Verse 1

In plain words

41. The Account of Śrī Kṛṣṇa's Birth The Mahārāja, who had brought his Manas to stillness and dissolution, longing to hear of the episode of Mādhava's birth, joined his palms and said: "Svāmī! The time of this body has drawn near. The hours of the great ṛṣi's curse, too, are running towards me. For that, I am fully prepared, and glad. But I have taken up this vow: that as long as the jīva remains in the body, it must be spent in sat-cintana, sat-smaraṇa and sat-śravaṇa. So that no breach whatever may befall that vow, I long that for this remaining time, too, the beautiful lotus-face of Nanda's son may dance in my heart, and His līlā-forms may fill my mind. What the auspicious hour of Gopāla's birth was like; what wondrous and strange auspicious signs and blessings appeared in the world at the time of His birth; why Kaṃsa's wrath — his resolve to kill that boy — grew day by day; the story of Kaṃsa's birth, and the story of Gopāla's birth — let me hear these in my final hour, and bring my prāṇa to its end in Gopāla." Thus he prayed. Śuka, all the more joyful at heart, said: "Mahārāja! To spend this little remaining time wholly in hearing Gopāla's līlās, as you have asked, is the greatest joy for me too. Gopāla's birth was for the establishment of Dharma. It is a great mystery. Only to those whose karma has ripened does that secret of His birth

become comprehensible. But for those others, the world itself is a pit of sin: in it they sink, in it they float up, and in it they meet their dissolution. We need not concern ourselves with such people. Let us, who long to cross over, receive the fitting grace of the Supreme. The Marriage of Devakī and Vasudeva Mahārāja! Long ago, a king named Āhuka, of the Yadu lineage, ruled the world. Many vassal kings submitted to him, followed him, served him at every step, and spent their days under his rule. Two sons were born to him, named Devaka and Ugrasena. When they had grown up and come of age to look after the charges of kingship, he had them married and placed fitting responsibilities upon their heads. Thereafter, with the kingdom governed in this way, years went by. Seven daughters were born to Devaka, and nine sons to Ugrasena. Devaka's eldest daughter was Devakī; Ugrasena's eldest son was Kaṃsa. These two are the principal figures of our story. In those days the city of Mathurā was the capital for all the Yādava kings. The king who ruled the Śūrasena lands had also made Mathurā itself his residence. Ten sons and seven daughters were born to him. Among them, the eldest son was Vasudeva, and the eldest daughter was Kuntī. In this way their families prospered day by day, and the daughters and sons grew on into adulthood. The swift momentum of Time, circling round, bound the causes into the form of their effects. Every preparation was made to give Devakī — daughter of Devaka, Kaṃsa's paternal uncle — in marriage to Vasudeva, son of the king of the Śūra land. The wedding was celebrated with the utmost splendour.

Kings, emperors, vassal kings, high officials and the foremost of scholars — all of them thronged the place. Kaṃsa took the greatest care in every matter. Since he had no sisters of his own, he regarded Devakī, his paternal uncle's child, as his very own sister; he himself personally provided every article she needed and all her ornaments, and he had the wedding conducted as a feast for the eyes. On the third day, having given the bridal gifts, when she was being sent off to her in-laws' home, he himself stood as charioteer, seated his sister and his brother-in-law in the chariot, and was setting off with great splendour, taking them in procession through the city streets — when, like a streak of lightning in the sky, a brilliance dazzled their eyes. Just then a great, cataclysmic sound rang out. Seeing that brilliance and hearing that cataclysmic sound, the people and the kings froze, each where he stood. The instruments fell silent. And while the whole city street lay utterly still, a few clear words rang out from the sky. The Heavenly Voice Warns Kaṃsa They were these: "O King Kaṃsa! You have become a fool who does not know what lies ahead. The sister you love as dearly as your own life, whom you have seated in the chariot and for whom you drive it with such splendour — in that sister's eighth womb is about to be born the one who will slay you. Consider what lies ahead!" With these words a radiant divine form appeared, and vanished. Hearing those words, the kings and the people fell prey to fear and panic, and all their gaiety and splendour vanished utterly at a stroke. In the chariot, Kaṃsa felt fire flare up in his belly. Faltering, at a loss, his hands let go of the horses' reins. His heart filled with fury. His thoughts, with the utmost speed, took on a distorted, monstrous form.

