KRISHNA CORIOLIS#6: Fortress of Dwarka

by Ashok K. Banker

  “‘Great ones,’ I said to the Devas. ‘As you so wisely stated, I already possess all that any mortal could desire: a rich and bountiful kingdom, a beautiful wife, fine daughters and sons, loving kinsfolk, wise ministers and advisers, loyal citizens…I ask only that I be permitted to return home to them to live out the rest of my days in peaceful occupation. That is boon enough for me. For a man who is content should know well enough not to desire anything further. Contentment is itself the greatest boon of all.’”

  “Thus saying, I bowed to the Devas reverentially and awaited their benevolence. But they appeared sad and forlorn, exchanging mournful glances amongst their number. Finally, they spoke again unto me, saying ‘Oh, beloved Mukucunda, in your contentment lies an age of wisdom. Would that we could grant you this request. Sadly, your service on our behalf has kept you away from mortal affairs for far longer than a mortal lifetime. Many generations have passed since you left your fine kingdom, beautiful queens and excellent kinsfolk. Not one of them remain alive today. Not only that, even your descendents have merged into other tribes and nations, and your lineage itself is lost in the annals of history. You have every right to return to your homeland, but know that if you do so, you will find nothing familiar. Language, dress, customs, practices, all have been altered immeasurably by the passage of time. The world you would return to would be a wholly different world from the one you left when you came to serve us.”

  Mukucunda’s heart was struck a blow by this revelation. In all the centuries he had been waging war on behalf of the Devas, in all the battles and skirmishes and conflicts, he had sustained wounds and injuries, felt pain and anguish countless times. But no wound, no pain, no suffering of war could match the agony of knowing that the very life he loved had vanished with time. A soldier sustains himself through the bitter winter of warfare on the heat of memories: take away his memories, you take away all hope, all reason for waging war itself. What would he be fighting for? What purpose remains in his life? Other lesser warriors might have raged and ranted, lost their heads and cursed the Devas for costing him his entire life. But Mukucunda son of Yuvanasva was a paragon of kshatriya dharma.

  “‘So be it,’” he said, absorbing the shock of this revelation as a soldier on the field accepts an arrow and continues fighting regardless, “‘Kshatriya dharma demands that the moment a warrior sets forth on a campaign, he consider his life already forfeit. The moment I took up my sword and bow to serve you, Lords, I had already surrendered my life. It matters not now if it is gone. This is what it means to be a warrior. I am kshatriya. I endure all.’”

  Mukucunda paused, gazing in awe at the great aspect of the Smiling Stranger in the cave, his luminescence illuminating every crack and crevice as if the very atoms of the rock themselves glowed in response to his brahman blaze. “‘Then I asked the Devas to grant me the final boon any kshatriya can enjoy: release from mortality. But they declined, saying that only one amongst them possessed the power to grant that boon. His name was Bhagwan, the indestructible Vishnu, and he was not amongst them at that time but if someday, it was my good fortune, he would come before me and if I still desired, I could ask him my wish once again.’”

  “Then the Devas asked me to name any other boon. I said that I could not think of anything I desired anymore. All I wished for was to be able to rest peacefully in slumber for an age, or many ages, as the case might be. For I was exhausted from an eon of waging war and wreaking slaughter and further exhausted by the loss of everyone and everything I had once held dear. So I wanted nothing more than to sleep a great while, undisturbed, for a soldier’s sleep is as a dog’s sleep: the slightest unfamiliar sound or disturbance rouses him to full action instantly. I desired the sleep of the just and the meek, the sleep of peace and infants. The slumber of eternity. If I could not sleep the Great Sleep, then at least I would sleep until my time was ordained and great Vishnu himself came to grant me my final boon of release.”

