The Triumph of the Lord of Rukmini

The Fourth Sarga

Krishna loves those who are detached and rejoices when one pursues knowledge. He is ever-capable yet bound by his devotees. When he approached mother Yashoda quietly one morning, as she was churning curd, her hair tied up was moving this way and that, scattering the flowers that adorned her hair, she was singing songs of praise of the lord even as tears streamed down her cheeks at the prospect of presenting butter to her Krishna.

Krishna’s face was like a flawless moon while his body was covered with mud in which he was playing, Mother Yashoda lovingly placed him on her lap and brushing the dirt off his body and wondering if he was hungry, offered her breast to him.

It so happened that Yashoda had put some milk to boil even before she began churning the curd. As she was feeding Krishna she noticed that the boiling milk was about to flow over. For forgetting that Krishna was Naarayana himself and capable of handling everything, for unceremoniously putting him on the ground when she rushed to the pot of milk, Krishna avenged the slight by throwing a stone and breaking her pot of curd.

When thus left alone by Yashoda, Krishna quickly grabbed a lump of butter and fed it to a cat. When a person has excessive interest in wealth, God deigns it fit to give away his wealth to the undeserving, for them to squander. Thus one is sure to lose whatever he loves excessively, if such love is devoid of devotion to the lord.

When Yashoda did not find Krishna where she had left him, she began to look for him. Spotting him at a distance she followed the path leading up to him. As Krishna went further and further away, Yashoda kept following him, till she caught up with him (or till Krishna decided to be ‘caught’). This goes to prove that single-minded pursuit of the lord is sure to help the devout reach him.

Yama with his infallible staff is inescapable. Yet he fears to go close to those who meditate upon the lotus-eyed lord with a thousand names. Such a Krishna, who is worshipped by Bramha and others, was threatened by Nanda Gopa’s queen, brandishing a stout stick!

Yashoda in her anger wished to tie up him whose body housed millions of universes. Often anger is blinding enough to make one challenge the unchallengeable.

Mother Yashoda was unable to tie Krishna for his ‘mischief’ of breaking pots of curd. I feel that Krishna remains unfettered due to his power and also of the liberated souls which reside in his belly!

Yashode approached Krishna angrily, in order to tie him up, but found the rope a little short. As if to kindle a desire in Yashoda to fetch a longer rope or in order to display his boundlessness, Krishna made every bit of rope that she fetched, just about inadequate to tie him up.

When she found that no length of rope was sufficient to tie him up, Yashoda realised that this little child was not her ‘son’, but was Naarayana himself. And then Krishna who allows himself to be tied up in the minds of the enlightened, allowed the enlightened Yashoda to finally tie him up. Thus, Yashode was able to tie up the younger brother of Balaraama.

After tying up Krishna who would climb on to the stone mortars to reach the pots of milk, Yashoda tied up Krishna to such a mortar itself. She was of the opinion that this would teach him not to climb onto the mortars.

Yashoda resumed her household work even as the child along with the mortar inched forward. It seemed that Krishna was intent on destroying the sins of his devotees Nalakubera and Manigreeva.

Krishna dragged the mortar through the crevice formed between the twin trees, successfully uprooting them, killing the two demons who dwelt within the two trees.
Thus, he protected his devotees Nalakubera and Manigreeva, who were cursed to become trees.

It seemed like this act of protection and rescue of the two devotees, was to put up two more celestial singers* in the skies.

*for Nalakubera and Manigreeva were Gandharvas

The lotus eyed Krishna, in order to make his beloved devotee Bhima’s younger brother Arjuna unrivalled, seemed to uproot the Arjuna* trees** and destroy them.

*so that no one with the same name could claim his fame

**The mere touch of the mortar (which had acquired merit by being in touch with the divine child), was

enough to release the two cursed captives. Singing Krishna’s praises, immersed in meditating upon him, they returned to their rightful home.

Due to the presence of Krishna, Vrajbhoomi turned into a bustling town. Desirous of living in the blissful quietude of forests, Krishna decided to move from Gokula to Vrindavan.

However, Nanda and others were inclined to stay in the town of Gokula, which had been rendered safe with the extermination of demons such as Trinavarta. In order to instil fear among the contented citizens of Gokula, Krishna created wolves from the strands of his hair.

Thus did Krishna force his kith and kin to vacate Gokula, aware that the demons he was yet to vanquish had now become wary of approaching Gokula, as word had spread about the killing of various demons by baby Krishna.

The people of Gokula made their way to Vrindavan in a procession, with cartloads of belongings, children, the aged and the women, while the men played music with their flutes, stringed instruments, drums and horns.

