KRISHNA CORIOLIS#3: Flute of Vrindavan

by Ashok K. Banker

  He watched the lake, glad that Balarama was being quiet beside him. Balarama-bhaiya could sometimes ask too many questions or talk too much. But he was quiet now.

  Everything seemed normal. Birds landed in the trees and took off. Monkeys chittered and leaped from branch to branch. The fish swam in the lake, creating ripples below the surface. The kraunchya birds hopped slowly from foot to foot, seeking prey. One of the kraunchyas was coming out of the water onto the lake shore. The commotion of the calf demon’s attack had passed and nature had returned to its normal equanimity again.

  Krishna glanced back at the hilltop. The calf demon’s attack had taken place on the other side. He had destroyed it in the second charge, ripping its body to shreds, snapping each length of horn to fragments, then had buried the whole deep within the ground. He had come to the lake afterwards, to slake his thirst and wash the offal off his body. Now, the calf herd grazed peacefully in their usual hillside spot and all seemed well.

  But he knew the demon was close. He could smell it. It smelled closer now, if anything! But where was it? There was nothing but the kraunchya bird on the lake shore before him.

  The crane raised its wings and flapped them once, opening and closing its long beak. It seemed to be complaining to Krishna about the lack of fish.

  Krishna turned to Balarama. ‘We should take the herd back.’

  ‘Already?’ Balarama glanced at the sky. ‘There’s plenty of time yet. The other boys will have finished their chores and will come by to play with us here as usual. They always help us herd the calves back.’

  ‘Don’t argue with me, bhaiya,’ little Krishna said to his brother who was twice as large, tall and wide as he. ‘We should take the herd home now and warn the other children not to come play by the lakeside today. We can always--’

  ‘KRISHNA!’ Balarama yelled.

  Krishna swung around, just in time to see an enormous gaping maw converge upon him. The gigantic maw enfolded him completely, and some giant creature swallowed him whole into its belly.

  ***

  Balarama could barely comprehend what he had seen. One moment there was nothing dangerous in sight. Then suddenly a giant maw was converging on Krishna - and swallowed him up whole! Only now, after it happened, did he see that the thing that swallowed Krishna was the very kraunchya bird that had been on the lake shore nearby. The crane had suddenly come running up the gradually sloping incline of the lakeshore towards where they had been standing, expanding in size as it came. In a trice, it was ten times the size of a normal kraunchya bird. Now the crane loomed above him, thrashing about, its elongated beak shut tightly, emitting peculiar sounds. The other normal kraunchya birds in the lake reacted to the appearance of this abnormal fellow, sending up raucous cries of alarm and distress. One by one they took to the air and flew away, calling out their shock at seeing one of their species behave thusly. Other birds reacted as well, rising in hordes from the trees and nearby thickets and groves, each calling out in their own unique voices, indignantly protesting this unlawful intrusion into their peaceful hamlet.

  Balarama stared up at the enormous crane lurching before him. It appeared to be dancing about, its webbed feet thudding down on the ground as it hopped. One foot landed very close to him and he realized that he ought to get out of its way. But Krishna! The wretched thing had swallowed Krishna! Had he not seen it happen with his own eyes, he would never have believed it. Yet he had been looking directly at his little brother when the cursed crane came bounding up like a dog and swallowed him in its giant beak.

  ‘Balarama!’ cried a chorus of voices. ‘Krishna!’

  He turned just as the children of Gokul came racing over the hill-top. It was the time for them to play until the sun dipped lower and it was time to take the herds home. They came over the rise and started running downhill, waving and yelling at him. He saw their eyes go wide, showing the whites, and their pace slow, their arms cease their waving and their mouths gape open, as they saw what was going on by the lake.

  A giant kraunchya bird hopping about angrily, making bizarre animalistic sounds, while Balarama moved about trying to avoid being crushed by its giant webbed feet.

