Near the entrance of the gymnasium stood a neat, spacious stone tank, filled with Yamuna’s water to wash the dust-smeared, sweaty bodies after heavy exercise. In the four corners of the gymnasium, attendants had placed flaming Karanjel oil torches in the alcoves. The entire gymnasium was glowing in the dim yellow light of the torches. A deep, large, circular wrestling pit was dug right in the centre. The red soil in the pit was glistening. It was exclusively prepared by the gopa wrestlers. Using their hoes, they had kneaded it with a touch of Karanjel oil and pots of buttermilk. Every day they would turn the soil over with their hoes. They called it ‘digging the pit’. Big iron basins were located all around the wrestling pit. They were filled with sacred ash that father had collected by dispatching his attendants to yajnas performed at various places. This ash was used to dry the sweaty bodies of the wrestlers, after their duels in the pit. As this ash contained selected herbal plants used in the Yajnas it had medicinal qualities.
Inside the gymnasium an idol of the family goddess ‘Ida’ carved in a Shaligrama stone was placed in a small shrine facing east. As per kaka’s instructions we all kneeled down before Goddess ‘Ida’ first. We also bowed to Kelinandakaka and began our workout. The grunting sounds of push-ups and pull-ups started echoing. The swirling Mrudgalas, the chuck-chuck sounds of the Mallakhamba poles produced by athletes moving up and down, and the thudding sounds of huge stones when they were dropped down—the gymnasium walls echoed with the thunderous sounds of heavy exercises. Our bodies
were really warmed up, and suddenly, kaka pushed dada and
me in the wrestling pit. He himself also got in. Following
him other friends also joined us. We tightened our brick-red dhotis and prepared ourselves for the duels by ‘Kakshabandhana’. Now many pairs jumped into the pit and thumping their thighs and arms everyone started grappling with each other competitively.
Kaka put his arm around my neck and gave me a big jerk. I tumbled face down in the sand right at his feet! Kaka hit dada in the same manner and knocked him down. Wiping the soil off our mouths and noses, we were barely standing up, when Kelinandakaka slapped me really hard near my ears! That intense blow made me shut my eyes! Instantly the stars in the sky shone brightly in front of my eyes like sparks of fire! The whole world spun around me. This was indeed a totally different experience. Quite unforgettable!
Shaking my neck left and right I was barely standing when kaka sneaked upon me from behind and kicked my calf hard with his heavy foot. I fell on my knees with excruciating pain! After some time kaka came near me. He patted my shoulders affectionately, pulled me up, ruffled my curly, thick hair and said lovingly, “Kanhoba, nobody even realized when and how you learnt to swim on your own, rushing into the Yamuna. That strategy won’t work here though. This is wrestling. If one wants to swim in this river of soil, the swimmer needs to conquer his fear first, and make his heart strong. That is why to give you an idea, I gave hard blows in the beginning. You will have to face these types of strikes every single day. Only when you will learn to easily land such hard blows on your opponent will you become a true wrestler – a proficient wrestler. Think about it and tell me, are you ready for this?”
He pressed my hand even more affectionately. I smiled and said to him, ‘‘Of course, Kelikaka, I am ready.” Kaka picked up a handful of soil and handed it to me and dada as a gesture of challenge. We thumped our arms loudly and challenged each other to a duel.
Thumping his own arm kaka gave us a cue with his eyes. We also thumped our arms. We were neither brothers nor related to anybody now. We were just two rivals in a wrestling match! Our friends also thumped their arms. The entire gymnasium reverberated with the deafening sounds of the wrestlers loudly thumping their arms and thighs to challenge each other. Instantaneously clashing our heads against each other, biting our lips, and gritting our teeth, dada and I started fighting with each other vehemently. Kaka would stop us from time to time to explain the subtleties of various wrestling manoeuvres—Abhyakarsha, Keelvajranipata, Avarodha, and Bahukantaka and so on.
We had lost track of time. Eventually both of us got all drenched in streams of sweat. Some of our friends brought the sacred ash from the iron basin and spread it on our backs. I was already dark complexioned. Now with the layer of white ash on my body I was looking like a ghost wandering in the darkness of the night! If Yashodamata had seen me like this, she would have screamed with horror!