  Mukucunda gestured around the cave. “And so I chose this cavern to isolate myself from all mortalkind, wanting nothing more to do with their lives and ways. The Devas promised that I would not be disturbed for so long as I slept for no mortal had any reason to come to these remote and inscrutable ranges and even if they did, surely no man could find this grotto among many millions of such caves in these mountains, nor would they have reason to search for it. But even if some accidentally ventured here, my store of tapas energy would be more than sufficient to blast him to ashes instantly. This is what happened to the fool who came here earlier, assaulting me in my divinely granted slumber. I have despatched him without care or thought to his purpose or identity. He does not concern me in the least because from the manner in which he assaulted me and from his bearing and weapons and garb he was clearly a mortal warrior of some kind. I know not his purpose in coming here and care not to know. But you, great one, who have arrived here and now reveal yourself in this resplendent manner, you are another level of being altogether. I know this beyond any doubt. Pray tell me, what manner of Deva are you? Surely you are a warrior of great prowess? I request you, tell me your deeds. Grant me the honor of knowing thy name. Do me the grace of sharing thy conquests and exploits with me, to please a humble warrior who once served your cause. It would bring me great pleasure to know these things.”

  And Mukucunda bowed his head and waited for a response.

  12

  The Shining One spoke at last, yet his speech was not normal human speech, his message was conveyed through a pulsing of his blue aura, a reverberation that filled the senses and was translated by the mind into words effortlessly. For this was the speech of gods and the instant Mukucunda felt the pulsing of the brahman aura, his conviction that he was in the presence of the Supreme One was confirmed. He had lived and warred among the Devas long enough to know it was fact now: This could be no other but Vishnu Ananta in person.

  “Dearest Mukucunda. You are beloved to the Devas for your sacrifice on their behalf. It is for the fruition of your wishes that I have come unto you. I am He whose births, deeds, titles and names cannot be enumerated by mortals, for their tally is infinite. One would sooner count all the particles of dust that have existed upon Prithvi-loka since the beginning of time than count my names, my deeds, my births and forms. Many great rishis and maharishis have attempted to count and list my exploits but even their epic efforts are thwarted because I exist not only in the present, but in the past and the future as well, simultaneously.”

  Mukucunda’s eyes, so long closed in deep hibernation, were wide open and gazing with awe. The blue aura of his Lord’s glory reflected in his large eyes, the image of Krishna reflected in all its beauty within his steely grey pupils. He listened reverentially, knowing that this was a blessed moment in his existence and feeling his release was imminent.

  “I too am a kshatriya in purpose and function. I am the protector of worlds, of all Creation. From time to time, I am requested by Brahma or petitioned by the other Devas to descend to this earthly realm and serve mortalkind by destroying the asuras that have unlawfully brought their conflict with us Devas into this realm. In this lifetime, I am descended into the race of the Yadus, in the house of Anakadundubhi, the one they call Vasudeva. Therefore in this birth, I am named Vasudeva, son of Vasudeva. I was sent here to deal with a multitude of asuras plaguing mortalkind in this age. Kalanemi was the first and among the fiercest of my foes in this birth. I slew him in his form as Kamsa.”

  Images flashed and danced within Mukucunda’s mind’s eye, yet it was as if he were within the images themselves, and the events taking place around him in all dimensions. It was a mesmerizing spectacle. Though a warrior himself, he was awe struck at the prowess of the Lord in this form as Krishna Vasudeva. Through the Lord’s own essence, he was able to relive the Slaying of Kamsa, Putana, Kaliya, and numerous other wondrous events in Krishna’s life to date. Tears sprang from his battle-weary eyes, spilling to the icy cave floor where they froze into jewels of ice. Yet he was filled with t
he fiery heat of tapas and also the energizing warmth of Vishnu’s great brahman effulgence. “Truly, I am blessed to be given your darshan, Lord. It is a lifetime dream fulfilled.” His mortal voice echoed and rang within the stone cavern, for he had no power to project his voice through motes of brahman energy.