The gopis of Gokula having wound up their tasks and their homes, now sat in the carts contentedly, with their hair adorned with the fragrant champaka flowers, their clothes swaying, their ornaments glistening. As if they knew what the future held in store for them, they happily sang about the exploits of Krishna as they made their way to the grounds of ‘raasa-leele’.

The feet of the cattle and the cowherds and the wheels of the carts raised enough dust to cover the sun himself. The sun, as if to apply the dust of the feet of Vishnu and the Vaishnavas, appeared to pull back his rays.

The minute Krishna stepped on to the soil of Vrindavan, the trees showered their flowers, parakeets chattered, koels sang, elephants walked gently, water cascaded from the mountains, the deer watched with their beautiful eyes, the land became cool by the shadows cast by the trees, all in readiness like a court about to welcome its king!

Naarayana, as Krishna, was born in Mathura, spent his infancy in Gokula and now proceeded to Vrindavan, drawing a parallel to his (Naarayana’s) three celestial abodes, Ananthaasana, Shwethadweepa and Vaikunta.

The cows and the cowherds of Vrindavan were content with the ample supply of fruits, flowers, water and fodder. Thus Vrinda-vana (meaning protector of the group) remained true to its name. If the lord is pleased and wants to grant something, there is nothing that can remain out of reach.

In Vrindavan, Krishna indulged in wrestling matches with the cowherd boys donning the guise of cows. He moved around tossing stones high up into the air. These acts were like rehearsals for the events to follow- Krishna’s fight against Vatsasura and tossing him in the air.

Krishna also spent his time with his friends, dressed as monkeys, tying planks of wood between trees to connect them, as if to reminiscence his previous avataara in Treta Yuga, in which he as Sriraama wandered in the forests with the Vaanaras and built a bridge across the sea.

When Krishna along with others was grazing the cows, an evil demon disguised as a calf joined the grazing cows in order to attack Krishna. The poet in me declares that the demon did not merely ‘disguise’ himself as an animal but it was an indicator of his true nature.

Here Vaadirajaru uses the metre called ‘Shardoolavikreedithavrutha.’ This is generally used to highlight a heroic quality or a brave act. But Shardoolavikreeditha literally means ‘play of the tiger’, which the poet uses to depict Krishna becoming the death of Vatasura, just as a tiger becomes the death of a cow.

This verse compares the activities of Krishna to the metre. This metre is characterised by groups of syllables called ganas. Each of these ganas are associated with a particular deity/element, the earth, wind, sun and space.

Krishna, with the contact of his holy feet, turned Vrindavan into hallowed ground. The constant breeze energised his wandering feet. The lustre of his feet created the luminescence of a thousand suns. Then he established himself in the hearts (hridayaakasha) of his dear ones.

When Krishna, the protector of cows and calves of Gokula, threw Vatasura high above in the air as if to elevate him, it was only befitting that the asura incapable of reaping the benefit of Krishna’s elevation, came crashing down.

When Vatasura was thrown in the air, he became briefly entangled in the branches of a bael tree, whose fruits fell to the ground along with the asura. We can thereby infer that those who offer support to the lord’s enemies lose their virtue, just as the tree lost its fruits.

This world is known to ensnare its inhabitants with the net made of the ‘love’ they have for each other, which is firm as an indestructible tree. Yet, Krishna ‘hunts’ down even the greatest of jeevas (Bramha included) and grants them liberation from this trap. Mistaking this great hunter to be a fish (the avataara he donned as Matsya), the demon Bakasura approached Krishna planning to swallow him, little knowing that his fate was the same as the crane approaching a whale, only to get swallowed by it.

Bakasura, displaying every manner of hostility approached Krishna, in order to swallow him. As if to show that he would not utter Krishna’s name, he held his beak wide open, and as if to display his great enmity, he spread his wings and held his legs away from the earth. He chose the aerial route due to the misconception that the sky (which is Vishnu’s feet) was the strand of hair of Shiva.

The evil Baka swallowed Krishna who inside Baka’s stomach became fiery, choking the bird and forcing it to spit him out. Krishna who never resides in the hearts of sinners seemed to have found it equally disgusting to spend even a minute in the belly of Baka.

Thus Krishna sent the evil ones packing to hell, in a cart called Shakatasura, with the reins being Poothani, pulled by oxen Khara, Keshi, Vatsa and Vrishabhasura, the powerful Vatasura being the driver and the terrible Baka being their emblem.

Krishna holding wide apart the beak of the demon in the form of a bird, tore it apart and sent the asura to experience eternal misery in hell, like a bird condemned to live its life within a well.

The lotus-eyed Krishna, draped in silk, whose feet were as soft as a flower, continued to enjoy the beauty of spring in Vrindavan, even as the cool breeze evaporated the few beads of perspiration that had appeared on his divine body.

