As we quickly dodged the first attack of the elephant a round of applause followed. Dada instantly moved towards the straight, tiny tail of that enormous beast. I scurried towards his trunk. Like two lightning bolts we emphatically collided with that intoxicated, haughty and powerful elephant. Hurtling his big neck in jerky motions and lashing his trunk around, the huge elephant consistently let out terrifying, deafening cries of chiii chiii… Everybody around us just kept staring, dumbfounded.
We had unwittingly divided the elephant into two parts and took charge of each. With a nimble move I dodged the trunk of the elephant and went underneath his belly. Holding his tail like a rope Dada leaped onto his back. Within moments he reached the musth elephant’s temples and attacked his mahout. Within a few moments of tussle mighty Dada picked up the mahout along with his goad and hurled him down.
I slipped through the gap of the bulky animal’s front legs and stood directly in front of his trunk. Predicting his impending movements unmistakably by a direct look into his fiery red, crazy eyes, I began dodging his movements with agility. I provoked him with challenging gestures. Now the elephant was completely under our control. By this time dada landed on the ground and picked up the goad. The frightened mahout had already fled. Dada constantly pricked the elephant with the goad from behind and I dodged him from the front making him spin around himself. This thrilling game of gyrations went on for quite some time. It was our most favourite wrestling manoeuvre, ‘Abhyakarsha’, mastered under Pranakaka’s guidance.
Now the elephant couldn’t figure out which way to turn. The Maireyaka drink coupled with the constant circular motion went right to the elephant’s head. The elephant gradually got dizzier and collapsed. His terrifying shrieks were sending clouds of dust in the air. Immediately, I moved closer to his trunk and with a single jerk, wrenched out his arm-long, curvy, white tusk, shouting ‘Victory to goddess Ida’. Streams of blood spurted out. The silver bracelet that grandfather had put on my wrist, got doused in elephant blood. My vermilion-smeared yellow dhoti also got drenched in the elephant’s blood. Using his tusk like a sharp weapon I briskly kept striking blow after blow on his musth temples. Meanwhile dada did not leave a single spot on his body that was not pricked with the goad. Both of us were completely drenched in sweat and blood.
The first assailant sent by Kansa, the royal elephant Kuvalayapida, finally died in despair, shrilling and sissing with his legs stretched out. One powerful centre of energy was wiped out. The suppressed, benumbed Yadavas around us hurled their turbans in the air. With continuous applause, they fearlessly shouted spontaneous slogans of victory, “Down with Kuvalayapida, he is dead! Victory to Krishna-Balarama...victory... victory!” Hearing the electrifying slogans, the Yadava crowd waiting outside became uncontrollable and ferociously broke in through the huge gates of the royal palace like a torrent of water.
Near the royal altar located at a distance, Kansa, the king of Mathura rose from the royal throne at once and stood erect. His body was trembling in rage, his bushy eyebrows were twisted weirdly and his eyes were breathing fire. He loudly roared, “Minister! Present those boorish gopas for the Dhanuryaga! Bring them into the pit.”
Right in front of his royal altar was the spacious wrestling pit with red soil, fenced with thick ropes tied to Kikar wood pillars. A bow garlanded with flowers was placed in the centre, on a soft, shiny brocade fabric with designs of vines and creepers.
Kansa’s minister Vipruthu came closer to us and commanded in a rowdy voice, “Come on now, and show us your archery skills!” Thumping our arms Balaramadada and I entered the wrestling pit.
Dada was credulous. He went closer to the bow and started examining it intently! But I stood right next to him, cautiously keeping a close watch all around us. I knew well that the Dhanuryaga was merely a deception. Suddenly we heard a loud thumping of arms around us. Two hefty, muscular royal wrestlers descended in the wrestling pit with their dhotis tucked in.
One of them was Chanura, and the other was Mushtika! Thumping on their thighs loudly, raising both their arms while dancing they shouted loudly, “Hail Maharaja Kansa, the king of Mathura, the invincible great wrestler, victory to him!” A mere look at them spread chilling terror.
Dada was also ready now. Chanura picked up the fabric in the centre of the pit, along with the bow. Glancing viciously at me, he let out a dreadful laugh and simply tossed it out of the pit. Hurling fistfuls of soil on us Chanura collided with me and Mushtika approached dada. The royal kettle-drums strategically kept in various places in the big hall started booming now. Frightening commotion prevailed in the arena.