  The children screamed and yelled, pointing to the giant bird. Yet, despite their horror, they still came on, unable to wholly comprehend what they were witnessing. Balarama tried to raise his hands and shouted to wave them off.

  ‘Go back home! It’s a demon! It swallowed Krishna!’

  Dhum! The bird’s foot narrowly missed hitting him.

  He looked up, more concerned now with his own survival than with waving the other children away. They should be able to see the danger for themselves after all.

  The kraunchya bird was growing more and more agitated. It was doing everything but flying. Flapping its wings. Opening its beak wide to emit a bizarre parody of the natural crane bird cry. Hopping about from foot to foot.

  Suddenly, it screamed with agony and shuddered. It came to a dead halt, beak raised to the sky, entire body taut and quivering. It shuddered again. And again.

  Balarama saw something occurring around the throat of the bird demon. A discoloration. The white feathers there were turning dark bluish, as if dark blue blood were seeping from within, staining the pristine ivory plumage. But he doubted that even asuras had blue blood - green perhaps, but surely not blue. Blue was the colour of brahman, the infinite force of which all Creation was composed, the colour of Dharma and Devas. No. That discoloration could only mean one thing: Krishna. His brother might have been swallowed whole by the bird demon in a moment of ingenious ambush. But swallowing was not the same as digesting. No mere demon could simply consume Krishna! And that colour spreading like blood across the porcelain plumage of the bird demon was proof of it. Krishna’s presence in the bird’s throat was causing it more discomfort than a burning coal. A flaming coal of pure brahman, energy incarnate in human form. That, my friend, Balarama thought with pride, is my brother. Swallow that, demon!

  With a final shuddering croak, the kraunchya demon bent its long neck, pointing its beak at the ground, and heaved once, twice, thrice. With the third heave came a great outrush and Balarama winced, raising a hand to cover his face in case the demon had been performing its role as a crane too diligently. He didn’t mind cow froth or even cow dung. But half-digested fish he could do without!

  To his relief, the only thing that fell from the giant beak was a familiar little form, two legs, two hands, two eyes...yes, Krishna, intact and fully operational. Back on earth!

  The other children yelled and shouted in wonderment, pointing. Balarama glanced back and saw that several of them had approached within yards of where he stood. The fools! Did they not realize the danger they were in? If it had been one of them the bird demon had swallowed, they would have been half through the creature’s digestive system by now, slowly putrefying. He started to yell at them again, but just then Krishna rose to his feet and leaped up in the air.

  The kraunchya demon had still not fully recovered after regurgitating Krishna. Clearly, having the god child in his throat had not suited its physiognomy. The blue stain around its throat remained even now, as if irreparable harm had been caused to that region.

  Now, as Krishna leaped up in the air, the demon screeched and paddled its feet backwards. But Krishna was too quick for it. With one deft move, he grasped hold of its beak, the upper in one hand and the lower in the other hand.

  The demon screamed and fell sideways in its attempt to escape. Its legs and wings thrashed about helplessly.

  Krishna stood on the lower beak, almost sideways now, and pushed the two beaks apart with all his might. As he pushed, he expanded himself, growing as rapidly as the crane demon itself had grown before ambushing him. In the wink of an eye he was as large as the demon itself, and the creature’s beaks were pushed to their farthest point and beyond...

  The bird demon issued one final chilling cry which echoed through the valley. Then, a horrible tearing sound followed as Krishna pushed
its beaks apart past the breaking point. Balarama averted his eyes.

  4

  The children danced around Krishna and Balarama, hands interlinked, chanting songs praising Vishnu. The elders were gathered together in the village communal center, at the top of the meadow where Nanda’s herds grazed. They glanced at Krishna several times then at one another. None knew what to say next.

  It was Gargamuni who came to their rescue with the right words. The preceptor had accompanied them into exile, insisting that their spiritual welfare was his responsibility. He was also their sole contact with the outside world now as he could come and go freely without anyone daring to question his movements or motives.

