With Janmashtami happening last week, it was hard not to think of Sri Krishna. It was fashionable among the cool, English-speaking ‘Lutyenites’ that I grew up with to call him ‘cunning’ because of Kurukshetra and ‘amoral’ because of the gopis. It was equally fashionable to mock Shaivas as ‘phallus worshippers’. Sometimes, I felt like Prahlad among the asuras since sarva dharma sambhavana or ‘secularism’ as we understand it in India, means ‘respect for all religions’, which includes mine. Also, it seemed the height of hypocrisy to pray in private but not know God at parties.
I grew to understand that the Shivling is a chhin, a symbol or indicator, like in Hindi puling (masculine) and striling (feminine). Some rare phallic depictions do exist in ancient sculpture but that is not how the vast majority of devotees see the Shivling; they see it as an abstract icon. From that primary realisation, the next step was towards an understanding of the truth about Krishna lore.
Firstly, he did try to stop the war. He humbled himself to go as the messenger of peace to Duryodhana and offered the most minimal terms, just five villages. But ‘not one needle-point of land’ was Duryodhana prepared to give the Pandavas.
There is a powerful Hindi poem about this called Rashmirathi by Ramdhari Singh Dinkar with stirring recitations on YouTube. It’s an epic piece to enjoy, and to learn for elocution if so inclined. Those five villages still exist today on the map as big places. They are Panipat (Panaprastha), Baghpat (Vyaghraprastha), Tilpat (Tilaprastha), Sonepat (Swarnaprastha) and Delhi (Indraprastha).
Secondly, I began to grasp that sometimes when Hindu theology quotes big numbers, it’s simply saying ‘a great many’ or ‘everybody’ in poetic terms, as in ‘sixteen thousand gopis’. The gopis represent ‘everybody’ or all souls. During the Maharaas or Raas Lila, every gopi felt that Sri Krishna was dancing with her alone. This conveys that each and every person has a unique personal relationship with God.
It was also fashionable to mock the incident of the gopis in the river whose clothes were stolen by Krishna, whereas it’s a striking allegory for appearing before God without any defenses.
Why didn’t they say so in the first place, you ask? You need a strong story to make people remember the central points you wish to make. Our ancients understood this well. That is why the stories are still around despite the colonial blight that succeeded in embarrassing some of us.
The way it works is that the Upanishads ask the big existential questions about the nature of the universe and the purpose of life. The kavyas or epics convey the philosophical insights from the Upanishads through stories—the Ramayana, Mahabharata and Srimad Bhagavatam. This is done because philosophy alone does not kindle the heart. We seem to need a Face to love. We need a personification. Sri Krishna, the Poornavatar or ‘complete avatar’ fulfils that emotional need in many ways—as an adorable child, a glad, brave youth, a kind friend, a charming love interest, a warrior and a guru. He is everything to everybody and we are free to relate to him in a way that suits our particular temperament.
Sri Krishna says in the Bhagavad Gita, Canto Nine, Verse Twenty-six:
Patram pushpam phalam toyam/yo me bhaktya prayachhati/tad aham
bhakti uphartam/asnami prayatatmanah
‘Just a leaf, a flower, a fruit or some water is enough for me. I accept it. But what I want is your love. What you offer is the vehicle that carries your love to me’.
What is Krishna-love in everyday terms if he is with everybody? The message one receives is that negative behaviour spoils life. We must fight for a righteous cause but in general we are meant to show God-love through manners at home and manners in public. The good energy that it puts out uplifts the atmosphere and comes back to us.
Incidentally, eating curd rice, a life staple, is never ordinary if we recall that this was the packed lunch that Mother Yashoda gave Sri Krishna when he went to graze the cows with the gopa boys.
It’s in the Srimad Bhagavatam. Veda Vyasa, its author, says, “Vaamey paney masrula kabalam tad phalan aangulishu”, meaning, ‘His left hand held the ball of curd rice (on a leaf) and in the fingers of his other hand, he held the accompaniment’. There would have been no shortage of curds in Yashoda’s house and the usual accompaniment to curd rice is pickle. I once had an earnest discussion in Hindi at my local temple on whether it was mango pickle or lemon pickle. We felt charmed and elated to think that we still eat the food Sri Krishna ate.
Janmashtami is indeed a nice time to renew good thoughts and tender feelings.