Chanura struck me near my ear. That first punch itself made sparks fly in front of my eyes. At that moment Kelinandakaka’s wrestling tips flashed in my mind. His words echoed, “The moment you hit your rival with such a powerful blow you will become a true wrestler!” Instantly my blood flared like corn grains on burning embers.
Now the wrestler in front of me seemed like the earlier elephant, just like a trifling pile of flesh! In a moment, a lustrous brilliance circled around my body. My rival couldn’t figure out where I was standing; in front of him, behind him or on his side! Was I striking him on his cheek or on his back! I used a variety of wrestling maneuvres and kept throwing him down, toppling him like rolling a big rock over with a small crowbar. Exhausted, he fell on his back. Planting my knee on his thick neck I crushed him with all my might. As my rival lay exhausted I pulled out my final weapon– the ‘Bahukantaka’ maneuver. Putting my arm tightly around his throat, I clasped his neck in my firm grip. His tongue out of his mouth, his eyes circling frantically, vomiting blood, he struggled violently to get rid of my grasp. I wasn’t going to give him that chance. It was the ultimate life-threatening maneuver of wrestling – the ‘Bahukantaka’! Bahukantaka was like the thorny hold of Death itself, fastened tightly around the neck of your rival!
The more he struggled to free himself the tighter my hold became around his neck. Unable to free himself from my clutches, ultimately his body went limp and Kansa’s giant wrestler succumbed to death. There dada had also killed Mushtika in the same manner.
Now the ecstatic Yadavas were beside themselves. Applauding continuously and tossing their shawls and turbans in the air, they shouted continuously, “Hail Krishna-Balarama... victory...victory!’ and rushed into the wrestling pit. Kansa, who was standing on the royal altar shaking frantically with anger, roared loudly, “What are you looking at? Minister …, commander …, Anadhrishti … let Toshalaka and Kuta deal with those boorish gopas! Send Shala and Kaushala too.” His brother, Sunama tried to console him, “Let me get rid of that elder gopa.”
Immediately Toshalaka and Kuta from one side and Sunama, Shala and Kaushala from the other entered the wrestling pit to attack us! The armed attendants drove the crowd out of the pit. The walls of the hall echoed with the loud sounds of the wrestlers thumping on their thighs. Without giving us a chance to take a breather, the next lot of hefty, vigorous wrestlers fell upon us at once. Toshalaka and Kuta clashed with me; Sunama, Shala and Kaushala tussled with dada. The royal servants had already removed the dead bodies of Chanura and Mushtika from the wrestling pit.
Compared to the massive wrestlers like Toshalaka and Kuta I was like an insignificant, tiny hill standing in front of the twin peaks of Mount Govardhan. Sunama, who was fighting with dada was in fact Kansa’s dear brother, a royal wrestler. He was accompanied by Shala and Kaushala. Yet, we both didn’t feel any pressure of the size or the number of wrestlers standing in front of us. Our bodies were no longer human; they had in fact transformed into vivacious flames of energy touching the sky!
As a customary practice, we offered the red soil in the pit to each other. Then I fought alternately with Toshalaka and Kuta. I quickly started grabbing their thick, heavy necks in my tight grip with agility. On the other hand, dada was also ferociously wrestling alone, with the other three.
Only one person was cautiously staring at us, standing on the royal altar,
watching our every move carefully. The tyrant king of the Yadavas – my mama – insolent Kansa!
Though dada and I were sweating profusely, our agility was not at all affected. We astutely used the slippery sweat to our advantage to dodge our rival’s moves and make them bite the dust. Though massive in size Toshalaka, Sunama and their companions could not deal with our deceptive, agile moves and rapidly collapsed. Seeing their downfall, the exuberant Yadavas started throwing spontaneous encouragements our way, “Pull that vile man under your thighs, don’t let go of him!” Ear-splitting, spontaneous, ecstatic cries resonated in the air.
Our final neck to neck struggle lasted for a good half an hour. Finally, dada and I pulled out our ultimate weapon – the Bahukantaka maneuver! I used it on Toshalaka and Kuta, and dada on Sunama, Shala and Kaushala. We eliminated the five of them one by one.
