Krishnavatara I: The Magic Flute Page 2

  Kamsa laughed and exclaimed: ‘Master, law or no law, nothing shall stand in my way. I have no fear of God; He is only a phantom with which to frighten the weak. And I am strong. My will is supreme law; I accept no other. And I will force everyone to obey it.’

  Narada, the divine Sage, smiled indulgently as only the wise can.

  ‘The law of dharma, my son, is unalterable. No one, not even you, can escape it. Remember, whenever righteousness declines, God Himself comes down to the earth to re-establish it,’ the Sage said.

  Kamsa laughed haughtily. ‘Sage, neither man nor God dare cross my path.”

  ‘Are you so sure of yourself? If you are, you are doomed. It has been so decreed by the gods,’ said the Sage, for his eyes had seen the rise and fall of wicked men age after age.

  ‘Who will dare touch me?’ asked Kamsa in scorn.

  The Sage meditated in silence for a while. Then he said: ‘Prince, proud though you are of your might, I know that He has willed your destruction. The eighth child of Devaki, the daughter of your uncle, will slay you.’ The Sage vanished before Kamsa could reply.

  Though his father Ugrasena was king, Kamsa himself ruled Mathura. The neighbouring kings, as did all his subjects and theirs, trembled at his name, for no one was able to resist him. The prophecy of the divine Sage, therefore, made him furious.

  At the very time when his death was foretold by the Sage Narada, Devaki was just being married to Vasudeva. Kamsa was mad with rage. He was going to leave nothing to chance; he would kill Devaki here and now; no child of hers would be there to fulfil the prophecy.

  So, fiery-eyed, Kamsa strode towards the palace gates where the marriage procession was ready to start. The men and women joyfully forming the procession saw Kamsa coming, cruel as the god of Death. They stood terrified. The drums stopped beating. The fifes and the conchs were silent.

  Kamsa angrily walked up to the bridal chariot. To the horror of his royal father and the noble kinsmen who stood there, Kamsa seized Devaki by the hair and pulled her out of the chariot.

  A moment before, the newly-wedded bride, bedecked with ornaments and glowing with hopes, had been all joy. Now as she was dragged down from the chariot by Kamsa, a scream of horror escaped her lips.

  King Ugrasena, who knew the wild temper of his son, was moved to grief at what his son was doing and stood stupefied. Vasudeva, the young Yadava prince, jumped down from the chariot and seized the hand of Kamsa which held an uplifted sword.

  ‘Most noble Prince, scion of Bhoja’s glorious line, what are you doing?’ he asked in amazement, adding, ‘You are killing your sister, a helpless young girl, just married.’

  ‘Stand aside,’ Kamsa shouted, as he tried to cast off Vasudeva, and his eyes were wild with fury.

  Devaka, brother of King Ugrasena, laid a restraining hand on Kamsa. ‘Son let Devaki go’, he said: ‘What has she done to you? Let her go.’

  Kamsa stamped his foot imperiously. ‘I will not let her live. She shall die.’

  Vasudeva was wise beyond his years. He had grown up under the shadow of Kamsa’s power and knew the futility of resisting the Prince when he was in an angry mood. With folded hands, therefore, he thus besought Kamsa. ‘Noblest of Bhojas, listen to me. Why are you so angry with us?’

  ‘I had a warning from the gods,’ said Kamsa, his eyes rolling in brutal ferocity. ‘They say that Devaki’s eighth child is going to kill me. I am going to see that that does not happen.’

  Vasudeva knew that there was no one in that vast assembly who could stand between Kamsa and his fiery will.

  ‘Noblest of men, is that all?’ he folded his hands and said, ‘The gods never said that there was danger to you from this poor girl. Why kill her? The prophecy, as you say, was that her eighth child would kill you. I am your loyal kinsman, pledged to protect you against all danger. Let Devaki live, I solemnly promise you that I will present you every son of hers the moment he is born. Then you can do as you like with him, and the prophecy will not be fulfilled.’

  Kamsa glared at his father, his uncle, at the terrified Devaki and at his kinsmen who stood aghast and griefstricken. He was shrewd and crafty and saw the unwisdom of turning the Yadavas, who looked resentful, against him. So he decided to let Devaki live.