After about half an hour Kelinandakaka thumped his arms loudly, declaring the end of the session. Dada, my exhausted cousins and friends who were all doused in sweat, lay strewn in the wrestling pit. I also lay flat on my stomach, in the centre of the pit. We didn’t even realize when Kelinandakaka gently
spread the fine and soft soil on our sweaty bodies. The warmth of the blanket of soil was so comfortable that we didn’t want
to get out of it. Yamuna had made me realize the meaning
of ‘Jala’or water while I swam in her waters to my heart’s content. Gazing at the sun while afloat, I realized the meaning of ‘Teja’ or splendour. Today the sacred soil in the wrestling pit
was silently whispering the meaning of ‘Prithvi’ or earth in my ears.
Now our days in Gokul expanded like the grand plumage of a peacock. A single feather had multiple eyes and there were so many feathers with so many eyes!
There wasn’t a single house in Gokul that we didn’t know! There was not a single dairy storage room in these houses that had escaped from the secret raids of our close friends, Balaramadada, and me. Why did we steal from others in Gokul when there was abundance of milk, curds and butter at our own house? It was because, for us the entire Gokul was one big, spacious house – our own house! I had a strong desire to make others feel the same. It was my intense wish that they shared everything without being possessive about anything. Not a single gopa couple was unknown to me. For dada and me all the gopa children were like our own cousins, our Eka.
The more we got acquainted with Gokul the more we enjoyed a variety of thrilling games and mischief that we played inside and outside Gokul. There was no limit to our antics. If I were to share all these stories with you it will be almost like an epic! Still, I should share at least one such antic with you, just to give you an idea.
During the sunny season, sometimes a couple would be sleeping on two separate beds outside their house under the starlit night. Balaramadada and I would sneak upon them and discreetly tie a tight knot of the husband’s long beard with the wife’s long hair. Then just as smoothly a few of our friends would pick up both their beds, carry them near the western gate and leave them there.
The entire Gokul was quite annoyed with our pranks. Every single day an increasing number of married, unmarried, young, old and middle-aged gopis began turning up in groups at our residence. They would start clamouring to complain about us, “Yashoda, Rohini, should we live in Gokul or not? Or should we just go someplace else? Are you going to control your children at all? Your spoilt, insolent brats have become a nuisance!”
Both our mothers would get weary pleading with and trying to pacify them. Finally, they would wield their ultimate weapon saying, “Alright then, we will banish Krishna-Balarama from Gokul and send them to another Gokul far away! We are also fed up of their antics!”
These words would do the trick. All gopis would immediately lower their voices and whisper amongst themselves, “That’s not what we want. But the children should stay within their limits. That’s all.”
Then our mothers would offer them milk and buttermilk. They would go on chatting about something else and laugh heartily. Eventually they would leave our house whispering amongst themselves about us. We would watch them, hiding behind the doors of the room. They looked so pure and innocent to us, exactly like our cows leaving from the eastern gates of Gokul!
The footprints of dada and me were now imprinted on each and every grain of sand on the banks of the Yamuna. We were also closely acquainted with every blade of grass from all the me
adows spread on the outskirts of Gokul. What a variety of games we played under the open skies in the open space near the banks of the Yamuna! There was no limit, no end to it! Dada and I used to run madly in the sand near Yamuna to catch the illusory, fleeting shadows of the soaring birds. We would tease the monkeys jumping from tree to tree by baring our teeth at them. In summer, we had mimicked the escalating cooing sounds of the male cuckoo hidden in the dense trees – “Ku…hoo! Ku…hoo! How long are you going to coo, and for who? Are you calling your beloved?
Nowadays though, our Gokul was facing one crisis after another. Once a hideous wild donkey suddenly charged from the woods into the meadows where our cows were grazing. His deafening brays scared the hell out of the gently swaying grass in the meadows! Seeing him charging at them with flared nostrils the poor animals got terrified. In panic they started running helter-skelter raising their tails high. Our gopa friends began calling out to us in desperation, raising their staves in the air, “Krishna …, Balidada …, Run, Kanhaiya …, Sankudada … hurry, hurry, run faster!”