  ‘It is time to acknowledge the truth, Nanda-Maharaja,’ said the old sage, his light brown eyes twinkling in the golden light of sunset. ‘And it is time for all to know the reason why your son has survived every attack by the most formidable demons imaginable. He has done what no mortal grown man could have done each time, and he has done it over and over again. Indeed,’ Gargamuni paused dramatically, ‘he has done what no mortal could have.’

  Everyone looked at him in awe. Even those who had suspected or dreamed or sensed what he was about to say next had never thought the day would come when it would be acknowledged and asserted in so many words. Yet when the great brahmin who was their spiritual and religious guide himself spoke the words aloud, at once each and every person present there knew that he spoke the absolute undeniable truth. They knew this in the same way that any living creature on earth can recognize the sun in the sky, life-giver of all natural things. For all living beings recognize their benefactor, and all babes know their birth-mother.

  ‘He is Swayam Bhagwan, sent to grace us and live amongst us. He is the great soul, the fount of brahman itself, father of Brahma the Creator and originator of worlds infinite. He is the Slayer of Kamsa.’

  Then the great brahmin grew melancholy and sad, falling silent until Nanda asked him gently what was the matter. ‘Alas,’ said Gargacharya. ‘Now it is certain that his presence here is known to all those who serve the purpose of evil. Even if Kamsa himself dare not set foot in this vale to challenge our beloved deva just yet, he will surely have sent out a horde of demons. I fear that the asuras in the form of a crane bird and the calf were only the beginning. The assault on Krishna will be unending now and ever escalating. It is no less than a war. Except that this war is waged upon a single being, this little son of Vasudeva and Devaki.’ By this time the guru had told the whole story of the Slayer’s birth and all around were aware of every last detail of Krishna’s extraordinary conception, birth and true origins.

  ‘What can we do to help our Savior in this fight?’ asked someone.

  ‘Yes,’ added another voice that was echoed by all present. ‘If need be, we are willing to lay down our lives for Him. For he is the One we have been waiting for, our future salvation. We shall protect him by all means.’

  Garga shook his head sadly. ‘Your sentiments are sincere but your efforts of no avail. The Slayer must walk this path alone. This is a time of testing for him. It is his karma to battle the demonaic hordes sent by Kamsa and his evil allies single-handedly.’

  ‘But he will surely prevail, will he not?’ asked a hesitant voice. This was none other than Yashoda.

  Garga turned a kind but troubled face to her.

  ‘Would that I could say yes without doubt, good Yashoda. But the truth is that these things are not the province of us mere mortals. All I can say that if the answer was such a foregone conclusion, there would be no fight, no struggle. Our Lord in this child’s form would simply go forth and destroy the Usurper and liberate us all from his tyranny. The fact that he does not do so indicates that he is not ready yet. Perhaps he requires time to grow his physical body? Perhaps he needs to perform some other mystical dharma of which we are not aware? Perhaps he simply needs to face these challenges and prove himself before he is ready to face the lord of these demons and fulfill the prophecy. I cannot say for certain. All I can say is that even a prophecy is but a prediction. And even a god can be defeated, even killed. I say this not to frighten you, good mother, but merely because the knowers of brahman can never be untruthful. It would violate my vows. Since you asked the question, I must answer honestly. And this is my honest answer: Krishna must survive these tasks and challenges on his own. That is all I can say for now.’

  Everyone was silent, pondering the words of the preceptor.

  Outside, in the fading dusk light, the children continued to play. In the center stood Krishna on one foot, his other foot bent in his favorite stance, head tilted, chin pointed upwards, playing his flute.

  The melody drifted across all Vrindavan, and in the distant eaves and drifts, leaves stirred as if roused by an invisible wind and strange sounds startled the gentler denizens of the woods, as if from creatures that none could see but were omni present.

  Deep in the darkling woods and thickets, where the wormwood crumbled, laughter echoed, mocking the music.

  And still the flute played on.

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