KRISHNA CORIOLIS#6: Fortress of Dwarka Read online

  To his surprise, she covered her face and began to sob. “How can you say that so blithely? I know what I have put you through? You were never permitted to enjoy your childhood and now you are spending every waking minute of your life’s best years in the service of the people. What life have I given you?”

  “Maatr,” he said affectionately, “who says I didn’t enjoy my childhood? Ask any gopa or gopi Gokul-dham. Krishna’s Lila is famous there! I was the terror of Vrindavan. Women would hide their dahi handis and butter pots to keep them safe from me. And every single gopi of Vraj believes she is married to me!”

  Despite herself, Devaki laughed through her tears. “You are only saying that to make me feel better.”

  “Go see for yourself! Ask anyone!” He rose and put his fingers to his lips, mimicking the act of playing a flute. “I was known as the Flute of Vrindavan for very good reason. Everybody danced to my tune!”

  He danced a ridiculous little dance, mimicking the ras-garbha dance of his adoptive parents. Devaki laughed. “Stop that, you’re just trying to cheer me up.”

  He stopped dancing and spread his hands. “That’s what I do? I make people feel better. Is that so bad? Does that make me a bad person?”

  She waved at him to stop that kind of talk. “Shubh-shubh! Say auspicious things.”

  “Maatr,” he said, coming closer and kneeling before her. “I am telling you that I am happy, happier than any other son in the world today. Do you know why?”

  He waited for her to respond. She laughed at his patience and shook her head. “No, why?”

  “Because,” he said solemnly, “Not only do I have the most wonderful mother and father in the world, I have two of them! Can you believe it? Who has two of the most wonderful fathers and mothers in the whole world? I do. And that’s what I came to tell you, Nanda-Maharaja and Yashoda-Devi are here!”

  Devaki started. “Here? Where are they?”

  “Outside your chambers, waiting to be called in.”

  Devaki’s hand flew to her mouth, covering it in embarrassment. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

  He shrugged. “You were busy crying and feeling sorry for me. Are you sorry for me now?”

  She waved at him. “Silly boy, you should have told me right away. How can we keep them waiting outside. Send them in at once.”

  He turned to go.

  “Wait,” she cried, “just a moment, at least let me arrange my face! What will they think if they see me crying like this?”

  He grinned. “That you have the most miserable son in the world, burdened by the whole universe’s problems!”

  She waved at him again. “You’re a rascal, Krishna!”

  “But a lovable one. And I’m your little rascal, remember!” He grinned and left the chamber.

  Devaki used the brief respite to fix her face and garments as best as possible. She still still adjusting herself when the sound of voices preceded Yashoda and Nanda’s entrance. Vasudeva accompanied them as well.

  “My friends,” she said, embracing and greeting each of them in turn. “How wonderful to see you!”

  Vasudeva explained. “They are here for the shift to the new city. Krishna said they could travel with us if we wished. I agreed at once.”

  “And we are so glad you did,” Yashoda said warmly. “Since the day we left here, not a day has passed when we did not wish we were here again.”

  Nanda smiled wanly. “I envy you, Devaki-devi. You have Krishna with you all day all the time. That is a great privilege.”

  She smiled and joined her palms to him. “And you had him for 15 years, Nanda-Maharaj. At least grant me this time with him now.”

  They all laughed. Krishna came forward and put his hands around both his mothers. “Yashoda-Maatr, tell me honestly and don’t you tell a white lie just for the sake of anyone’s feelings!”

  Yashoda laughed. She had put on some weight since the time she had parted from Krishna and now she looked even more matronly than ever. “I shall try. What do you wish to know, son?”

  “Devaki maatr here thinks that I am the most miserable, the most burdened, the most struggling son in all existence. Tell me, is it truly so?”

  Yashoda laughed aloud. “Krishna? He is the happiest boy in all creation! I doubt that a happier child ever existed.” She looked at her adopted son and pinched his cheek. He made a face but did not pull away. “I too spent many sleepless nights thinking that it was such a burden for a small child such as he was back then to be fighting asuras and struggling on a daily basis merely to survive, as well as having to take responsibility for the welfare of so many others. But then I realized something, Devaki-devi. Do you you know what I realized?”

  Devaki shook her head, curious.

  Yashoda went on. “I realized that Krishna was most in his element when he was doing his dharma. Whether that meant fighting, playing, making music or…” she wagged a finger admonishingly at Krishna, “breaking gopi’s hearts! He is a doer. A maryada purshottam. To be given a life-task and then to devote himself to fulfilling that task is what makes him Krishna.”

