Please,’ said the girl, ‘I don’t want your charity. I would really like to pay for my food with work. Perhaps you can employ me as a nurse for your son. I miss my own children so very much.’

  ‘Oh yes, that is perfect,’ Yashoda said. ‘Why not? I am sure you will be a kind nurse to our son.’

  And so Pootana was employed as a nurse in Nanda and Yashoda’s household.

  She was careful, just as she had promised King Kans. For weeks on end she appeared as a real nurse. She cooed to the baby, played with him and made him laugh.

  ‘You seem to have found the perfect nurse,’ Nanda said to his wife, Yashoda.

  One day when Yashoda was running a fever Pootana said, ‘You rest. Why don’t you let me feed the baby instead. I have plenty of milk in my breast.’

  ‘Very well,’ said Yashoda, who now trusted the nurse completely. ‘I’ll just sleep for a bit. I’m sure that will make me feel better.’

  Pootana took the baby into a back room. First she put poison on her nipples, then said to the child, ‘Come now, baby, here’s your food, suck …’

  Krishna was no ordi
nary baby. He took her nipple firmly between his gums and sucked and sucked. And sucked and sucked. And sucked and sucked.

  ‘Stop, you are hurting me,’ Pootana said pushing the baby’s mouth away.

  But the baby would not be pushed away – and he would not stop sucking.

  Pootana began screaming and dancing wildly in pain. She let go of the baby but it clung to her nipple. The pain was such that Pootana began to change back into the demon she really was – ugly and evil smelling.

  Pootana shrieked for mercy but the baby Krishna went on sucking and sucking – until he had sucked all of Pootana’s life away.

  The Serpent King

  Kaliya, the Serpent King, was no ordinary snake. He had five heads and was so large that he could crush humans to death in a matter of seconds. The Serpent King lived under the darkest whirlpools of the Yamuna River and this is where he held his court. Whenever he so wished, he would rise out of the water and lay waste the countryside, ferociously breathing fire and black smoke wherever he went.

  Krishna was almost twelve years old by now. Even at this tender age he was the acknowledged leader among his friends and looked upon with great respect by the large community of nomadic cowherds that moved wherever the pasture was good.

  One day, a group of cowherds came to Krishna and said, ‘Kaliya must be stopped. He has already swallowed three hundred chickens, a hundred and seventy-eight goats, and eighty-three cows. Yesterday he killed the blacksmith’s son. This is the last straw. Anyone that tries to cross the river, swim, graze cattle, grow watermelons, milk goats or even walk by the river is in danger. Something must be done.’

  Krishna collected a group of brave friends and walked towards the edge of the water. Suddenly a cloud of black smoke rose above the river, shooting flames swirled upwards and, in one quick swipe, Kaliya encircled all of Krishna’s friends in the curl of his body and dragged them down to the bottom of the river.

  Having done their dirty deed, the five dreaded heads bobbed up again, breaking the surface of the water. This time the Serpent King was floating along casually, mockingly.

  Krishna took one flying leap and landed on all the five hooded heads of the dreaded snake. He crushed one head under one arm and another head under another arm. With his feet he began a heavy-footed dance on the remaining three.

  Kaliya felt as if all the mountains of the Himalayas were raining on his head. Such was the power of Krishna’s feet.

  He decided to dive into his underwater court. He would drown Krishna this way.

  Krishna held his breath as Kaliya dived deeper and deeper.

  Having killed two of Kaliya’s heads Krishna began squeezing the next two under his arms until they also gave up and died.

  The last head fought on. It snapped and lunged at Krishna and breathed fire on him, but Krishna trapped that head, too, under his arm and began to squeeze.

  Kaliya gave a few last gasps and died.

  Krishna swam into Kaliya’s court where all his friends, now quite pale and blue, lay dying. He pulled them out of the water and laid them down on the shore. Then, with his mouth, he breathed life into each one saying, ‘Dearest friends, it is time to awaken. Kaliya our enemy is dead. Awaken. Awaken. It is time to tend our cows.’

  How Krishna Killed the Wicked King Kans

  ‘Let us begin a week of festivities,’ the wicked King Kans proclaimed from his throne. ‘All our enemies are dead or locked up. This winter’s crop has been blessedly plentiful. Our granaries are full of wheat and dried beans and our treasure houses are filled with gold and jewels. We have decided to celebrate with elephant races, wrestling matches, musical plays and banquets. See that all is arranged.’

  ‘Not a bad idea. Not bad at all,’ said one of his informers. ‘The granaries and treasure houses are full and most of your enemies are disposed of.’

  King Kans turned sharply towards him. ‘What do you mean by that remark?’

  ‘Which remark, your highness?’

  Kans snarled, ‘That most of my enemies are disposed of.’

  ‘Well, your highness, that is just what I meant. Your father is in a dungeon and your sister and her husband are in jail. Most of them are taken care of.’

  ‘But not all?’

  ‘Well, there is the small matter of Krishna, the cowherd, your sister’s son. He is a youth now and very highly regarded across the river. Not everyone realizes that he is your heir. If he decides to spread this information around, your people could … could possibly … there is a chance … that they could reject you … in favour … of your nephew.’

