Father came to our room. He was scared to death. We were half asleep. He woke us up and took us to Akrurakaka. Akrurakaka looked me in the eyes and started speaking.
The very first Yadava we had seen so far started speaking in a deep voice. His words flew like sparks of fire. I had never experienced such emotional turmoil before in my life, which I experienced in that one night. All my questions were being answered rapidly, but they were disclosing a very strange and twisted truth! “Krishna and Balarama, listen carefully and calmly to what I tell you. Both of you are the sons of the venerable Yadava Maharaja Vasudeva and Maharani Devakidevi! Under the pretext of Dhanuryaga you will have to face fatal assaults tomorrow. Though you are invited to this Yajna as a Yadava, it is not as an ally, but as an enemy!
“Krishna! Son, he has even imprisoned his own parents to seek control of the kingdom. He got terrified and went berserk when he heard the divine utterance from heaven during your mother’s wedding ceremony. He is the one who has also held your parents captive. Krishna, dear son, he has murdered your six new-born brothers born to Devakidevi by smashing their heads on a big boulder! His gruesome slaying of the new-borns has put the entire Yadava clan to shame. Balarama, son, you are the only one who miraculously escaped from his evil clutches. Krishna is your real brother.
“Nandaraja who is a vassal of Vasudeva, assumed this crucial responsibility of caring for the both of you, only after discussing it with him. Nandaraja knows your origin very well, right since your birth!
“Nandaraja, bid farewell to them tomorrow as your duty calls for you to do so. They have served the Abhirbhanu dynasty so far. I am confident that they will serve the Yadu dynasty similarly in future.”
Overcome with emotions he pulled both of us closer to him. His first embrace made me sense many things. His concluding words helped Nandababa to compose himself. We paid our respects to him and said goodbye.
Everyone else in the house was fast asleep that night. Not Nandababa, but Vasudevababa is my real father. He has been held captive in Kansa’s prison for all these years. Kansa is my mother’s chulat bandhu – my mama – and yet he gruesomely murdered my six new-born brothers, right in front of my mother. In fact, any mama should love his bhacha. It is only natural. Then, in spite of being our mama, why was he hell bent on destroying us? One reason was the chilling divine utterance from Heaven that he had heard – ‘The eighth born son of Devaki will destroy you!’ The other reason was simply greed for the royal throne. He imprisoned his own parents, the King and Queen of the Yadavas, and banished the eighteen families of the Yadava clan from the kingdom for the same purpose. I am also a Yadava! Kansa – the evil, unjust king of Mathura is my mama. What kind of mama is he? He is mighty and arrogant due to his power. He has invited us to Mathura only to assassinate us. Why is he afraid of us? Just because of the divine utterance he heard from Heaven! He has taken it into his head that I, the eighth son of Devaki, Kanhaiya of the gopas, Krishna of the Yadavas is going to be responsible for his death. I am going to kill him.
How do they look — my father Vasudevababa, Devakimata, Maharaja Ugrasena, the king of Yadavas, his queen Padmavatidevi?
Tomorrow, we have to leave for Mathura. Kansa is going to attack us in the pandal of the ‘Dhanuryaga’, with intoxicated elephants and wrestlers. Should I surrender? Or should I be the victim like the six before? Nooo! Never!! I – I am the Murlidhar of the gopas, the Krishna of the Yadavas, the one who never deters from his word – I will never stop, until I destroy Kansa. Kansa? Let me see what kind of a man he is. What kind of a toxic creeper is this?
‘Aum HiraNmayen Patren l Satyasyapihitam Mukham’…. The inspirational prayer from Rigveda, zipped through my subconscious mind. Instantly my breath calmed down, found its rhythm. It was now abounding with unyielding self-confidence. I fell fast asleep.
The next day dawned. It was the most important day of my life! The day of bidding farewell to Gokul, probably for good! The day to go to Mathura and live there…probably, forever! It was the biggest and most significant turning point of my life.
As usual dada and I got up and performed our morning ablutions. Somehow, last night itself the news of our departure for Mathura for the ‘Dhanuryaga’ had spread like wildfire in Gokul. The people of Gokul crowded our house in the early morning itself. Pin drop silence prevailed in spite of the crowd. Their faces were drained of colour. From wherever they were, they tried to catch the slightest glimpse of us. I had forewarned dada right after waking up, “Don’t get emotional Balidada, and shed no tears at all! Remember, this is the beginning of a new life. Be with me like my shadow. I desperately need you.”