Like a man filled with desire, finds it difficult to leave alone a beautiful woman draped in red (even when she’s menstruating), with eyes as wonderful as the eyes on the peacock’s tail, whose face is fresh as a flower, whose dark curls resemble clusters of bees, whose arms appear to be flower laden limbs of trees, whose body is as delicate as a creeper, with soft speech which are music to one’s ears, emanating from a mouth with lips red as the flower of the flame of the forest/*; Krishna too could not forsake Vrindavan in spring.

*Butea monosperma

Vrindavan was beautifully alive with peacocks dancing with their tails fanned out, the flowers blooming everywhere were like the face of spring with the beauteous eyes of the peacock’s tail-its eyes, the buzzing bees flitting about like the dark curls of hair, the dainty creepers were like lithe bodies, the weighted branches were the limbs, the reddened sky was like its garment, the call of the koel its sweet voice, the chatter of parakeets its soft speech, the flowers of the flame of the forest –its red lips. Here Vadirajaru has described a woman as spring and then spring as a woman :-)

When the cool breeze rendered fragrant by the numerous blossoms blew softly, soothingly...it seemed like Mahalakshmi herself fanned the divine guest, to rid him of his weariness.

Spring delights the koels. The cooing of the koels amid the green leaves of mango trees ignites the passion of the amorous, making one wonder if they (the koels) are softly chanting secret spells of the God of love himself.

The softly buzzing bees flying from flower to flower to suck nectar, seem to have a message for young lovelorn men – forsake your ego and mutter sweet nothings to your beloveds – and experience the nectar that their lips offer.

When the pleasant winds of spring blow, the wives whose husbands are far away conducting business, feel the pangs of separation intensely. They spray their tears as if to send word to their husbands who would perhaps come in contact with the same breeze or listen to the buzz of the same bees!

Spring or Vasantha whose friend was Manmatha or the God of love, was very upset with Shiva for having burned him (Manmatha) down. Yet knowing fully well that he was no match for Shiva, he decided to do things in an alternate fashion. He created the desire in amorous young men to strip their beloveds of their upper cloth and to etch moon-like marks on their breasts with their nails, as if to create another Shankara!

This new Shiva which Vasantha created had other markings of Shiva as well. As the young women applied turmeric paste to their breasts it depicted the blue-throatedness of Shankara. The hands of the lovers that enveloped the breasts were like the head of Shiva adorned with lotuses offered by his devotees. The tight embrace symbolized his station in the hearts as well as becoming invisible. When the tired heads of these lovers rest on the bosom of their beloveds, the bliss they experienced was like the bliss granted by the lord himself. It was as if Vasantha had recreated Manmatha who was burnt to ashes.

The breeze of spring offered coolness, fragrance and freshness that refreshed the lovers and rekindled their desire in their beloveds.

Spring or Vasantha whose friend was Manmatha or the God of love, in order to hasten the rebirth of Manmatha*, seemed to impress Krishna by blowing pleasant, fragrant breeze, increasing the scents of flowers, making the koels coo, parakeets chatter, bees buzz; bathing him with the nectar of flowers, worshipping him by showering flowers, providing shade with trees as umbrellas.

*as Krishna’s son Pradyumna

The new shoots of the creepers and the fresh branches of the trees seem to heave in the wind and embrace each other. When such is the case (with creepers and branches of trees), is it any wonder that those in love feel impelled to embrace and enjoy the company of their beloveds?

While the breeze, the cooing of birds and the fragrance of flowers that bloom in spring are fleeting, Krishna creates the very image of spring, eternally, with his sweet voice, soft speech, enticing words, his nimble limbs, his bud-like lips, his fresh breath, his hair adorned with flowers.

When Krishna thus sought shelter underneath the verdant groves of Vrindavan, his dear ones pressed and caressed his feet as if to implore them (the feet) to rid the world of its troubles, like how they would stamp the hoods of the serpent Kaaliya.

Krishna who had bedecked his flowing hair with the tail feathers of the peacock, was dancing like the serpent eating bird that the peacock was, as if to forecast his dance on the hoods of the serpent Kaaliya.

When Krishna, who dwelt in the enchanting forests, rested under the trees, his dear companions vied with each other to press his feet, as if to show that these very feet would rid the earth of her troubles when they danced on Kaaliya’s hoods.

Krishna, who was superior to even Bramha, had adorned his hair with peacock feathers and danced in gay abandon, like the peacock, as if rehearsing the steps he would place on the hoods of Kaalia.