  Devaki nodded, but still looked a little uncertain. “Yes, but other boys seek success in their given profession. Or seek their fortune. Or merely live a good life as a grihasta, loving their wives and children. Others meditate and seek enlightenment. Krishna’s life is entirely devoted to the service of humanity. And that entails constant struggle, strife, battles, fights, violence, war…He has no time to simply live.” She looked at Krishna sadly. “Or love.”

  Yashoda nodded. “What you say is true, I cannot deny the truth. Yet think about it, Devaki-devi. Which life does not have struggle in it? A warrior fights too. Yet he mostly fights for his own survival, or at best for a cause or an employer. Krishna fights for the most honorable reason of all: to serve and protect others. What could be more satisfying? Violence is a terrible thing but he does not initiate it. He is the most peace-loving person on earth. Left to himself, he would only be troubling calves and playing his flute and chasing gopis all day long…”

  “…And all night too,” Balarama said from somewhere behind them, half-whispering mischievously.

  “…Instead he chooses to serve the people, the world, and dharma constantly, tirelessly. This is an onerous task. But it is also a noble one. Who says that we cannot find pleasure in serving others? Who says that to undertake responsibilities is only a burden? Why should the service of humanity be a chore, a labor? It is driven by love and affection. Krishna does all this because he loves all humanity, every living creature on this earth. He is no different from a warrior going to war to protect his family, except that we are all Krishna’s family. Every woman is his mother, sister or cousin, every man his brother, father or uncle. He earns rich rewards for what he does. I saw that the first time he displayed his godlike powers. When the evil Putana tried to poison him with her own milk. He did not merely slay her, Devaki. He danced upon her body! Not to celebrate her death but to celebrate his own life. The arrival of a new era. And today, as he takes us to this new city for our safekeeping, he is dancing a new dance again. And it is our honor that we have the opportunity to dance with him!”

  Devaki’s eyes brimmed with tears that spilled and rolled down her cheeks. She embraced her sister-Yadava. “Sister Nanda, you have shown me how wrong I was. You are right. I was wrong to think that Krishna only does what he does out of responsibility or duty or a sense of dharma. He does it because…”

  “…Because I love you,” Krishna said, putting his arms out to include all in the room—“every last one of you. You are all Bhoodevi to me, Mother Earth. And to protect you and serve you is not my burden or responsibility. It is my joy and passion and pride.”

  He smiled and indicated the doorway. “And now, if you will permit me, it is time for me to serve my people once again. Come!”

  19

  Across Mathura, people experienced a strange transformation. It was similar to the way one felt while meditating deeply, that exalted s
tate of consciousness between dreaming and awakening. Impatient children stopped fidgeting, grew still, and stared up in wonderment, old people suffering from ailments grew calm and serene, and even the animals stopped making sounds and yawned widely or stopped panting. Everyone looked around and saw the very air glowing, motes of dust floating in what appeared to be a magical light that suffused everything.

  Some found they could see into other people’s bodies and beyond them, some felt they could see all the way to distant worlds, viewing the terrain and life forms of those other planets as if they were merely next door, and a few, very few, felt they could glimpse great scenes of creation and destruction, the beginning and ends of worlds and time itself.

  Then everything blurred. The world seemed to shake, rattle and roll like marbles in a tin can. A tremendous burring sound grew from nowhere, and the earth, furniture, buildings, ground, everything began vibrating with great intensity. The vibrating and burring sound and shaking and rattling and rolling increased until the intensity was too much to bear.

  People closed their eyes, animals too, and only babes continued to gaze up in adoration and awe, some newborns gurgling and trying to point at specters only their innocent eyes could behold.

  The phenomena continued unabated for what seemed like several minutes. Nobody knew what was happening or what the outcome would be but everyone sensed that the best thing to do was to stay still and wait it out, like an earthquake. A few began to panic. Before they could do something rash, a voice spoke in all minds, human, animal, insect and bird alike, reassuring and authoritative:

  Do not fear. no harm will come to you. This will pass. It is no more than the shakti of yoga building up sufficiently to transport us all. Never before in the history of life has the power of yoga been used to transport such a great multitude. Yet, have faith in me and all shall be well.

  At the sound of Krishna’s voice in their minds, everyone grew calm. They waited as the vibration and shaking continued to increase in intensity until it reached a level that felt as if every cell in their beings was being shaken, the very matter within that cell shaken, as if Krishna had grasped them all in a giant fist and was rattling them all like a handful of bone dice. Nobody could bear to look anymore, for the effect was too dizzying and every living creature shut his or her or its eyes and waited, praying silently.

  And then, with a great sighing sound, everything faded away.

  All was calm once more.

  The ground was still, the sound of rattling furniture was gone, the burring sound ceased, the blurring of vision ended, the glowing air and motes of light gone.

  And everyone opened their eyes and saw a miracle had come to pass.