As per father and grandfather’s instructions we prayed and bowed in front of all the deities of the Abhirbhanu dynasty including Goddess Ida. We were wearing our regular outfits, the yellow and blue silk dhotis. I wore a peacock-feather crown on my head. The new, fresh, thick Vaijayanti garland that
Radha had given me hung around my neck. I did not take my coarse blanket today, just went where it was kept, stroked it gently and cast an affectionate glance on it. I picked up my jingling staff momentarily, and tapped it on the floor to hear an earful of the delicate jingling sound of the tiny bells. Then I gently put it back in the corner. I pulled my flute out from the folds of the blanket and tucked it in the scarf tied around my waist.
Tall and hefty, dada walked ahead. I followed him. Thorali and Dhakali, who would usually come forward to put curds on our palms whenever we left the house, were nowhere to be seen. Both kept weeping in their chamber throughout the night. Their faces were drawn and eyes swollen. They couldn’t even bring themselves out to bid farewell to us. Even Eka who would usually be lingering around us, was not to be seen. Somebody put curds on our palms. Then we ourselves entered our mothers’ room with determination. How much their faces had changed in just one night! Thorali gave out a heart-wrenching cry the moment she saw me, “Krishna…, Kanhaiya… please don’t go to Mathura, the invitation of that devious king is not worth it! Once he grabs you into his clutches…I will never be able to see you again in my life! Finally, Yamuna did succeed in her evil scheme? Kanhaiya, the day you were born I doubted just for a moment that you were not my child. Is that why you are punishing me so severely? Please don’t desert me Kanha!”
She put her arms around my neck and sobbed inconsolably, so much so, that she could barely breathe. My dearest Thorali mata simply kept trembling helplessly, like a delicate creeper trembling in a turbulent storm. I consoled her, patting her on the back, “Shush... Thorale, be calm! Get hold of yourself! Dada was also trying his best to pacify Dhakali. Finally, they both calmed down and regained their composure.
We bowed down and paid respects to both of them. Sobbing Eka stood alone, far in a corner, facing the wall. I calmed her down and handed her over to Thorali. All our kakas, kakus, father and grandfather had gathered outside the room. We bowed down and paid respects to all our kakas and kakus. Everybody was sobbing. We embraced our cousins with love and looked at them for the last time.
In the end we laid ourselves prostrate at the feet of Chitrasena aajoba. The old Kadamba tree of Gokul, more than a hundred years old, trembled from head to toe. He pulled out the silver bracelet from his right hand and put it around my right wrist. Without saying a word, he held me in a tight embrace. With lips surrounded by a bushy mustache he kissed me on my forehead and said in a rough, hoarse voice, “Krishna, son, I have full confidence in Gargamuni. No harm will come to you! I am quite sure that you will grow old, your hair
will also turn gray just like mine! But son, never forget this old man!”
Then we prostrated at the feet of Nandababa and stood erect in front of him with a determined mind and an unwavering spirit. Even at this moment my dear Nandababa was just as strong as I had always surmised. First, he pulled both of us close and held us in an eager embrace. Then he put his hands on our heads, and while blessing us with moist eyes he said, “Dear sons, I wouldn’t mind it if you forget me, but never
forget the gopas and gopis here, and the cows that provided you with plenty of milk. As a gift from the gopa clan I am going to present both of you with two weapons. Always take good care of them. May you always succeed in life, and make both Abhirbhanu and Yadu dynasties proud by bringing greatest acclaim to them!” A gopa attendant stood next to him, holding a tray in his hands. Father picked up a sword from the tray, touched it to his head and gave it to me saying, “This is my ‘Nandaka’ sword for you, Krishna.” Another attendant was holding a tall, black, polished pestle of rosewood in his hands. Giving it to dada father said, “May this pestle of the gopas protect the Yadavas! It is called ‘Saunand’. Balarama, this is for you.” Accepting the weapons, we both touched them to our heads and gave them back to the attendants. Those were then dispatched to the chariot of Akrurakaka.
In the meeting square of our home Akrurakaka was waiting for us. The entire square was packed with a crowd of sentimental gopa-gopis. Glancing disdainfully at Akrurakaka quite a few people whispered amongst themselves, “He doesn’t look like ‘Akrura’– the Merciful – in the least. Looks like the most merciless, vile creature!” Even the courtyard of our residence was over crowded. As soon as Akrurakaka, our despondent family, Balaramadada, and I came outside, muffled sounds of suppressed sobs filled the atmosphere from all sides.