At last he came to a decision. "Only if my sister lives can the one who kills me be born of her womb. If I make her cease to exist, that slayer will never be born, will he!" So he thought; and seizing his sister, who sat behind him, by the hair, he dragged her forward and drew his sword. No one at all could bear to look on this dreadful sight. That he should love her as his own life, do every splendour for her with his own hands, and then try to kill her — it seemed contradictory, strange and dreadful. No one could do anything. Then Vasudeva, Devakī's husband, took hold of his brother-in-law's hands and entreated him: "Brother-in-law! I too heard the word the Heavenly Voice spoke, didn't I? Would harm to you be welcome to us, for our part? We, who always wish for your welfare, would never wish you harm. It is not right for a brother like you to bring something inauspicious into this auspicious occasion. Let go of your sister. If you have so much faith in the Heavenly Voice's words — that danger will come to you from the one yet to be born — I will hand over to you every child that is born. This is my solemn pledge. To do this to a full, living life for so small a thing is good neither for you nor for your kingdom." Kaṃsa's Outrage Since there was some truth in this, he was satisfied; he let Devakī go and said, "Brother-in-law! See that you keep your word!" Then he appointed his brother to that chariot and himself turned back. He turned back, yes — but with fear for his own life on one side and Prema for his sister on the other, unable to let go of either, though he lay on a bed of swan's down it was as though he lay in a blazing fire. Food and sleep steadily dwindled. Kaṃsa was sunk ceaselessly in thoughts of death. In this way a year passed; between the brothers-in-law letters and replies kept passing back and forth. At last, when Devakī's nine months were complete,

she bore a son. "Was it not by the word I gave that I saved your life?" — with this Vasudeva reasoned with Devakī Devī; and, true to the word he had spoken, he wrapped the newborn in its birth-cloth, brought it, and handed it over to Kaṃsa. Then King Kaṃsa's heart would not consent to killing that infant. Rejoicing at Vasudeva's vow of truth — that he had kept his word just as he had given it — Kaṃsa said: "Brother-in-law! No harm comes to me from this child. The Heavenly Voice spoke of the eighth womb; so take this child back yourself." So saying, he gave it back to him. At that Vasudeva was somewhat relieved; he handed the child back to Devakī Devī and, thinking, "I have saved our firstborn son, haven't I!", prayed to God in many ways, and was living in a joy beyond words. Meanwhile the second pregnancy began. For them, though on one side there was the longing for children, on the other side the feeling of not knowing whether a child, once born, would survive kept tormenting them. Meanwhile Nārada, who wanders through the three worlds, came, in the course of his wanderings, to Kaṃsa's presence. Asking after his welfare and the state of the kingdom, he told him, in the course of conversation, that all your Yādavas are devatās; that Kaṃsa, among them, was born of a portion of Kālanemi; that ruin would come upon all these Yādavas through the son to be born in Devakī Devī's eighth womb; and that Kaṃsa too would die at that very boy's hand — and so, like pouring oil on a burning log, he kindled Kaṃsa's wrath still further. Not content with that, as he took his leave of Kaṃsa and was going, he warned him: 'Kaṃsa! Regard each day you pass as an age. Do not grow careless, thinking, "When will death ever come?"' Because of this warning Kaṃsa's mind was thrown into agitation. Thinking, "Who knows — among the children already born, too, there may be those who will kill me," he sent word to Vasudeva. Vasudeva, trembling at what danger might befall, approached Kaṃsa; and Kaṃsa, in a towering rage, his eyes blazing red, roared: "How many children are there by now?" Vasudeva's mouth could not form the words to answer; if he told

what would happen — holding back that grief within him, his lips trembling, he said what he could not bring himself to say: "Six children, so far." "Very well — if that is so, tomorrow, as soon as day breaks, those six children must be handed over to me," Kaṃsa commanded. Without a word in reply — unable to go back on the word he had given, and unable to forget a father's Prema — staggering and swaying, he reached Devakī Devī and told her the news. How she suffered, holding those six children in her lap, is beyond description, beyond imagination. Mahārāja, you may think: how great a sin it is to take the lives of so many innocents for the sake of one life! But Bhagavān's līlās are not to be understood. Outwardly, one may think he took the infants' lives. In the inner meaning, their curse and their sin may have ripened and run their course, and higher births may come to them. What the secret of their former births is, what the purity of the births yet to come is — people do not see these; they look only at what lies in between, at what is visible to the eye, and grieve. The Lord of the worlds is not like that, is He! He considers all things across the three times, the three worlds and the three guṇas, and wills accordingly. Consider that Mādhava's compassion is greater than ours. What is good for us, Mādhava knows far better than we do. Therefore, holding that everything is Bhagavān's will, to remain free of anxiety and to dwell in contemplation of God is the very best of all. Mahārāja! On the second day, as soon as the sun rose, Vasudeva — unable, utterly unable, to let go of the six children — took attendants with him, shut his eyes, handed them over to Kaṃsa, and broke down weeping. Kaṃsa, a man wholly bent on self-interest, mercilessly seized those infants by the legs and dashed them to the ground. With a single blow each, he wiped out the very form of the children. With nothing he could do, Vasudeva, with a heavy heart, cursed his own fate, thinking, "What sin's fruit is this?", and reached home; and Devakī and Vasudeva, in grief for their sons, were wasting away moment by moment. Their very lives became burdens to them. Saying, "It is the divine will. As long as our span of life remains, living cannot be escaped," they clung on, stubborn lives, and with tears streaming from their eyes, their