  ‘I shall let Devaki live only on one condition,’ he said. ‘Take the wedding procession to the Gajaraja palace. It will be guarded day and night by my trusted men. Vasudeva, I shall hold you to your promise.’ Every child of Devaki, as soon as it is born, shall be handed over to me. Remember this; make no mistake about it; I will not let a single child of yours live, whatever happens.’

  3. KAMSA MAKES A PLAN

  The Shooras as well as their allies, the Satwats and the Kukkuras, felt deeply humiliated at the incarceration of Vasudeva and Devaki, and that too on their wedding day. The Andhakas, the clan of which King Ugrasena was the chief, also felt disturbed by the barbarous conduct of their prince.

  And so it came to pass that this dissatisfaction soon led to sullen resentment against Kamsa. A few months after, he heard from his spies that the dissatisfaction was growing. The high-souled Yadavas were discussing among themselves not only what he had done to the Chief of the Shooras, but all his wicked doings. The women also were furious. They felt that the sufferings of Devaki were their own, and that not one of them could escape such a fate, and even worse, should Kamsa decree it.

  Kamsa, however, was not frightened by this growing resentment. He felt that the crowd was being presumptuous, and decided to crush all who opposed or criticized him. He would destroy them all, hip-and thigh, he said to himself, and called his loyal adherents to a secret conclave.

  Kamsa’s henchmen were a strange group of men. They were drawn not only from the Yadava tribes but also from those whose ways were evil. Most of them respected no law, divine or human. They lived at Kamsa’s expense and did whatever he commanded and moved among the people only to keep them in constant dread. In his name, they beat or imprisoned those whom they counted disloyal. They also destroyed families and often stole women to satisfy his or their lust.

  Kamsa, with rising fury, heard the reports which they made to him. They said, ‘The Yadavas speak of our noble lord’s deeds as barbarous and wicked. They have sympathy only for Vasudeva and Devaki. Time and again they have approached King Ugrasena to complain about our lord’s misdeeds. The old King is weak and is always ready to listen to complaints against our lord.’

  Putana was the wife of the chief of Kamsa’s advisers. She made it her business to know what the Yadava women felt and talked about Kamsa. She was a stalwart, ferocious woman, and had an offensive manner, all her own. Kamsa liked her more than his other agents, for he knew that she was the only one among them who, unafraid, reported the naked truth.

  ‘The Yadava women, every one of them, hate you, master,’ she said. ‘They bear you such ill-will that they encourage their men-folk to conspire against you. Their sympathies are all for Devaki. The more you persecute her and Vasudeva, the more they love them. They have heard of the prophecy and are even looking forward to her eighth child to redeem the Yadava race.’

  Kamsa sat pulling at his moustache in suppressed anger. Having heard his agents he made up his mind to teach the Yadavas a lesson, and a diabolical scheme started brewing in his mind.

  A few days later Kamsa went to the forest of Agravan to hunt. Then he paid a visit to Bhauma, the ruler of a little principality on the outskirts of Vrajabhumi. Kamsa and Bhauma had been friends since their boyhood. With Bana, the ruler of another adjoining principality, they had lived as students in the ashrama of Galava Rishi and by their wild tricks kept the inmates of the ashrama in constant dread. So greatly did they harass the ashrama that the Guru had been forced to request King Ugrasena to withdraw his son from it.

  Since those days Kamsa had developed a hatred of men devoted to learning who had taken a vow of non-possession, because they attempted to be a law unto themselves. The three friends had remained bound in close friendship
even after they grew up.

  Bhauma and Bana had never outgrown their admiration for their bold and crafty leader. Now they were looking forward to the day when Kamsa, as the head of the Yadavas, would start on a career of conquest; that was their only hope of enlarging their small domains.

  During the days on which Kamsa was the guest of Bhauma, Bana joined them. When the three met, they talked about the happenings in Mathura. They were all agreed that the Yadavas who tried to raise their heads must be crushed. Something also had to be done to prevent Ugrasena from being the rallying-point of the malcontents. Kamsa all but hated his father, who by temperament was kind-hearted and by tradition looked upon his subjects as his children. ‘The old fool,’ said Kamsa, ‘always loves to see them come to him and never could deny himself the pleasure of interfering with my affairs.’

  Kamsa knew his own mind; he was determined to suppress all Yadava malcontents ruthlessly. This could only be done if he introduced among his people a hostile element completely subservient to him.