We ran as fast as we could from wherever we were, and together we attacked that bulky animal with all our might using all our expertise. Fighting him off ferociously for a while we brought him down. Happy and excited, the gopas hailed our names in victory and carried us to Gokul on their shoulders with pomp and clatter.
The account of that incident spread among other Gokuls in the land of Vraja. Jubilant gopas from other Gokuls started visiting our Gokul in flocks to share their joy and to shower us with their affection. They would ask many questions about us to grandfather Chitrasena, father, and all our kakas. Some of them would even come directly to the meadows to meet us. Meanwhile, one day we heard of an enormous serpent living in the deepest part of the Yamuna, tormenting the gopas and their cows all the time. It was as long as a gigantic python. A mere look at this hissing serpent would scare the hell out of anybody. Sometimes he would seek refuge in the thick meadows, and at other times he would simply hide underwater in the deep parts of Yamuna. We secretly kept an eye on him to get familiarized with his movements.
One day I went alone near that part of the Yamuna to keep an eye on the serpent. It was glaring noon. The serpent came out of the water and crawled into the thick meadows. He must have found a prey there. He gobbled it up and lingered sluggishly. This was a perfect opportunity. I pulled out two flat, rounded flint-stones tied in the yellow silk dhoti around my waist. I scraped the flint stone in my right hand against the one in my left hand. It produced tiny sparks, enough to set the dry meadows aflame. The grass flared up instantly with flames leaping high into the sky. In the glaring heat of the day this inferno raged. Watching the billowing smoke, all the gopas along with their children began running towards the Yamuna. By this time the terrifying snake came out of the meadows, scorched by the flames, writhing and hissing. Crawling towards the banks of the Yamuna, he lay dead there, tongue dangling loose out of his mouth.
Thorali came running, panting, beating her chest. Seeing me safe and unharmed she embraced me tightly. Kissing me uncontrollably she kept muttering to herself, “Death to that serpent! He is dead anyway. Come Kanha, let’s go home first.”My friends lifted me up on their shoulders. Along with Balaramadada they started marching towards Gokul with much hullabaloo. Somebody hailed thunderously, “Victory to Krishna, the king of gopas”. Others followed “Victory to Krishna Kanhaiya – Nandanandana!”
We all were living happily in Gokul. But this joy did not last for very long. Gokul faced double trouble this time—the attacks of wild animals along with natural calamities. In broad daylight, wild beasts like tigers, wolves and hyenas from surrounding woods started attacking our cows grazing in the meadows on the outskirts. Sometimes they wandered outside the fences with wide open jaws in search of prey. Our trained guard dogs would bark loudly at them but they were least bothered by it.
Once in a while a tiger would suddenly seize a stray calf by the neck and drag it to the forest. As soon as the gopas guarding the cattle saw it they would run and report it to father promptly. Then my fearless father would quickly grab a javelin from a corner of the veranda. Without waiting for anyone he would dart outside. Other gopas would just leave everything and rush after him.
Father would aim and unerringly strike the speeding tiger with the javelin, forcing him to let go of the wailing, frightened calf. He would then gently carry the half-dead calf in his arms, bring it inside our home and apply medicinal herbs to its wounds. He would gently pat and stroke it with affection. Watching all this my heart would swell with pride.
But all his efforts to protect our cattle fell short eventually. The tigers, wolves and hyenas continuously kept harassing Gokul. To top that, now there was shortage of fodder for our cattle in the nearby meadows. At least for a whole year we would have to leave the meadows untouched. Yes, we had to leave our beloved Gokul behind to find another place. We had to set up another Gokul someplace else. Our usual abode was to be abandoned for the time being. This was the first instance in my life to leave a place very dear to my heart.
For that purpose, a meeting was called under father’s leadership. The matter was discussed from all angles. A plan to take care of the people, assets and houses to be left behind was decided upon. For an entire week, a few knowledgeable adults surveyed some places and finalized a location for new settlement. Everybody asked me to suggest a nice, suitable name for the new place. This area was packed with small forests or ‘vanas’. It was like a team of forests. So, I named it ‘Vrindavana’. They all loved it. A few adults went ahead to build a wooden protective fence around Vrindavana. On an auspicious day chosen by the priests a caravan of bullock carts left for Vrindavana from the eastern gates of Gokul. The carts were packed with earthen pots, jars, stone mortars, tethers, slings, baskets for the cocks and hens, lezim, bundles of clothes and chests.