Krishna was the object of worship of noble souls who would coo gently and pleasingly as the swan. It seemed like he practised being one among the swans by sounding like them. The setting sun, in an intoxicated condition, seemed to have cast a roving eye on a woman beloved to Varuna (the ocean). This sin of the sun seemed to immobilise his horses whereby he could no longer move ahead and was thus forced to drop down ingloriously.

As the sun went down, the sight of Krishna with his cowherd companions and satiated cattle, playing the flute, filled the cowherdesses heart with delight.

Krishna, visited the houses of the gopis at night and accepted their service, while glistening like the moon, for was he not the father of the most handsome Manmatha himself?

When he returned home, he delighted the ones who were present there, his lustrous presence shortening the slowly passing night.

When dawn broke, the sun rose above the peaks of tall mountains, eager to catch a good view of Krishna’s celestial dance on the hoods of Kaaliya that was to take place that day.

Krishna, the one who rode Garuda, made up his mind to punish Kaaliya. But as Kaaliya belonged to the same family (of snakes) as Maha Shesha, he thought it fit to leave behind Balaraama, the incarnation of Shesha, lest he try to soften the harsh punishment Krishna had in mind.

As if determined to pursue Kaaliya to the end of the world, Krishna jumped with alacrity and the speed of Garuda, from the overhanging branches of the trees into the waters of Yamuna.

The minute Krishna entered the waters, Yamuna overcome by love, gushed and swelled as if to embrace him. Whether to embrace Krishna or to imprint his footprints (on the banks) on to her chest, whether to lovingly touch him or to flow towards the ocean, her waters flowed back and forth. But I think it is the former, owing to the presence of one who is fit to be revered by the entire world.

Krishna splashed the waters vigorously causing Kaaliya to appear and to attempt to bite him. Having no ears being a snake, Kaaliya seemed unaware of Krishna’s praises sung by Mahalakshmi herself, and hence dared to attempt the impossible.

The souls that attain moksha travel on either the path of Garuda (Garuda-maarga) or the path of Shesha (Shesha-maarga). The cowherds desirous of seeing Krishna yet afraid of choosing the wrong path, wisely chose to be led by Balaraama, who was Shesha incarnate.

When the cowherds travelling on muddy paths recognised Krishna’s footprints with their characteristic marks of conch and discus, they knew they were on the right path. They continued to follow the path leading them to Yamuna.

When the cowherd boys approached the river, Krishna, like any young boy expressing joy at beholding the arrival of his playmates, began to dance with abandon on the hoods of Kaaliya, as if it was a stage for performance.

Krishna whose feet were forever held in Garuda’s palms, rid Kaaliya of its venom. If the mere remembrance of Garuda is enough to counteract snake venom, what to speak of the feet held in reverence, by Garuda himself?

Krishna lifted the long tail of Kaaliya, raising it and stomping on the bent hoods of the snake, as if to bring out the horrible venom it held within itself. It looked like a sack of rice being cut at the mouth and held upside down to remove the rice from the sack.

Even as Krishna slit the mouths of the venom spewing Kaaliya, he gently lifted its tail which played no role in spewing venom. Thus, Krishna punishes offences and offenders while he showers grace on those who commit no offence.

Vishnu’s punishment to his devotees is like the consolation offered by well-wishers to the grieving. Even as he stomped and slit Kaaliya, his mere touch was enough to grant his grace to the snake.

When Krishna was struggling under Krishna’s onslaught, Bramha, Rudra and other devathes came and stood around watching the sight, in order to wordlessly convey to Kaaliya that Krishna was Vishnu himself. Rudra’s cymbals (taala), Bramha’s drums (maddale) and Anjaneya’s singing turned Krishna’s dance into an other-worldly spectacle.

It is well established that a woman’s soft plea melts the coldest of men’s hearts. Krishna being no exception to this rule, stopped punishing Kaaliya when the latter’s wife (wives) implored Krishna to save her (their) husband.

Kaali the serpent and Kaalindhi (Yamuna) sound similar yet one is filled with poison while the other is filled with water. Owing to their colour, the former was known as Krishna and the latter was known as Krishnaa. Yet, Krishna chose to protect Kaalindhi and punish Kaaliya, for it is but natural to favour a woman.

By imprinting his footsteps on the hoods of Kaaliya, Krishna ensured Kaaliya’s protection from the fierce Garuda.

Wanting to keep his beloved Shesha also in good humour, despite punishing Garuda’s enemy (the snake) Krishna eventually granted him protection. Thus Krishna made sure that both Garuda and Shesha remained happy.

End of Sarga 4

Reading this account of Krishna’s childhood and his pastimes as part of RugmineeshaVijaya composed by Vaadiraja Tirtha is bound to enchant its readers, offering new perspectives with every reading, and rid them of their troubles. Thus ends the fourth sarga of this poem.