  Though he was heir to the leadership, the Yadavas were by instinct and tradition republican and peace-loving. Each clan loved its freedom. Naturally, therefore, they looked with distrust upon anyone who gathered power into his own hands; for that certainly meant war. This made Kamsa’s position weak. Some day he might be a king, but only in name, never in reality; he could never launch upon a campaign of conquest. Something drastic had, therefore, to be done if he was to enjoy absolute power. He needed powerful friends and, until he found them, he had to be wary and patient.

  The most formidable ruler of the day was King Jarasandha of Magadha. He was a great general. His powerful armies had been conquering neighbouring rulers and in war after war he had added other territories to Magadha. Within a few years he was likely to attain the imperial status of a Chakravarti.

  To Kamsa, Jarasandha was a hero whose deeds he wanted to emulate. Now that the time had come, he must take steps to achieve his goal. He would first help Magadha to win wars, if Jarasandha entered into a matrimonial alliance with him. In return Jarasandha was sure to help him acquire power over the Yadavas. And who knows? The King might die and fragments of his empire fall to his share!

  The plan so cunningly devised was put into action at once. Bana, a distant cousin of Jarasandha, joyfully went on a mission to win the hand of his daughter for Kamsa. He succeeded beyond their expectations. Kamsa, a few months later, was married to two of the daughters of the King of Magadha.

  When, after the wedding, the daughters of Jarasandha came to Mathura, they brought with them several Magadhan warriors, strong and fierce, who were pledged to support Kamsa against his own people. And Kamsa was longing for a war in order to break down the spirit of his people.

  4. AKRURA, THE SAINTLY

  When Kamsa was building up his strength, Vasudeva and Devaki were pining away in the solitude of the palace in which they were held captive.

  Vasudeva ceaselessly prayed to Lord Vishnu to deliver them from captivity.

  Vasudeva, prayed for a deliverer, and so did Devaki, invoking God’s Grace. She joined him in prayers and offered all the sacred vows which a noble wife should. But she had a desire of her own. She ardently wished to be the mother of the deliverer. Often at midnight she would awaken from her sleep, slip away from Vasudeva’s side and, with folded hands, and bowed head, pray ‘Lord, the Refuge of All, make me the mother of the deliverer.’ Often when she prayed in the early hours of the morning she would feel that her prayers were answered. And hope and faith buoyed her up during the anguished days and nights on which she was serving Vasudeva and helping him bear everything with courage.

  Soon after Kamsa returned to Mathura with the Magadhan princesses, Devaki was delivered of a son. The news spread among the Yadavas and they trembled at the horrible prospect of Vasudeva’s son being killed by Kamsa.

  Akrura, the young chieftain of the Vrishnis, one of the Yadava clans, was a righteous man who always walked in the path of Dharma. He was highly respected by the Yadavas and the leaders implored him to intervene and persuade Kamsa against carrying out his wicked resolution. To kill an innocent babe was the height of barbarity, they urged.

  Akrura agreed, and with several other chiefs, accompanied Vasudeva, when, true to his promise, he brought his first-born child to Kamsa.

  Kamsa, seated on his throne and surrounded by his trusted followers and a few armed Magadhan warriors, received them without ceremony. Akrura tried to persuade Kamsa not to pursue his brutal course. Vasudeva, with tears in his eyes, also begged him to spare the child.

  Akrura with folded hands said, ‘Have some mercy, I beg you, What has the child done to you? To kill an innocent baby is unbefitting, un-Aryan, sinful, The danger to you, if any, is from the eighth child of Devaki, not the first.

  ‘I want to make sure against all danger,’ replied Kamsa his brows knit.

  ‘A king should be like Vishnu of the Four Hands, Mercy Incarnate,’ said Vasudeva, pressing the child to his bosom.

  Kamsa heard them scornfully. Then he laughed a wicked, sinister laugh.

  ‘If your God is merciful, invoke His aid,’ retorted Kamsa. ‘I am not a God. I don’t want to be one. And I am not merciful.’

  Akrura and Vasudeva continued to plead for a long time, but in vain. Kamsa went on staring at them scornfully. When they had finished, he stood up, snatched the child from the hands of Vasudeva and dashed its head against the ground. The Yadavas present there burst into groans of horror.