As the clan leader’s family our family left after everybody else. I was about twelve years old, and dada was probably a year older than me. Thorali lovingly held my left hand, and Dhakali held dada’s. Our eldest kaku carried young ‘Eka’. Behind us were Nandababa who was supporting grandfather, all our kakas who were always ready to help him, our kakus, cousins, and the family priest. We, the gopas of the Abhirbhanu family were leaving for a new place, towards new life, from Gokul to Vrindavan!
Vrindavana! Doesn’t everyone cherish their own Vrindavana of sentiments in their heart? But this Vrindavana of mine was special and unique. How should I describe it? It was one of a kind. The houses, streets, our residence — everything here was an exact replica of Gokul. Our residence had four large sections covered with a wild-grass roof. Even here, there was a temple of Lord Shiva and a gymnasium. Madhubana, a thick forest full of flora and fauna was located on the western side of Vrindavana. There were many smaller forests, Aamravana, Ketakavana, Kinkaravana, Champakavana and others near it. Even here thick, lush green meadows were located right outside the main protective fence, surrounded by the graceful crescent-shaped Yamuna.
Vrindavana was like a jade embedded in the lap of natural beauty. Many orchards of Champak, Jamun, Audumbara, Aamra, Saga and Kadamba had spread around here. These resonated with the chirping of various birds like Bharadwaja, Chataka, Chandola, Kokila and Mayura. In some places, wild springs with crystal clear water flowed gently and in other places torrents of small and big waterfalls collapsed with cascading water. Dada and I learnt how to stay afloat in one place with our heads above water, right under the pouring torrents of the waterfalls. This practice made us realize the intensity of the force of water. The sky above was cerulean, tinged with peacock feather colours.
The most beautiful gift of nature bestowed on Vrindavana was located on the eastern side. There was an enormous Banyan tree near the meadows on the other side of the protective fence. It had hundreds of lush green branches sprawling around. It had such a huge trunk that even if seven-eight gopas tried to hug it holding each other’s hands it wouldn’t fit in their embrace.
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sp; Even before our arrival in Vrindavana this tree was known as ‘Bhandirvriksha’ to the populace of Vrajabhumi. Its renown had spread all over the eighteen colonies of gopas. It looked like an eminent personality or a guardian angel. The Gopas of Vraja always talked about it with great respect. They considered it like an elderly founding father of the family. A towering mountain with its sky-scraping peaks spread out horizontally beyond that tree. All Gokuls of Vrajabhumi called it ‘Indraparvata’, Indra’s mountain. A huge image of Indra was erected in a grand, elevated stone temple, located on the highest peak of the mountain. Huge stones were carved in shapes of clouds at his feet to show his authority as the Lord of the sky. Every year before the monsoon a big festival, ‘Indrotsava’, was organized on that mountain. Nobody had ever actually seen Indra, who stayed somewhere on the mountain. But everybody was in awe of him, only because of the deep-rooted notion held by generations together.
This year also a council was held before the onset of monsoon to discuss the preparations for the festival on the Indraparvat. It lasted for a long time. Father, grandfather, all kakas, and some elderly gopas of Vrindavana, all expressed their views. Everybody was on the same page, discussing how well dressed all should be for the festival, and how many decorated earthen pots of milk, curds, and ghee should be offered as a levy to Indra. I heard all the opinions quietly and spoke in the end. It was the first difficult time in my life to oppose all the elders vehemently. I declared firmly, “No one is going to pay any levy to Indra henceforth! Who is this Indra? Why should we live in his dread? We are not going to celebrate this festival any more. I am going to make this mountain open to all the gopas of Vrajabhumi. If you all want to go, go without me. Go ahead, and ignore me. But I am not coming, no matter what.”
Srikrishna- the Lord of the Universe Page 5