The Divine Childhood

By the advice of his counsellors, the Tyrant Kansa, knowing that his future slayer had been born, and was living somewhere within the dominions of Mathura, determined now to send out his emis-saries for the killing of all new-born children, everywhere. And he had under his command powerful beings of his own kindred, known as demons, or Asuras, who were able to assume any shape at will, and could fly through the sky.

Some of these therefore he sent forth secretly for the slaughter of innocent babes, throughout his dominion. And it came to pass that one evening, as the shadows grew long, the Vampire-nurse Putana, who was one of them, having wandered through cities, villages, and forests, de-stroying infants, arrived at Gokool. And the form which she assumed to enter the place was that of a woman so resplendent in beauty, that the people supposed her to be some goddess, come to offer worship and benediction at the cradle of their chieftain's son. Going hither and thither as she would, secretly observing the youngest of the children, Putana came finally to the great house of the village, that of Nanda, and entering found the Child Krishna. As she bent over Him, to take Him into her arms, the Babe saw and understood her real nature, and closed His eyes; and in that moment she lifted Him. But the women who were sitting or standing near suspected no evil. They noticed only the apparent sweetness and beauty of the stranger, and never dreamt that this was in truth the dreaded Vampire-nurse, whose caress was death to all babies, and her heart like a sharp sword encased in a hard scabbard. A moment later, and with many endearments, she had begun to feed the child. Now the breast of Putana was full of deadly poison. But the Babe only touched her with His little mouth, apparently giving a single gentle tug, as babies do, and lo! the very life of the witch was drawn out of her. With a loud cry of rage she fell to the earth, and as she did so, all her beauty dropped away from her, and showed itself to have been only a disguise. Every one, hearing the yell of the dying Vampire, hastened to the spot, but there lay the Divine Child laughing and kicking, as if He never guessed that by a touch of His mysterious strength, the enemy of children had been slain! But when the news reached Kansa, of the death of his messenger, and the Child that could not be killed, he became sure that Krishna was that very Babe of whom the voice had spoken, and he determined to leave no stone unturned to compass His death.

Never was mortal woman happier than Yasoda, wife and queen of Nanda, and foster-mother of Krishna. Day after day, as the months went by, she held Him in her lap, and fed and played with Him, or soothed Him gently to sleep. For what was He, after all, but a baby? Not even by her, as yet, was it suspected what was His great strength, or Who He was. One day she was called away for something, and before going, she turned and laid the Child down on the ground, in the shadow of a disused bullock-cart. It had long stood idle, and had come to be used as a sort of dairy-table, for it was covered now with great jars containing milk for butter and curds. These in their turn were protected from dust with grass and leaves, and over the whole were the bamboo mats that acted as the waggon hood. Here, then, in the shadow lay the Babe, and about Him, in the farmyard, played other children. And now did the Demon Shakat enter into the cart, thinking it would be easy to fall and crush the Infant, by a seeming accident. But the little one who lay there was the Lord Himself! Nothing could deceive or baffle Him. At the very instant when the waggon began to break, He gave a kick with His tiny foot, and lo! the cart, with all that stood on it, was thrown to the other side of the farmyard, and Shakat-Asur, the demon, was killed. Hearing the noise, people came in astonishment from every part of the farm, and great was their happiness to find the Babe still living. But when they heard from the rest how it had happened, what were they to believe? He was as yet too young even to creep about. Only Yasoda, clasping her Heart's-Joy tight between tears and laughter, felt that there was something here beneath the surface, that they none of them understood. Strange dangers threatened the life of her little one. Wondrous wisdom and strength were hidden within Him. These things to her, His mother, it was easy to accept.

One day, as she nursed Him with all her tenderness, she suddenly felt Him grow as heavy as a mountain, and was obliged to lay Him on the ground. At that very moment, a great black cloud enwrapped them both for an instant, and when it passed on, she saw the Babe Krishna rising higher and higher above her, clinging, as it seemed, to the very throat of a whirlwind. In agony watched the mother, while all about Gokool the air grew black with storm and dust. On swept the hurricane, yet with course impeded, as it seemed, by the weight of the Being it struggled to carry. Moments passed of terrible suspense, in which the distracted mother and weeping women of the village ran hither and thither, as if to find or catch the Boy. Then there came a lull, and down, down, down, into the midst of Gokool, fell the Demon of the Hurricane, with his Baby-Destroyer still holding him by the throat!