  The Yadavas felt as if they had been struck by lightning when they heard the news that Kamsa had killed Vasudeva’s child. They did not know what to do or to whom to turn. At last the leaders went to the palace of King Ugrasena. Men wailed in grief, women beat their breasts. It was terrible. Something must be done to stop this savagery.

  King Ugrasena heard the recital of his son’s gruesome deed and tears fell from his eyes. With tottering steps, he proceeded to the palace of Kamsa to remonstrate with him.

  What happened between the father and the son, when they met, no one knew. But the King did not come out of Kamsa’s palace, and no one but his wives and chosen attendants could see him any more. He was now his son’s captive. The Yadavas were shocked as never before, for, by the law of the Aryans, a father should be a god to his son.

  The next day, Kamsa’s mercenaries spread terror in Mathura. The saintly Akrura was locked up in the same palace in which Vasudeva and Devaki were. The houses of the chieftains who had accompanied him were set on fire. The guards of the King’s palace were massacred. Men locked themselves up in their houses. Those who felt themselves to be singled out for punishment fled to town.

  As Kamsa drove through the town, his chariot surrounded by trusted horsemen, celebrating his triumph, he heard the shouts of his henchmen and the screams of their victims. As he thought of his revenge, he pulled at his moustache; the Yadavas were now receiving their due, he thought.

  In the palace which was their prison, Vasudeva sat in front of Devaki, as she lay on her bed, sobbing disconsolately. She was dry-eyed, for she had no strength even to shed tears. A cry of anguish arose from her desolate heart. ‘Lord, my Beloved, Thou Fountain Source of Mercy, send the deliverer and soon.’

  Akrura who was standing there gave them consolation: ‘Sufferings are the melting-pot of the Lord. Do not fear, Devaki.’

  To Vasudeva he said, ‘The deliverer will come, Vasudeva. The ways of the Lord are inscrutable. Glad tidings came to me four days ago. In a few days the venerable Muni Krishna Dvaipayana on his way to Indraprastha, will be halting here. He is the wisest among the wise and will show us some way.’

  Akrura, though young in years, was old in knowledge, and unshaken in his faith in God’s wisdom. And he was loved by the people of Mathura, whom he had always helped in their sorrow and distress.

  Kamsa’s spies brought him the report that the revolt had been suppressed. Many Yadava leaders had migrated to neighbouring territories with their families. Others had submitted to hi
s will, their spirits crushed. But everyone, even those who were loyal to him, felt unhappy about the injustice of punishing so saintly a person as Akrura.

  Kamsa was quite satisfied with what he had achieved at the first stroke and wanted popular feelings to subside. Therefore it would, he thought, be a good device to set Akrura free. People would forget their resentment in praising his clemency.

  Riders came from Bhishma, the great Kuru warrior. He was inviting Vasudeva to come to Indraprastha. Kamsa did not know what to reply. Bhishma was a formidable chief, who presided over the powerful empire of Hastinapura. To ignore his invitation would be to make an enemy of him. Kamsa could not find a way out of the difficulty. But he knew that Akrura was a favourite at Hastinapura, and might find some solution. And so Akrura was released from captivity.

  Akrura wanted no favour from the tyrant. He went home and sent away his family to Gokul, but himself stayed in Mathura to bring comfort to the afflicted. He went from house to house and listened with deep sympathy to the reports of the atrocities which had been committed by the emissaries of Kamsa. He helped them in whatever way he could, and he gave them what he had in abundance and what they needed most—faith in the Lord. He said to them, ‘Even our sufferings come from the Lord, for they are the furnace through which men must pass to come out as gold. But they will be able to pass, for sages have testified to what He has promised: ‘Those devoted to Me shall not perish.’

  And hope entered men’s hearts and gave them the courage to suffer and be strong.

  5. KAMSA’S PREDICAMENT

  When Akrura, the chief of the Vrishnis, was summoned by Kamsa to his palace, he was surprised to find the Prince crafty and even ingratiating.

  Kamsa said, ‘Akrura, I learn that this Krishna Dvaipayana Vyasa whom they call the Best of Munis is coming to Mathura tomorrow. You must know why he is coming. Tell me all about it. It must be something connected with the message which I received from Bhishma the Terrible. Do you know that he has sent messengers to fetch Vasudeva to Indraprastha?’