  ‘Nephew?’ thundered Kans. ‘I have no nephew.’ The words of the wise Sage uttered almost eighteen years ago at his sister’s wedding clutched at his heart and gave it a deadly squeeze. The Sage had said, ‘Do not let this couple go. Do you not know that you are doomed to die at the hands of their child?’

  Kans’s heart beat so hard he thought it would burst out of his chest.

  ‘If you are talking about Krishna, then the matter was taken care of years ago by the demon, Pootana. Pootana never fails.’

  ‘She must have failed this time. Krishna not only lives but he is reputed to be both popular and strong.’

  ‘How do you know this?’ Kans asked.

  ‘All you have to do is to cross the Yamuna River … and you will hear of no one else. The people say Krishna is a god … that he killed Kaliya the dreaded Serpent King, that he sucked away the life of a nurse who tried to poison him … that …’

  ‘Ahhhhh,’ cried Kans. He had begun to understand.

  ‘As for his strength,’ went on the informer, ‘I understand Krishna and his foster-brother Balram are champion wrestlers. Even on this side of the river people are beginning to turn to him for help.’

  Another evil scheme had started to form in Kans’s mind. ‘I know what we must do. Next week, for our festivities, let us put extra emphasis on the wrestling matches. Let us send out a challenge to all the young wrestlers within a thousand miles to come and try to beat our court champions, Chanur and Mustik.’ Kans grinned with satisfaction. Chanur and Mustik were giants, stronger than bull buffaloes. They would take care of Krishna, once and for all.

  Kans called his drummers and heralds and asked them to travel everywhere within a thousand miles of the palace with an announcement of the King’s festivities, most especially the wrestling match.

  ‘Come here,’ Kans said, calling his chief herald towards him. ‘There is a cowherd by the name of Krishna. I want you to make sure that he not only hears the announcement, but that he and his brother accept the challenge. How you do this, I leave up to you. Here is a ruby for your extra trouble.’

  The chief herald pocketed the ruby. He had of course heard of Krishna. Had not everyone? The herald had also seen Chanur and Mustik in action and no wrestlers on earth had been able to defeat them. Poor Krishna did not stand a chance.

  The entire kingdom now heard about the festivities.

  ‘Hear ye, hear ye,’ the chief herald shouted above the drum rolls. ‘Hear ye, hear ye. The almighty, all-knowing, all-seeing father of the universe, King of Mathura, King Kans hereby offers a challenge to any youth within a thousand miles of his palace. If he can defeat the wrestlers Chanur and Mustik in a fair match, he will be rewarded with a treasure chest.’

  Seeing Krishna and Balram standing with a group of friends, the herald went on, ‘The court has heard of these two brothers by reputation. Will they agree to fight like champions or will they sneak away like cowards?’

  The taunt had its desired effect.

  ‘I will fight. I will accept the challenge,’ Krishna said.

  ‘So will I,’ Balram followed.

  ‘Well then, it is all settled,’ the herald said, his lips curling up in triumph. ‘We will let the public know. It will be the match of the century.’

  Wrestling matches are supposed to be played according to fair rules, but King Kans had no intention of letting Krishna survive.

  On the day of the
match, he called his Prime Minister aside and told him the plan. ‘As soon as Krishna and Balram come into the wrestling ring, let loose the mad, wild elephant we have chained in the barn. Say that the elephant broke away by accident, but make sure that it charges straight at those two young men. They cannot possibly survive. We will all mourn the accident of course, and offer the family gold in compensation. Krishna will be dead and the world will consider us generous beyond measure.’

  ‘What a perfect plan, your highness,’ said the Prime Minister.

  ‘There is a back-up plan too, if the first one fails. Chanur and Mustik will be waiting. If the mad elephant does not succeed, our wrestlers will go in and finish the brothers.’

  ‘Perfect. Perfect. Your highness thinks of everything.’

  All the spectators were now collected around the wrestling ring, with King Kans seated higher up on a dais.

  Krishna and Balram walked into the ring.

  The crowd got up on its feet and cheered.

  King Kans did not like that too much. ‘You won’t be cheering for long,’ he muttered between his teeth.

  Just then a gate flew open and a trumpeting elephant came charging towards the brothers.

  Without a second’s hesitation, Krishna leapt upon the elephant’s back and with his long, strong arms, squeezed its neck until the creature crumpled under him.

  Dead. The elephant was dead.

  The crowd got up and cheered.

  Kans stared in disbelief. ‘Hurry, hurry, send in Chanur and Mustik.’

  The two giant wrestlers strutted into the ring, their well-oiled muscles rippling in the sun. They looked more like mammoths than men. Their shoulders were massive.

  ‘I will take Chanur,’ said Krishna.

  ‘And I will handle Mustik,’ said Balram.

  Krishna took a flying leap at Chanur and wrestled him to the ground. Then he twisted his neck and broke it.

  Balram picked Mustik up by his right leg and threw him to the ground. Then he squeezed his chest in a bear hug and burst his heart.

  Both wrestlers were dead.