  “I know this well, Mukucunda,” said Krishna gently. “I am sustained by the love and devotion of bhaktas such as yourself. How could I not fulfill your life’s ambition to come before me? It is on account of your long and dutiful devotion to my name and image that I appear here before you today. This is that very day of which the Devas spoke when they released you from your service and sent you back to this mortal realm. This is the day when I come before you, faithful servant, and ask of you: Speak. Name your desire. You are still owed a boon as reward for your great sacrifice and service to the cause of Righteousness. You have but to name your desire and it shall be fulfilled.”

  Mukucunda was filled with ecstatic joy. He was realizing the fulfillment of all those eons of war, pain, suffering, and loneliness. He paid due homage to Krishna, performing his ritual duty as a bhakta and taking his heart’s fill of darshan of the Lord, for he knew that such a moment would never repeat again and he was blessed even among the blessed.

  Finally, when he had completed his ritual obeisances and satisfied his spiritual urges, he said, “Oh Lord, the people of my realm are confused by your maya, this world of material pursuits that you created only as a temporary illusion befuddles them and they believe it is the only real world in existence. They seek petty happiness in their narrow domestic ruts but in fact, those daily disciplines are the very source of their unhappiness. The human body is made in your image, yet those who have earned the karmic right to be reborn as mortals fail to appreciate the value of their lives and merely eke out an existence driven by greed, worse than the animals who at least kill and eat to survive. The accumulation of wealth beyond one’s needs, the indulgence of sensual pursuits to the point of self-effacing abandon, pride in treasures of metal and symbolic riches, the arrogance of patriarchy, the lust for more mates, these are all failures of the flesh, as limited in its confines as a pot of mud or a wall of stone. In my past life, before the Devas came to enlist me in their war, I too fell prey to these temptations. I too ignored the mind’s lofty reaches to fall and grovel in greed and need, enslaved by the body’s desires. I was a king and thought myself a god. I was drunk with vanity, intoxicated by power, addicted to luxury.

  “Now, in this moment of supreme revelation, I realize my folly. Your radiance has erased the shadows that blinded my eyes. I am no longer deluded, nor do I hanker after sensory objects. I see now that the former Me, who thought himself a god, was merely a thing destined to become faeces, worms and ashes, clad in gold finery, riding in shielded chariots, jousting with elephants in rut. God among men, I thought myself, yet I was not even a king. Merely a slave. A slave to sexual pleasures. A slave to desire for rich food, fine clothing, glittering baubles, voluptuous concubines. I was no more than a dog on a leash, led around the house by my desires to serve their fulfillment not my own.

  “But now I have been given an opportunity of eons. The cobwebs of my mind have been brushed away. I see clearly now the purpose of my life. You have released me from the burden of flesh, the enslavement of desire, the addiction to power. You have freed me from the cycle of samskara itself. My wandering is ended. I am as fortunate as the most exalted Sadhus who spend a lifetime in the forest in solitude. I have been freed by Achyuta Himself! All mortals will envy me henceforth.”

  Krishna smiled beatifically at Mukucunda, pleased at his words. “Speak, then, dearest Mukucunda. Speak your final wish and it will be granted.”

  13

  Mukucunda prostrated himself and said, “Thanks to your effulgence, I am washed clean of all desire, Lord. As the Gangotri produces crystal-clear water of the highest purity, I too have been distilled, my attachments leached out of me by the power of your presence. The gunas of sattva, tamas and rajas which had accumulated from my time on the mortal plane have been removed from me, for you are the primordial one, free of all gunas, without taint or duality, monastic in your knowledge, supreme in purity. I wish nothing more than to be free of earthly miseries. I touch now your lotus feet and beg for shelter, Lord. Hear my distress, hear my plea.”