  20

  Svayam Bhagawan was the term that best described Krishna, and by extension, his half-brother Balarama as well, for they were one and the same being, black and white aspects of the same cosmic essence. God Incarnate. Choosing to remain fettered by the limitations of the mortal form, nevertheless he was capable of extraordinary feats. He had already proven this through his survival at birth, the numerous encounters with asuras, his spectacular defeat of Kamsa on the wrestling field, and of course, his prowess in battle against the forces of Jarasandha. But when the denizens of Mathura opened their eyes that day, they saw the full extent of what Krishna’s godliness could accomplish upon the mortal plane. A miracle it was, no other word could come close to describing it.

  And its name was Dwarka.

  A fortress-kingdom in the middle of the ocean. Seen from above, as by the wondering eyes of ocean birds who had never seen the likes of it before, it was an island miles in length and breadth. Circumvented on all sides by the greatest moat of all—the vast ocean herself—it was a perfect circle, great vaulting walls rising sheer against the buffeting tides. The walls descended far below, into the very depths of the ocean itself and below the floor of that great body of water, where its massive foundations rested upon a bedrock so dense and impenetrable that no foe possessed the power to attempt to invade it from below or without. The walls themselves were hundreds of feet high, high enough and strong enough to withstand the fiercest oceanic storms, quakes, tsunamis or tidal waves. Dozens of yards thick, they formed great ramparts upto which the Yadavas could ascend through stairwells and tunnels, then stand up and observe any oncoming vessels or invaders from a distance of tens of yojanas before they approached. No siege machine ever built could assault those great walls, nothing built by mortal hands could reach over those vaulting ramparts. The very sight of those enormous defenses would strike despair into any insolent invader: even a vast armada could not stay at sea forever, and there were limits to how many men and animals could be brought within range successfully, let alone kept at sea long enough to attempt a siege, let alone succeed. All Jarasandha’s elephants, camels, horses, chariots, and other animal-based forces would be futile here. His soldiers would sicken and waste away during a long siege, while the defenders within were self-sufficient and could survive forever without needing to leave the island fortress.

  But most of all, so remote and distant from any land body was the island kingdom that nobody could possibly know where it lay, let alone find it even if they searched for decades. Krishna had deliberately chosen a location that lay out of the paths of all the tidal currents that wayfaring ships might use to travel on the high seas, that did not fall in the way of any wind currents or seasonal breezes. Whether driven by oars or sail, no ship could come to this precise location without defying the necessary rules of oceanic travel, by sailing at a near-impossible angle to the wind, or rowing against a powerful intercontinental tide that would even a thousand strong oarmen could not resist for more more than a few hours. And all this was supposing they knew the exact location of the island, which was itself unlikely if not impossible. If this impossible feat of locating the island was accomplished, then the equally impossible task of bringing a force sizable enough to besiege the fortress also achieved, the besiegers would then be faced with the impenetrable defenses. And even if, by some miracle of their own, or through asura maya, they broke through—laughable even as a thought, but still conceivable—they would still have to contend with the might of the Yadava nation, forced to fight to the death to defend their homes and families, and most of all, the might of Krishna and Balarama unleashed.

  Which fool exists that would even dare to conceive of such a siege?

  As daunting an example of military genius as the island-fortress was on the outside, it was just as fabulous an example of city building within.

  Tvasta’s art involved studying the shilpa manuals which recorded all that was known about architecture, city-building, home-building, and allied knowledge since the beginning of the Yadava race, then to apply that vast knowledge base to the given task at hand. At the first sight of the island from Krishna’s flying chariot, he had gasped, marveling at the audacity of even conceiving to build a city in this impossible location, unable to even comprehend the godlike power required to do such a thing. Then, the first rush of wonderment faded as his artistic mind instinctively began to visualize the city that could be built here. Visions of great avenues lined by enormous leafy trees, immaculate gardens quilted with flowers, houses, mansions, palaces…everything flooded his mind’s eye like a memory of the future. In that instant, the entire plan of Dwarka formed in his consciousness, complete and perfect down to the last detail, as if his mind saw the city itself already built and flourishing upon that desolate rocky mass in the ocean.

  And Krishna had placed a hand upon his shoulder and said warmly in his ear: “It is splendid. I approve the design. Now build it as you see it.”

  Tvasta had started, astonished that Krishna could read his mind, then awed that Krishna would approve of his fleeting vision, then dismayed at the thought of even attempting such a task. “How, my Lord? It is far beyond my meagre talents.”

  Krishna had smiled that famous mischievous smile, the impish one that made the women of Mathura sigh so deeply, his black
eyes dancing with amusement. “Nothing is beyond the reach of talent. Build it. And the rest will be provided.”

  And now, here it was.