KRISHNA CORIOLIS#4: Lord of Mathura (15 page)

The gouts of water hung in the air momentarily, then resolved themselves into a number of other water serpents. They surrounded the drooping body of Kaliya in a cluster, like a ring attack formation in battle. 

Balarama hefted his plough. 

He started to make his way downhill, turning only to shout briefly at his people.

‘Everyone stay here!’

He ran down to the lake shore. 

As he ran, he saw the multitude of serpents raising their hoods, their malevolent black eyes hissing. They were all much smaller than Kaliya yet if they attacked together they would probably be lethal. Like a pack of dogs attacking a lion. This time, he was determined that Krishna would not fight alone. Let him be angry with him later; Balarama would not stand by and watch as his brother battled for his life yet again. 

But before he reached the lakeshore he saw that the cluster of serpents surrounding Kaliya and Krishna were not attacking. 

They were praying. 

20

KRISHNA
looked down at the serpents surrounding him. 

Their hoods were half-raised yet bent, their stalks curved downwards. He recognized the stance. It was the closest a snake could come to bowing or showing obeisance. His own celestial ally Anantha-Naga prostrated himself in exactly this fashion when greeting him whenever he returned home to Vaikunta-loka. 

But who were these serpents and why were they bowing to him? The answer came to him as the serpents called out to his mind. 

<
Lord, we are the wives of the unfortunate one upon whose hood you stand.
>

Ah, the wives of Kaliya. Naturally. Even demons had families. What did they want?

<
Lord, you are infinite and eternal, all-powerful and all-dominating. You have proved your superiority over our lord and consort.
>

‘I have no need to prove anything,’ Krishna replied. ‘He attacked me as an assassin. He sought to harm my people. He wounded me greviously. What I do, I do only in self-defense and retaliation.’

<
Yet he is no match for you. We see that now. He is at death’s door. He will surely die if you continue your divine dance.
>

‘As he sowed, so must he reap,’ Krishna replied curtly. 

He had no doubt that before Kaliya set out on this assassination attempt, leaving his subterranean watery cavern, these same wives would have encouraged and praised him, praying to their own deities for his success and triumph—namely, the death of Krishna and the destruction of the Vrishni. He had no sympathy for them or their ‘lord and consort’. 

<
We beseech you, lord. Spare him. You are great and merciful. What purpose will it serve you to take his life. Look at his condition. He will never harm any other living being again. At best, we could hope to nurse him back to a semblance of health and care for him the rest of his days. He is no threat to you or anyone else.
>

‘No matter. He came to kill or be killed. He failed. Now he must die. That is how I must show my enemies that any who assault me or my people will suffer the same fate.’

Still, they wept and cried piteously. Their pleading continued for the rest of the day. 

Krishna continued dancing relentlessly, Kaliya’s hood drooping lower and lower until it was evident that the serpent was facing his final hour. 

Finally, the lamentation of the wives of Kaliya reached Krishna’s heart. He thought of his mother’s brother Kamsa and how cruelly he had dashed out the brains of the six new born children that had preceded Balarama and Krishna into the world. That heartless taking of life was one of the things that distinguished an asura from a deva. For an asura cared nothing about creating or giving to the universe, only about taking and destroying. If he killed Kaliya, would he not be the same as any asura, as Kamsa himself? 

The thought itself slowed his feet. Gradually, his dancing ceased. He came to a halt. Took a moment. Then sighed. 

After all, he was God Incarnate. Not Shiva, the Destroyer of Worlds. Or Brahma. Creator of the Universes. But Vishnu, Preserver and Protector. 

His mission was to preserve, not kill. 

Krishna finally slowed his dance, gradually coming to a halt. 

He urged Kaliya to lower him to the lakeshore, speaking with his mind. 

The great water-serpent obeyed, its immense hood and torso trembling with weakness and fear as it stretched out to reach the lip of dry land around the lake. 

Krishna stepped out on solid land for the first time in days. 

He sent a greeting and blessing to Bhoodevi, spirit of the earth, expressing his gratitude at being back upon her topsoil once again. A flock of parrots flew screeching into the sky, their green plumes fluttering like colored banners in the air, adding a festive touch. Trees showered petals. Wind blew soft and gentle aromas. 

Yes, Bhoodevi was clearly glad to see him back safe and sound as well. 

Then he turned and regarded the nemesis that had come close to destroying him. 

‘Kaliya,’ he said grimly. ‘After the heinous manner in which you attacked my people and then myself, do you expect me to let you live? Speak!’

21

Krishna
faced the black snake. Kaliya’s hood shook, trembling as much from exhaustion and sickness as from fear. For it was truly terrified of Krishna now, he sensed. He took no satisfaction in this fact. If anything, he felt sad for it. 

<
Never before have I faced any mortal, asura or deva such as yourself. Truly the legend is true then. You are Hari himself. Swayam Bhagwan. Praise be to you, mighty Vishnu-deva in Krishna form.
>

‘I have no desire to hear your praises. I only grant you this reprieve because your wives petitioned on your behalf and compelled me to feel pity for you. If you will not speak quickly and to the point, I will deny their petition and destroy you where  you stand.’

<
Forgive me, Lord. Confronted with your effulgence, I could not but show my respect for this divine darshan. I will waste no more of your precious time.
>

‘Speak then. How do you justify your assault on me?’

<
I cannot justify it, Lord. I came to assassinate you. Had I been able to do so, I would have killed you without remorse or regret.
>

‘And if my people cried out for mercy, or lamented my loss? Would that have brought you to care enough to spare me? Or to spare their innocent lives?’

Kaliya’s great hood lurched sideways before keeping itself upright with an effort. 