were letting their bodies waste away. Meanwhile the seventh pregnancy began. That was a still greater wonder! When seven months had passed, it vanished: the pregnancy miscarried. What were they to tell Kaṃsa? Nothing came to their minds. Somehow the news was conveyed to Kaṃsa; and he, suspecting that his brother-in-law and his sister had perhaps played some trick on him, from that day on kept them in prison under the closest guard. For Vasudeva and Devakī, pining away in grief for their children, the prison too became one more torment."

In plain words

42. "The Mahārāja Has Reached Gopāla" Devakī and Vasudeva, dwelling in the prison, became, to look at, like people gone mad. Neither care of their hair nor the food the body needs — they took neither, attended to neither; ceaselessly, in grief for their sons alone, they were withering away. As soon as the second year began, Devakī's eighth pregnancy began. That was a great wonder! The wilted lotus-faces of Devakī and Vasudeva filled all at once with radiance, like freshly blossomed lotuses. Their bodies, which had become withered like dried logs, shone with a golden hue. The room Devakī was in was ceaselessly filled with fragrances, with lights, with dance and song, seen and heard — and only Devakī and Vasudeva noticed it. Afraid that if they told Kaṃsa of this wonder he would torment them further and hack the pregnancy itself to pieces, they kept it to themselves, savouring it alone, and passed their time wondering what state the eighth son, about to be born, would come to in the future. Now Kaṃsa, thinking that his time was coming, and seeking somehow to escape it, was seized by an evil craving that arose in his heart — that he must rule the land as sole sovereign under a single royal parasol. Becoming a slave to evil counsel, he took the kings in his kingdom named Yadu, Vṛṣṇi, Bhoja and Andhaka — those who were among the Yādava kings — and by injustice, lawlessness

and impropriety he conquered them, took all four of those kingdoms into his hands, and, so that nothing would obstruct his self-willed rule, put even his own father Ugrasena in prison, and was ruling just as he pleased." As the revered Śuka was saying this, King Parīkṣit exclaimed in agitation: "What! Knowing that his time was drawing near; with the Heavenly Voice's words — that the one who would slay him was growing in the eighth womb — ringing in his ears; and knowing that the Heavenly Voice is no lie — even so, did Kaṃsa bind himself, as by a sworn vow, to such evil craving and wickedness? This is most strange, Svāmī!" So he spoke words of astonishment. The Difference Between Divine and Demonic Dispositions At that, Śuka maharṣi burst out laughing and said: "Mahārāja! You seem to think that everyone, like you, on knowing that their time has drawn near, will yearn to behold Him whose very form is Time. It is in accordance with the merit and sin one has done that such dispositions arise. Consider for yourself how great the difference is between what you do on knowing that your time has drawn near, and what Kaṃsa does on knowing that his time is drawing near. These are what are called the divine and demonic dispositions. Those who have divine dispositions — meritorious deeds, good thoughts, faith in God, compassion for all beings, repentance, Satya, Ahiṃsā and Prema — at the end, only contemplation of God, only holy karma, sprouts in their citta. Not so those who have self-interest, Ahaṅkāra, evil craving, vice, violence and adharma: for them, at the last, such cruel turns of Buddhi arise, and in the end they meet their end. These are what are called — the one, the attainment of kaivalya; the other, the attainment of hell. The prāṇas leaving the body may be, to our eyes, the same act for all; even so, the places attained lie in a state imperceptible to the senses. Of that, the thoughts that arise at the end are the direct proofs. Destruction is one; the vision of Viṣṇu is the other. That is why people say, "Vināśakāle

