Janmashtami is on August 16, so let us recall that night in Mathura when it happened, drawing from the Srimad Bhagavatam:
Mahavishnu meditated in heaven before taking his eighth descent to earth. He put himself through these hardships for mortals because he was sworn to protect the good, punish the wicked and set the world right from age to age.
As Krishna, he had chosen to be ‘born’ in jail.
His earthly parents, Princess Devaki and Prince Vasudev, had waved happily from their carriage at the cheering people of Mathura on their wedding day. Devaki’s brother Kamsa, king of Mathura, drove them himself through the city to greet the people. But a bodiless voice had silenced them all when it rang through the air to say that Devaki’s eighth child would kill Kamsa.
Kamsa had instantly drawn his sword to kill his sister. But Vasudev had caught his sword arm. “It is not your sister’s fault, king,” he had said steadily. “Take our eighth child, if you must, but do not kill Devaki.”
Kamsa had locked them up in Mathura Jail, and each time a child appeared, he had dashed the baby’s head against the stone walls, killing it instantly.
How afraid Vasudev and Devaki had been when she began to expect the dreaded eighth child. As her time drew near, they grew calm and resolute. They had clearly been chosen for some task beyond their understanding and would meet it with courage. Devaki sensed that her child would be born on the eighth night of the moon’s dark fortnight in the month of Bhadrapada.
And so it was. There came that glorious hour when the star Rohini arose in the night sky and all the planets stood in their best positions. The stars shone bright, while on earth, the cities, villages, fields and forests felt a sudden well-being. A great peace fell on the world at that moment.
The rivers sparkled, and the lakes suddenly bloomed with lotuses, although it was night. The birds awoke and chirped softly in joy. The breezes blew sweet scents and, free of dust, touched tired, sleeping bodies gently. The oil lamps burned brighter than ever before. The dreams of the people oppressed by cruel Kamsa grew sweet as though sensing the advent of the Unborn One. Unheard by mortals, singers in heaven sang welcoming songs of praise in pure, clear voices, and holy men and celestials showered the finest flowers on earth.
Heaving masses of clouds began to fill the sky and move in a great dance with the deep, rolling waves of the sea. All creation seemed to hold its breath when, at the night’s darkest hour, Krishna, the world’s well-wisher, came forth amid the human race. He appeared to the heartsore and the weary like the full moon rising.
For one dazzling moment, Devaki and Vasudev saw their child stand tall, as a god glowing with heavenly radiance. They saw his kind eyes and his four mighty arms holding a conch, a discus, a mace and a lotus. He wore yellow silk, and his body shone darkly beautiful like the rain clouds. Overcome by his splendour, Devaki and Vasudev fell at his feet and felt the vision fade. In its place lay a baby with curly hair and a face whose beauty made their eyes overflow.
A voice told them what to do next. Devaki held her baby once, memorising every feature through her tears. The fetters on Vasudev’s feet fell away, and he took the baby from Devaki. Just then, Yogmaya, the mysterious force of the Mother Goddess, appeared as a baby daughter to Yashoda, wife of the cowherd chief, Nanda, at Gokul village across the Yamuna. By Yogmaya’s power, the guards at the jail and every person in Mathura sank deeply into dreamless sleep.
The heavy doors of Mathura Jail swung open silently for Vasudev. He walked out to the river’s edge, trying to protect the baby from the rain that suddenly began to pour as he neared the river.
The Yamuna was in full spate, but when Vasudev set his trembling feet in her waters, the great river parted smoothly and made a path for him to cross. As Vasudev stumbled, a dark shadow glided forward and spread its hood above the baby and Vasudev to shelter them from the rain. The anxious father was unaware that the great serpent Adisesha had come to serve Vishnu in the Lord’s new game.
Vasudev crossed safely to Gokul. There, too, people lay stone-still in the deep sleep caused by Yogmaya. Vasudev went to the biggest hut, put his son on Yashoda’s cot and picked up her newborn baby girl. He re-crossed the now-quiet river to Mathura Jail.
The jail doors opened silently again. Vasudev placed the baby in Devaki’s arms and replaced his fetters. She stared spellbound at the baby’s face. Two dark, bright eyes looked at her with superhuman awareness, blazing with heavenly fire, and Devaki, cradling the tiny body, looked innocently back with the intense love of her starved mother’s heart. Then the baby softly dropped her eyelids, for Yogmaya had withdrawn her brilliant gaze out of mercy to the mortal woman. No being on earth had the strength to hold Yogmaya’s powerful gaze for even a moment. Only clean-souled Devaki had been able to exchange that long look with her.
Devaki and Vasudev sat down to wait for the morning, leaning on each other. Kamsa would come to wreak his worst. But Krishna was safely away from Mathura.
Renuka Narayanan | FAITHLINE | Senior Journalist
(Views are personal)
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