The Yadavas started shouting unceasing, ear-splitting slogans of victory now, “Krishna, Rama victory...victory, Rama, Krishna victory…victory.” In all the commotion, someone let out a provocative cry, “To hell with the devil Kansa! Get rid of the devil, get rid of him!”
By that time I had leapt from the wrestling pit and stood erect in front of the royal altar of Kansa, the self-declared, all-powerful, unjust and tyrant king of the Shursena kingdom. Thousands of Yadavas of Mathura were still condemning him, shouting at the top of their lungs. Even the stone walls were thrilled to hear the ear-splitting slogans.
My eyes, with the power to destroy sin, burn evil, and shatter lies directly met the eyes of Kansa – my tall, hefty mama trembling in front of the royal altar. I recognized the fear in his eyes. He realized that he was facing his death. This time he was trembling, not with anger but with fear for his life! In a moment, his fiery red eyes turned dark with fear. This was the moment to uproot injustice! The Moment to emancipate innumerable repressed lives and give them a chance to breathe freely!
A completely novel, unknown calling of my own spirit resonated in my ears; it was calling to me, “Krishna! Go ahead, proceed! You were born for this purpose only. To crush injustice under your feet! To uphold justice on your shoulders. Always remember that growth and progress are the only signs of life. Remove this obstacle which is hindering the progressive flow of life.
You cannot afford to consider blood relations now. Neither are you Kansa’s bhacha nor is he your mama. Kansa is not at all related to you. Don’t get carried away by blood relations at this moment. Uprooting injustice and upholding the cause of justice is the only mission of your life!”
The epitome of injustice belonging to the Yadoo dynasty and the massive Sin incarnate of the Shursena kingdom stood in front of the royal altar – trembling with fear for his life.
With a heart full of tremendous confidence and a spine so strong that it could bear the weight of the sky, I briskly climbed the stairs of the royal altar in front of me. In a single leap, I directly collided with Kansa. Fear-struck, he gawked at me with his eyes wide open, totally terrified, lustreless, and weak. I gave his hand such a strong jerk that he instantly rolled down the stairs and landed on his back. His golden crown tumbled down the stairs and rolled away with a clank. His thick, rough hair got dishevelled.
His cruel, muscular, hairy arms that had crushed my six new-born brothers on a boulder, why were they so feeble today? The reason was obvious. A mighty powerful Sin when it faces its own end, becomes fragile. It automatically loses its character.
From the altar I leaped on him like a lightning bolt and mounted myself on his insolent, plump chest; as if a cheetah had mounted on the chest of Kuvalayapida’s master. Clutching his thick, rough hair tightly in my left fist, I pulled his impudent neck up and slammed it rapidly on the stairs seven-eight times. After that, my eyes enlarged with rage, I shouted, “Take this, you traitor of the Yadava dynasty”, and punched a heavy blow on his chest with my right fist, adorned with the silver bracelet.
Repeatedly slamming his head I struck him with heavy blows. With each strike, words spilled out of my mouth inadvertently, “This one is for killing my first brother – hail goddess Idamata – this for the second – this one for the third – hail Devakimata – this one for the ruthless torture you inflicted on my mother – this one for insulting my father – this one for driving the Yadava families out of Mathura. Hail Idamata... victory to her!” Strike after strike – a fountain of his vicious blood was spurting out with each powerful strike! My yellow dhoti was getting doused in his blood! His audacious, helpless chest was being torn apart!
The hysterical Yadavas of Mathura started shouting encouragements rhythmically, “First one, second one” with passionate gestures in the air as if they themselves were sitting on Kansa’s chest, and were killing the vicious, unjust king of Mathura.
Kansa was struggling hard to kick and overthrow me. The grip of my thighs got tighter, like an alligator’s grip! My arms and fists had become incredibly strong. Kansa’s forehead was all sweaty now, his thick eyebrows were stretched weirdly. Vomiting blood he whimpered continuously. Finally, he met a gruesome death and lay motionless. An unjust, vicious, ferocious royal storm whirling in Mathura in the form of his rule for so many years had finally abated.