viparīta buddhiḥ" — 'when destruction nears, the Buddhi turns perverse.' Only those who are headed for a state of destruction have such perverse turns of Buddhi arise in them; only those who are to attain the vision of Viṣṇu are gripped by such turns of Buddhi, filled with Vijñāna," said Śuka — heartfelt words about King Parīkṣit. King Parīkṣit said: 'Svāmī! This is not my own attainment. It is the great good fortune earned by my grandfathers and fathers that is carrying me to so exalted an end. Above all, the light of jewels of Jñāna like you, and the very nectar of Kṛṣṇa's grace — these are what have nourished the rasa of Bhakti in me. To this, the fruit of the company one keeps also does some good and some harm. Over my life, from birth until today, God's gracious glance has stood guard as my protection and has protected me. The company of the good, the friendship of dharmātmas, the acquaintance of the foremost scholars, and the fame of my holy grandfathers have made me into so great a figure. Wise ministers, too, stood as my right arms, and so I was able to win this much affection of a holy people. But it is not my effort alone. However fine a strain the seed may be, if the soil is not fertile we cannot reap fine fruit, can we? In my kingdom, if my forebears, the ṛṣis, the scholars, the ministers and the people had not been the right sort, then however noble the dispositions I had — just as when, though a pot is full of pure milk, a single drop of sour buttermilk falling in makes all the milk curdle — my noble dispositions would have flown from my citta, the dispositions of those around me would have entered me, and I too would have become one hard of heart like Kaṃsa. Therefore, I think that for these sinful deeds it must be that the elders, scholars, people and ministers in that kingdom were themselves somewhat given to vice and devoid of compassion and kindness. Whether my speculation is true or not, you yourself are able to decide.' Having said this, he left it at that: 'Rather than wasting this little time that remains in reckoning others' rights and wrongs, it is better to make it holy. Therefore, my

Gopāla, as dear to me as my own life — tell me how the hours of His birth drew near!' So saying, he bowed, closed his eyes, and, eager to listen, waited for Śuka's words. The Account of Balarāma's Birth Then Śuka said: "Mahārāja! So that the embryo in the seventh womb might be a companion to Gopāla, the child of the eighth womb, 'Yogamāyā' — that is, the divine Śakti — took that embryo away and caused it to enter the womb of Rohiṇī, Vasudeva's wife, who was living in Nanda's cattle-settlement. So it was born of Rohiṇī's womb. Because, under the name 'Balarāma', he grew day by day and shone with a body of great strength that delighted everyone, Garga named him Balarāma; and because he was drawn out of Devakī's womb, he was also called Saṅkarṣaṇa — by these two names he came to be called. Meanwhile Devakī's nine months were complete. Devakī and Vasudeva, holding their lives in their hands, wondering at which minute the birth would come, at which minute Kaṃsa would kill, what torment he would inflict — their minds seized by fear, without sleep or food — sat absorbed in one single anxiety. As soon as Kaṃsa learned that the nine months were complete, he made still more secure arrangements: he had Devakī's and Vasudeva's legs put in fetters, fastened the doors with the strongest locks, posted sentries — strong men — all around, and arranged for them to go inside every five minutes and look in on Devakī and Vasudeva; and he himself, too, in fear of what might happen, was ceaselessly anxious. Who has the power to know the divine Māyā? Can there be any obstacle to the divine saṅkalpa? Fools who cannot know the truth, who cannot recognise the divine power or put their faith in it, think that their own efforts will protect them and make them victorious; but without the divine command they cannot accomplish even the smallest thing. That is not to say that, if the divine

saṅkalpa exists, it will happen of itself and we may sit idle. Puruṣārtha must be grounded, to some extent, in effort. One must put to use whatever strength and skill one has, lay the burden upon God, and bind oneself firmly to the vow of the task at hand. The Vision of Śrīman Nārāyaṇa Without God's grace, everything can only be barren of fruit. One night, in the room where Devakī and Vasudeva were, Devakī, in the pains of labour, remembering God and gazing at the wick-lamp, was lamenting: "Who is there for me now? What is to become of me?" — when all of a sudden that wick-lamp went out. Then a form radiant with divine light appeared before her eyes. Wondering who He was, she called Vasudeva: "Has Kaṃsa come, by any chance? Who is this royal personage?" And even as Devakī was in her fluster, He, bearing conch, discus and mace and granting abhaya, said: "Do not grieve. I am Nārāyaṇa. Desiring to end your sufferings, and by the promise I gave in those former days as the fruit of your tapas, I myself am about to be born from your womb within a few minutes. Do not grieve in the least on my account; just keep watching the drama as it unfolds. The one who could harm me has not been born, and will not be born, anywhere in these fourteen worlds. Through a parent's love for a son and a mind veiled by Māyā, some sorrow may arise for a while; but at once you will experience a wondrous marvel. As soon as I am born, your fetters will snap and the doors will open. Without anyone knowing, take me to Nanda's house in Vrepalle and place me beside Yaśodā, who at this very hour is in the pains of labour; bring back the girl-child's form born there, keep it beside you, and send word to Kaṃsa. Until then, whether in Mathurā or in Vrepalle, I shall see to it that no one sees you or seizes you." So saying, with divine radiance He blessed Devakī and Vasudeva, and, as a form of light, entered Devakī's womb. Within a few minutes of His entering, the birth took place; it was half past three in the night — Brahma