<
Nay, my Lord. I admit I would not have cared what they said or did. I would have killed you and all your people.
>

‘Even the little children who could do you no harm?’

<
Especially
the little children. For the one who sent me on this mission is himself known as Childslayer. He takes special pleasure in the destruction of young lives.
>

Krishna clenched his fists. ‘I should strike you down here and now as you stand. You are a brutal and heartless monster. You do not deserve to be spared.’

Kaliya’s wives cried out shrilly, their serpentine shrieks harsh and cloying. But Kaliya’s response was measured and without emotion. 

<
My Lord, I know now what I did not know before. I have two thousand eyes yet only now have I learned to see clearly. I know that I was a fool even to try to attack you. If you wish to slay me, do so. It shall be my good fortune to die at the hands of great Hari Incarnate.
>

Krishna raised his hands, feeling the power of his Deva-shakti coursing through them. Above the lake, the sky grew dark and stormy of a sudden, and blue lightning blazed down through a cloudless sky to center upon Krishna’s raised hands, taking the shape of a gleaming golden disk. 

Krishna’s eyes flared blue as well. 

His voice boomed and gnashed like thunder in a closed chamber. 

‘It would be a pleasure to slay you, monster! I should cut every head off your body with a single flick of my weapon.’

Kaliya’s wives were silenced. The great serpent himself stopped swaying and held still, sensing his imminent demise. 

Suddenly, as abruptly as it had appeared, the lightning vanished, leaving only clear blue skies above. Krishna’s eyes flickered with blue light but were normal mortal eyes again. And his hands were a normal boy’s hands as well. 

‘I should slay you. But I will not,’ he said. ‘I will spare you instead. You are to leave this mortal realm forever and return to the watery cavern whence you came, there to spend the rest of your meagre life in the company of your wives and young ones.’

Kaliya bowed to him, hood swaying drunkenly.

<
My Lord, why do you spare me? There is no argument that I am an evil creature, that I sought to do you and your loved ones irreparable harm. If I were in your position I would not be as merciful as you are to me. Why then do you show mercy and spare my life as you are doing now?
>

Krishna raised his hand, blessing Kaliya as well as bidding him farewell. 

‘Because I am not you,’ he said. ‘I am Me.’

22

BALARAMA
slapped Krishna on the back and hugged him hard. Krishna pretended to be panting and heaving when Balarama finally released him. ‘Brother, even Kaliya did not crush me as hard!’

Balarama laughed and punched Krishna’s shoulder playfully. Then he hugged him again, squeezing him tight enough that Krishna could barely breathe. 

Beside them, Radha smiled shyly and expressed her pleasure at Krishna’s safe return. Balarama, who was on the other side of Krishna, waggled his eyebrows provocatively. Krishna elbowed him hard. Balarama pretended to gasp and stagger briefly. 

‘You spared your own assassin,’ Balarama said. ‘Do you think it will make the next one merciful towards you or your loved ones?’ He shook his head. ‘You are too easygoing with these asuras, bhraatr. They must be destroyed, exterminated from the earth.’

Krishna sighed. ‘You are probably right, bhaiya. Yet I do not see them as a species. I see them as individuals. Each is different.’

Radha nodded, agreeing with Balarama. 

Balarama glanced at her and snorted. ‘Nonsense. All demons are alike. They are evil and wish to destroy all that is good and righteous in the world.’

Krishna shook his head. ‘I am not so sure. Some are merely forces of nature or tools wielded by other hands. They are not evil in themselves, merely powerful means to some end.’

‘And as long as that end is our destruction, that makes them evil!’ Balarama retorted. 

Krishna smiled. ‘That is itself a fallacy, to assume that those who are against us are evil and only are the doers of good. What if it is the other way around.’

Radha’s eyes widened. ‘You cannot mean that, Krishna. How can you think of yourself as evil?’

Krishna sighed. ‘That is not what I meant. I merely suggest that things are not always black and white and grey. Each individual is unique, like a shade of color in a rainbow palette of infinite colors. We cannot dismiss all asura as evil. Or assume all devas to be good. Sometimes, one force does a good deed while the other does a bad one, for reasons that seem logical at the time but when viewed dispassionately, can be regarded as questionable.’

Balarama scratched his head. ‘How is killing innocent people questionable? It’s evil, that’s all!’ 

Krishna sighed and slapped Balarama on his meaty back. ‘Let me show you what I mean. Even as we speak, a new crisis confronts our people. We must rush to their aid.’

Radha and Balarama both looked around, peering in the direction of the path that led back towards Vrindavan hamlet. The last of the people had vanished from sight over the rise by this time. 

‘What new monstrosity seeks to attack them this time?’ Balarama said. He looked around for his plough. ‘Let me tackle this one, bhraatr. I will dash its brains out on the ground with my plough.’

Krishna smiled again, wistfully. ‘That is exactly what I have been trying to explain to you. It is no monster that threatens our people. It is not an evil force or a demon from the underworld. Yet our people are in grave danger nonetheless. Come now, we must hurry. Running will be too slow.’ 

He put an arm around Balarama and gestured to Radha. Shyly, she stepped into the circle of his other arm. He clasped her shoulders, drawing the tiniest of sighs from her. Then, with as little effort as drawing a breath, he rose up into the air. 

A brief moment as he tilted his head to point them in the right direction, then they were hurtling through the air, over the hilltop, down the next rise and up the next, following the undulating landscape over the few miles that separated them from the hamlet. 

Before they could reach within sight of the hamlet, they came to a thick patch of woods. The path disappeared into the woods and the last of the people were visible on the path, approaching the shady overhang of the trees. 

‘Balarama, Radha,’ Krishna said as they descended to earth, ‘you must run and warn as many people as possible to turn back and come out of the woods. Head for open ground. They will be safe there.’