Kansa’s eight brothers were hesitant at first, but soon rushed towards me with frenzied fury. Dada confronted them even before they could reach me and held them captive with the aid of the enraged Yadavas.
The Dhanuryaga ceremony orchestrated by Kansa and his counsellors was over. Hearts overflowing with success and love, the jubilant Yadavas picked up dada and me on their shoulders. With loud gestures, they proclaimed at the top of their lungs, “Hail the king of Yadavas, Krishna-Balarama – victory to them.” Giving out joyous cries they carried us closer to the royal altar. Raising both my hands I addressed them, “Calm down, my dear Yadava brothers of Mathura!” Their clamour going on for more than an hour ceased instantaneously. In that moment, I realized intensely that a divine voice resided deep down in my throat. Whenever it manifested hundreds and thousands were compelled to listen in silence. I had found the purpose of my life!
Standing near the royal altar, on dada’s right side, I glanced around and said slowly, “Mathura is liberated from Kansa’s clutches today. She is free and independent now. The Shursena kingdom is free. With your continued support, much more will be rescued and freed. With your blessings, I am going to visit my parents at their mansion and free them from years of captivity. I am going to visit the royal prison right now and release Maharaja Ugrasena and Maharani Padmawati also.
Citizens of Mathura, be rest assured that only Maharaja Ugrasena will ascend the royal throne of Mathura again. The royal Chief Minister of Mathura, please present yourself to me immediately.”
My determined words got the assembled Yadavas whispering among themselves. Moving aside, the crowd presented a middle-aged, round-faced, sharp-nosed, bearded, well-built, wheat-complexioned Yadava to me.
He approached fearfully with palms joined in prayer. He was petrified that I was going to order his execution as he had been Kansa’s ally during his reign.
“Your name?” I asked him.
“Vi … Vipruthu!” he stuttered in fear again.
“Don’t be scared, minister. I am not going to penalize you. Be rest assured. You are not at fault in any way. You acted only as an obedient servant of the king, as a minister always should. Discern from this moment that, Kansa’s reign here is over. Soon the reign of the Yadava commander Maharaja Ugrasena will commence for the wellbeing of the people. Therefore, make the necessary arrangements for his coronation in accordance with the Shastras.”
Terrified Vipruthu was relieved by this unexpected impunity. He composed himself and said, “As you wish, Lord! I will never forget that you have spared my life. Any other task for me?”
“Minister, many families of the Yadava dynasty – the Vrishnis, the Andhakas, the Bhojas, the Dasharnas, the Kukuras and the Satvatas – had fled Mathura during Kansa’s tyrannical reign. Invite all of them back to Mathura immediately,
with due respect. Assist in their rehabilitation, and reinstate their wealth and land confiscated by Kansa, with precise assessment.”
“As you wish, my Lord!” the minister responded.
“Vipruthu, henceforth I am going to need your assistance in all respects. Get the royal priest to perform the formal cremation of the wasted ‘arrows’ of today’s Dhanuryaga and Toshalaka, Mushtika, Sunama, Chanura and Kuta. And don’t forget to cremate the royal elephant Kuvalayapida formally beside them.
Give Kansa a formal cremation with the rituals befitting a member of the royal family, on a sandalwood funeral pyre near the banks of Yamuna. As our ancient adage goes, enmity is over with death. Tell me the name of the commander of the army here, and get him here immediately.”
“As you wish. The Yadava commander is Anadhrishti. He is your kaka.” The royal minister beckoned Anadhrishti towards the royal altar. Hefty, broad-shouldered, tall, dark, long-faced, bearded, sharp-nosed, dauntless Anadhrishti came forward. He was wearing an iron armour. I asked him, “What should I call you? Anadhrishtikaka or commander?”
“All Yadavas call me ‘Yadavashreshtha’. I would appreciate if you call me the same.” He replied fearlessly.
“It is a mission of major responsibility. Your courage as well as expertise will be required! You are to cautiously dispatch both wives of Kansa – my mamis – Astidevi and Praptidevi to Girivraja, the capital of Magadha, their father’s country. Take a troop of armed riders with you for assistance. Leave immediately after the final rites are performed. Both of them are not safe here, amongst the foes that their husband has created during his lifetime.
Srikrishna- the Lord of the Universe Page 8