A Story of Dvapara Yuga in Prose
( part-5)
By Lokanath Mishra
Kansa’s mind was deeply disturbed. This was the long-feared eighth pregnancy. Could it truly be that in this womb his destroyer was about to take birth? Waiting had become unbearable. He could not focus on his royal duties, nor could he eat with ease or sleep in peace. At times, the thought of killing Devaki during her pregnancy crossed his mind. Yet, the fear of universal condemnation held him back from committing such a heinous act. Instead, he had arranged seven layers of strict security around the prison, ensuring that neither the child to be born, nor Vasudeva or Devaki, could escape.
This was the tale of the Satya Yuga. Sage Kashyapa and his wife Aditi were engaged in penance, longing to have Lord Narayana as their son. One day, after their ritual bath, they returned to their hut only to find that the sacred kusa grass meant for worship had been eaten. Standing nearby was Nandini, the daughter of the divine cow Kamadhenu. Usually, cows were never tied in the ashram, but Kashyapa, believing Nandini to be the culprit, tied her to a post. When Kamadhenu Kapila returned, she asked, “Why have you bound my daughter?” Kashyapa replied, “She has eaten the kusa we use in our worship.” Kapila said, “It was not Nandini, but I who ate it. You will indeed obtain Vishnu as your son by penance. Yet, for binding Nandini, both of you must endure the punishment of imprisonment before gaining that supreme fortune.”
Thus, in Dwapara Yuga, Kashyapa and Aditi were reborn as Vasudeva and Devaki.
Meanwhile, heaven was abuzz with preparation. The gods adorned Mathura and Gokul with celestial beauty. Gentle, fragrant breezes flowed; trees blossomed with flowers and fruits, swaying in the wind; groves resounded with the sweet calls of birds of many hues. Gods and sages rejoiced at the thought of the Lord’s arrival. Finally, the most auspicious night arrived—
“In the month of Bhadrapada, during the dark fortnight,
When all planets stood in exaltation,
On the eighth night, under Rohini,
The Moon in Taurus with stellar strength,
The earth was filled with joy,
For Krishna was to descend.”
Devaki and Vasudeva lay in deep slumber when Devaki was suddenly awakened by labor pains. She roused Vasudeva. No midwife was present, but Vasudeva, having witnessed several childbirths, had gained some experience and assisted her. Soon, a child was born. Instantly, their chamber was flooded with radiant light. A divine presence shivered through their bodies. Before them stood Narayana Himself, the Lord of countless universes, in four-armed form, bearing conch, discus, mace, and lotus.
Adorned with golden girdle, gem-studded ornaments, crown, earrings, and anklets ringing sweetly, He shone with the Srivatsa mark upon His chest and Kaustubha jewel blazing brightly. His dark, rain-cloud complexion and beauty surpassing millions of Cupids enchanted them. Overwhelmed, the couple folded their hands in devotion, tears of joy streaming from their eyes. The Lord smiled gently and spoke:
“Father, Mother, according to the boon I had promised, I have taken birth as your son. Now tell Me, what else do you desire? If you wish, in this very life I can grant you liberation.”
Devaki replied, “Madhava, who desires liberation? Our only wish is to be born again and again, eternally, that we may have You as our son.”
Narayana raised His hand in blessing: “So be it.”
Vasudeva then asked, “Lord, why have You chosen to be born now? Kansa has already slain six of our children. How shall I protect You?”
The Lord answered, “Remember well what I say, for all else will be forgotten. At once you must take Me across the Yamuna to Gokul. There, upon Yashoda’s bed, you will place Me, and bring back her newborn daughter in My stead.”
Even as Vasudeva sought to ask further, the divine form vanished, leaving behind a radiant infant, cooing sweetly. Celestial beings showered flowers, Gandharvas sang, Apsaras danced, and heavenly drums resounded. Outside, rain poured, thunder roared, and lightning flashed across the skies.
Vasudeva recalled the Lord’s command. Though burdened by doubt at the seeming injustice of exchanging Yashoda’s daughter for his son’s safety, he bowed to the will of the Supreme. Chains binding his feet and manacles on his hands miraculously fell open. Placing the child in a wicker basket on his head, he moved towards the prison gate. The heavy iron doors swung open with a groan, while the guards lay unconscious in deep sleep. One by one, Vasudeva crossed all seven gates unchallenged.
Outside, rain ceased for a moment. Darkness was lit by flashes of lightning. Hastily, Vasudeva advanced towards the Yamuna. But at its banks, he was halted by the roaring floodwaters. The river rose high, waves lashing furiously. Yet Vasudeva pressed forward, water rising from his waist to his chest, and at last to his nostrils. Seeing this, the serpent Ananta spread his mighty hood above Vasudeva, shielding both father and child from the storm. The Yamuna, realizing it opposed the Lord Himself, calmed her waters and parted, granting passage.
Thus, Vasudeva reached Gokul. There too, by divine illusion, all lay asleep. Yashoda had just delivered a daughter and fainted in exhaustion, while the other women slumbered nearby. The chamber doors stood open. Vasudeva placed Krishna on Yashoda’s bed and gently lifted the infant girl. Quietly, he departed, recrossed the Yamuna, and returned to the prison where Devaki anxiously awaited. The moment he placed the girl in Devaki’s lap, the prison doors clanged shut, shackles returned to his limbs, and the guards awoke. Hearing the cries of the newborn, they rushed to inform Kansa that Devaki had given birth once again.
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( to be continued)
A story of Dvapara Yuga in Prose : ( part-4)