  And as Mukucunda touched Krishna’s feet, Krishna bent and blessed him, raising him up. “Mukucunda, once you were a king among men. Now you are an emperor of great souls. You have resisted all the temptations of the six senses, enemies of all fleshly beings, and through your bhakta have seen fit to ask for the perfect boon. I give you leave now to roam the earth freely. Go where you will, you will be unharmed and unsinged. No desire will trouble you, no peril befall you. Wander in the great forests and practice pranayama, or ascend the highest peaks and sit in profound meditation, as you wish. You go with my hand sheltering you always. Absolve yourself of the sin of the kshatriya: cleanse yourself of the crimes of slaughter and violence, of life-taking and butchery. And when your days are done of their natural course, you will ascend to Swargaloka as is ordained and in your next birth shall return not only as a man, as you deserve through your righteous karma, but as a brahmana in my service. Thus shall the cycle of devotion and fulfillment be ever perpetrated: as devotee becomes priest and bhakta spans lifetimes. Go now, Mukucunda, go in peace.”

  And with those blessed words, Krishna anointed Mukucunda with his sacred touch and permitted the great warrior of the gods to leave the grotto that had been his home for countless years. Circumambulating Krishna, Mukucunda departed with joined palms and a glad heart.

  ***

  Mukucunda emerged from the cave and proceeded down the mountainside. He observed as he went that plants, animals, trees, and all things upon earth had diminished in size and beauty. In contrast, he was as a giant among men. Walking through places where people dwelled, and stared at by them while also gazing curiously at the denizens he passed, he puzzled as to how this diminishment of stature had occurred. Finally, he realized that a greater length of time must have passed while he fought for the Devas and later lay within the cave. So great a length that entire eons had changed and it was now Kali-Yuga.

  Accepting this reality, he proceeded in a northward direction. Other men might have wandered for awhile, taking in sights and sounds, relishing the return to civilization, drinking in human company as one drinks soma. But Mukucunda’s heart and mind and soul were filled wholly with his Lord’s divinity. He desired nothing more than to ascend directly to the next life. His steps were firm and assured, his pathway distinct.

  In due course, he found himself ascending to Gandhamadana, that holy region. There, he proceeded directly to Badarikashram, where he settled, absorbing himself in the undertaking of bhor tapasya, grueling ascetic practices, worshipping Hari in the very homeland of Nara-Narayana itself. His future and further life was thus assured.

  ***

  Krishna descended from the Himavat ranges and gazed out upon the remains of the Yavana army. While the enormous force of fighting troops was extinguished to all but the last handful of men, the great grama train had been spared. This great caravan of wagons followed in the Yavana army’s wake, carrying the serving men and women, dancing girls and entertainers, cooks and weapon-repairers, carpenters and iron-workers that were all indispensable to keeping a traveling army requisitioned and provisioned at all times. Due to their heavy loads, they brought up the far rear, often arriving weeks after the frontlines made camp at a location. As a result, they were still many yojanas from the scene of their army’s destruction and were in fact, not many miles from Mathura itself.

  Krishna whistled and like an eagle falling from the sky, his golden pushpak fell to earth in a near-vertical drop. It plummeted then came to a halt with its sarathi, the good Daruka, as unshaken as if he had merely driven the celestial vehicle from around the nearest field, instead of falling miles from the sky. He greeted his Lord warmly as Krishna climbed
aboard the vaahan.

  “The Yavana army was crushed like ants beneath a boulder,” he said. “I saw it all from above.”

  Krishna nodded and instructed him where to go. As they came within sight of Mathura’s outlands, he told Daruka to slow the golden flying chariot, then indicated the sprinkling of wagons visible from here.

  “The Yavana store train. All their wealth and booty collected on their journey from the Yavana islands, the treasures they wrestled from places on the way, the bounty, the prizes, the ransom, it is all in those wagons. We shall take it all home to Dwarka.”

  Daruka stared. “There must be thousands of wagons, many tens of thousands of tons of treasure!”

  “Exactly,” Krishna said, “I will not leave it for Jarasandha to find and claim. He does not deserve the spoils of this army or any army. That is the only reason why I claim it. Otherwise, I would have not cared if it had been buried in the avalanche that destroyed the Yavana army.”