I turned back to take a final look at the ancient structure of the Abhirbhanu dynasty. I brought my palms together in prayer and paid obeisance to it.
I turned to go towards Yamuna. She was standing right in front of me, my beloved sakhi Radha! Radha, the soul yearning for Moksha! She stood still like a statue, but tears started streaming down her face. She looked totally lost and her eyes were devoid of emotions. And yes, her husband Rayana also stood behind her, sobbing, and completely shaken.
Captivated, I stood in front of Radha. Lifting up the Vaijayanti garland slightly I said to her, “Radha, I will never forget this loving gift of yours! I am also going to give you a gift of my love today. You will never be able to forget it. Here, take this.” I pulled out my favourite flute from the shawl around my waist and held it in front of her. The same flute that was so dear to my heart, the melody of which resonated in the atmosphere of Gokul and Vrindavan. Taking it in her hands, as she put it on her lips, her body trembled and she started sobbing. While she was sobbing, ‘Kanhaiya, Kanhaiya’, I gently patted Rayana’s shoulders and went forward. Following Akrurakaka, we advanced towards Yamuna, breaking the circles of sobbing gopa-gopis who were falling at our feet. But now the crowd of disheartened, grieving, young and old gopas and gopis started following us. They cried out loud, ‘Oh Krishna-Rama…, Kanhaiya-Balarama …please don’t leave Gokul, don’t leave us! If you go now we will never be able to see you again! Dear ones, please don’t be so indifferent. Krishna-Balarama, please don’t go.’
We came out of the western gates of Gokul. Akrurakaka’s charioteer Ashwadamana had kept the chariot ready. First, Akrurakaka boarded the chariot, then dada and finally, I climbed in. As the charioteer cracked his whip, the alert, dark black horses harnessed to the chariot lifted up their front hooves, sprinted forward, and neighed. The life-chariot of two gopas started its journey towards Mathura, the Yadava capital.
I glanced back. Near the western gates of Gokul Yashodama had passed out and Nandababa was trying to revive her, while trying to regain his own composure. A lot of gopas and gopis were wailing loudly, throwing their hands skywards and beating their chests. All my grown-up friends – Bhadrasena, Rudrasena, Sridama, Stokakrishna, Damana, Pendya, and Varuthapa were among them. My eight kakas and kakus, and my cousins were also there. All the gopa men and women with whom I had some kind of loving relation, all of them were there. Not having heard the melody of my flute since morning many disconcerted cows were mooing and wandering around them. Even they were shedding tears today. The chariot kept trotting towards Yamuna, leaving so much behind! Only a keen observer could have noticed that the two intoxicated bulls on the wooden gates, ready to attack each other, also seemed to be leaning on each other and shedding tears as the gates closed.
I turned my back with a strong resolve. Gokul was being left behind. Vrindavan, Madhuvan, and Govardhan, everything was left further behind. Our home, along with aajoba, baba, both matas and our chulat bandhu, bhaginis – all was left behind. All the gopas along with the cattle were left behind. And yes, all my aliases such as Murlidhara, Shyam, Mohana, Govinda, Damodara, Gopala, Madhava, and Milinda were also left behind. Krishna, the Yadava leader was now going to enter the Rasa-arena of real life.
I stepped on the land of Mathura, the capital city of the Shursena kingdom, along with dada, with Akrurakaka leading us. On the other side of Yamuna only one Yadava was waiting to welcome me with a thick garland of fresh, fully blossomed, scarlet-coloured Kadamba flowers. He was a bit younger to me. The moment he saw me, he excitedly ran towards me crunching the sand under his feet. With sparkling eyes, he promptly put the Kadamba garland around my neck. Kneeling in the sand he rested his head on my feet with utter devoutness and said effusively, “Dada, do you recognize this young brother of yours?” Holding both his shoulders I tenderly pulled him up. I gazed deep into his loving, clear eyes as Akrurakaka introduced him, “Krishna, this is Uddhava, your cousin! He is the son of Vasudeva’s brother Devabhaga and Kansadevi! He has two more brothers, Chitraketu and Brihadbala.” We had already recognized each other – right when our eyes met, like we knew each other from our previous lives and we were going to know each other for many more lives to come. Ut - Dhava - means the holy fire of a Yajna – the flame of life that always keeps rising.