Yasoda, indeed, had many curious experiences, and found much to ponder over. When her little Son was old enough to crawl about on all-fours, He became very difficult to keep in order. He would constantly besmear Himself with mud, and even put earth to His lips and eat it. So His gentle foster-mother was compelled to be angry and punish Him. Then the Child cried, but as He opened His mouth, she, watching Him, seemed to be smitten into a trance, for she saw there revealed, as if within Him, all the worlds, in all their manifold gradations of existence. The whole infinite Universe within that one Babe Krishna! And the mortal, unable to bear the revelation, closed her eyes, trembling, till the kind gods drew over her sight once more the veil of illusion, and she was able to look upon the Divinity before her as if He were nothing but her Son.

The little hands were busy with everything. There was no keeping this rogue out of mischief. So one day, when Yasoda was at work about the house, she tied about the Child a long rope, which was attached, at its other end, to an old and broken axle of a cart-wheel; and thus protected, left Him to play alone. Not far off stood two ancient trees, with a tiny gap between them. But Yasoda, leaving Him, had no fear for her Baby, for His tether was long and the axle heavy. He could play and scramble and crawl, she thought, to His naughty little heart's content, and yet never be able to move very far from where she had put Him.

This was reckoning, however, without her host; for when no one was near, crawling here and crawling there, the child actually managed to creep between the two great trees! Then on and on He went, dragging His rope and its axle after Him, till at last the weight was wedged tightly in the gap. At this He gave a slight jerk, and suddenly, without more ado, those two lords of the forest fell with a crash, and Krishna near by, on His hands and knees, was found laughing quietly, not the least afraid!

But now a strange thing befell. Out of those trees, in the presence of every one—for all had run to see what was happening, thinking, in fact, that a thunderbolt had fallen—came two bright spirits, telling how for ages they had lain im-prisoned there beneath a spell, that could only be lifted by the touch of the Lord. Then they offered salutations, and worshipped the Liberator of Souls, before they disappeared.

Another day, after the Child had begun to toddle, a woman came to the farmstead with fruit to sell, and Krishna, desiring to have some, ran into the house, and returned to her, carrying the necessary handful of rice, but letting it stream out in all directions between His open fingers. The fruit-seller was so pleased with the look of the Child, and so touched with His feeble effort to pay her justly, that she insisted on giving Him all the fruit He wanted, and could hardly be persuaded to take anything in return. Her scruples, however, were overcome, and she consented to accept the little one's offering, when behold, as He poured the remaining rice into the knotted corner of her veil—tied like a bag for the carrying of it—each grain, touching the cloth, became a jewel!

Another of the little fellow's tricks was to make His way into the dairies of His village friends and help Himself, on behalf of His friends the monkeys and birds, to cream and butter and other good things. Every one liked Him to do this, yet they felt that it would never do to let Krishna grow up a thief! So the dairy-wives came in a body, and complained to Yasoda. Then Yasoda scolded Him, and at last took her churning-rope to tie the little hands together. But her whole churning-rope was two finger-lengths too short to make a knot about the wrists of her Boy! Then she found another, and tying them together, tried again, then another, and another, and another. But it was all to no purpose. All the ropes of the farmhouse, added to one another, were not long enough to tie the hands of the Lord of the Universe. Then a great awe fell upon Yasoda, and she began to feel the vision of the Universe stealing over her again. But the Child, seeing that His mother was tired, hunting here and there for ropes, and trying to tie His hands, submitted Himself, and became good, and immediately one rope was found enough with which to fasten the little wrists.

And so the time passed, till He was seven or eight years of age. Then the cowherds moved away from Gokool to the forests of Brindaban. And Krishna, being now joined by His elder brother Bolarama, was allowed to go daily to the pastures with the other lads tending their father's herds.