I called to him, “Uddhava…! Udho!! Dear brother!!!” and embraced him tight, close to my chest. Now onwards my life was going to be full of inexplicable emotional ties with Udho! He was going to be the keeper of my sentiments, my confidant. Dada and I started walking on the sands of Yamuna along with him. Every single step of ours was leading to the desert of an unknown future.
I had already decided to go on foot to the embellished arena of Dhanuryaga today. Thinking about something I stopped for a moment. Tenderly patting Uddhava’s shoulder I said, “Uddhava, would you do me a favour? Nobody else is suitable for this particular task. You go to Gokul right away, and console Yashodamata, Rohinimata and all the gopas-gopikas suffering the anguish of separation from me. Comfort Radha and Eka just like I would.”
Uddhava looked at me delightedly with bright eyes. Instantly he exclaimed, “As you wish!”
I embraced him. He hesitated momentarily as he walked towards the boat. He was delighted that I had showed such faith in him in our very first meeting by assigning him an important task, but he was also worried for me! I had just seen the pure, selfless love for me in his eyes.
Soon the Yadava capital Madhupuri – Mathura came into sight. The towering gates of the temples of Mathura and the domes of the royal palaces came into sight. As we entered the city, first we came across a flower market. Baskets full of colourful flowers and lot of shops decorated with long colourful garlands could be seen. Bees were fearlessly buzzing around the garlands in search of honey. We moved forward enjoying the displays around us. A florist named ‘Gunaka’ came forward and offered us many garlands and flowers.
Just like the news of Akrurakaka’s arrival had spread in Gokul, the news that Krishna and Balarama from Gokul had arrived in Mathura spread very fast. Thousands of young Yadava warriors marched on the streets with whatever weapons they could get hold of – swords, spears, hatchets, pestles and maces along with flower garlands in their hands. It was no longer possible for Akrurakaka to hold them back. Dada and I were definitely not going to hold them back. We had already decided so last night, back in Gokul itself.
Within moments a torrential crowd of Mathura’s Yadava warriors gathered behind us like the roaring high tide of the sea. They were innocent people, who, for years had been ruthlessly exploited under the unrestrained, tyrannical rule of Kansa. Whatever I had experienced in the last one night, they had suffer
ed their whole lives. Their wrath that had been suppressed so far had erupted today. It was uncontrollable. Hundreds and thousands of oppressed, infuriated Yadavas started shouting at the top of their lungs, “Hail Krishna, Balarama...victory to them...victory!”
Our very first procession in Mathura left the alleys and narrow lanes behind and arrived on the wide royal highway. As dada and I turned back we saw the ocean of roaring, determined, excited Yadava warriors following us. Their foreheads were smeared with vermillion. It looked like a whirlwind of blood-red ocean waves rising behind us. By this time both of us were fully doused in vermillion. Even our mothers wouldn’t have been able to tell our original skin tones now! Our bodies did not look like bodies anymore... they were like two blood-red sceptres smeared in vermilion!
Dada and I were full of confidence when we left Gokul. Looking at the thunderous ocean of thousands of Yadavas oscillating behind us our confidence knew no bounds. Our bodies became as light as peacock feathers. Our minds were full of only courage and indomitable resolve!
With both of us leading, the roaring ocean of infuriated Yadavas collided with the royal palace – the foundation of Kansa’s evil regime. Dada and I had just entered the hall of the Dhanuryaga with indignation, when an uncontrollable and inebriated giant elephant goaded by his mahout ‘Mahamatra’ attacked us at once. Since morning he had been fed the alcohol called ‘Maireyaka’ to intoxicate him. His name was ‘Kuvalayapida’. He gave an awful, terrifying cry – Chiii…chiiii... A few Yadavas, who had somehow managed to enter with us shuddered at the sight of the fiery red eyes of the elephant. They scattered in fear. Dada and I instantly removed the flower garlands around our necks and threw them away. Only the vermilion-smeared Vaijayanti garland remained on my chest. Nobody realized when we tucked our dhotis and got ready to attack. On the other side of the arena, Kansa – the heartless, diabolical, arrogant king of Mathura, our mama, was vaguely visible sitting on the elevated royal seat. Surrounding him were the members of his ministry and other honourable Yadavas. Among them were his eight brothers – Nyagrodha, Kanka, Shanku, Suhu, Rashtrapala, Srishti, Sunama and Tushtimana. Also present were his wives Asti and Prapti, and his sisters Kansavati, Kanka, Shurabhu, Rashtrapalika and Kansa.
Srikrishna- the Lord of the Universe Page 7