Since it's Krishna's birthday I couldn't help but write his birth story. So here y'all go, you're welcome. Oh also fun fact about Janmashtami : it always rains tonight. It might be just a drizzle, but it always rains tonight.
Devaki’s screams rent the air as she pushed and kept pushing. This was the eighth time she was giving birth to someone. The prison guards could hardly be bothered, and instead laughed at her like hyenas, their mere gazes leaving marks on her skin. Vasudev covered the prison bars with a flimsy cloth, and went back to assist his wife.
She was crying when Vasudev returned back. He bent down by her side, supporting her, and was about to go in front to assist with the delivery when Devaki squeezed his hand and stopped him. Panting, she said, “I don’t know if I want this child Vasudev.” Vasudev was stunned upon Devaki’s proclamation. She had given birth seven times, all sons, and six times had watched them being murdered by her own brother, the brother who had loved her more than any brother could love a sister. The seventh time, Vasudev had quietly given the baby to his first wife Rohini and instructed her to head to Gokul, where his friend Nanda lived. They had simply lied to Kansa and cited that Devaki had miscarried.
How cruel fate was. The couple had watched six of their children murdered in front of them in cold blood, not even a day old. The seventh, they did not know of his fate. Of his first words or his favourite food or the way he laughed. And yet, this eighth child carried hope. This child would be their salvation. Devaki continued “I cannot bear to watch another child snatched away like that Vasudev. Please I’d rather this child die on my womb, or I die while giving birth so at least I don’t have to watch him die. Please Vasudev, I cannot do this anymore” cried Devaki, tears raining down her once lustrous bronze skin, her once luxurious locks lying limp and lifeless by her side like her soul. “No Devaki. I cannot imagine the pain you endure, each time you push another life from inside you, but know this – this child is our salvation. This child is the reason six of our children were murdered. This child is the reason we sent our seventh son into hiding. This child is the reason we have wasted away in this prison for years. Devaki this child must live. Our child must live to avenge the deaths of our children. To avenge us. This child must live if the universe carries even a shred of mercy for us. For Devaki I would sooner kill both of us than watch another child tortured by your brother.” Vasudev’s eyes burned with an intensity Devaki hadn’t seen in a long time. Most of the time they were sad or scared, reminiscing their past. Their married bliss had ended the day it began, with her brother imprisoning them over a prophecy. Vasudev’s words breathed new life into Devaki. She would not let this child die. She would live. She would make sure the child lived. And she would make sure she heard her brother whimpering in agony as her child crushed his skull open.
The gods had given a prophecy. Devaki and Vasudev’s eighth child would be the death of Kansa. And Devaki did not want to prove the gods as petty liars.
With a final push and a scream, that was thankfully masked by a loud thunderclap, Devaki expelled her child out. Vasudev cut the umbilical cord with a flint stone he had dipped in cheap somaras which he had stolen from the guards yesterday, and cradled the child in his arms, lying beside Devaki, giving this child his parents’ touch one final time, the shared breath and heat warming him. He was dark, dark as the rainclouds that had gathered over the entirety of Brijbhumi that day, as the moonlit night that held secrets and wonder. A small glow emanated from his body, barely lighting his immediate surroundings. The couple kept looking at their son, prerplexed, and the baby looked back at them. He had big soft eyes, and instead of crying, he just looked up at them and gave a small laugh, reaching to grab his mother’s hair. Devaki’s tears fell on his face, as she kissed his forehead and hugged him tight. She then looked at Vasudev, and they understood what had to be done. Vasudev took the baby, and opened his prison door. Turns out if you get drunk with the guards ever so often, they don’t notice things like missing keys.
Vasudev stepped out, and half thought that he and his son were going to be hacked into pieces, but the entire cellar was quiet. The whole world seemed to hold its breath, time itself felt suspended. Only minutes ago the guards were cackling, and yet they now slept a deep slumber. Vasudev quickly stole a dagger, and placed the baby in the laundromat’s basket, covering him with a heavy warm cloth. He exited the prison quarters and entered into Indra’s wrath. The clouds overhead boomed with thunder, and rain covered everything as far as the eye could see. Unperturbed, Vasudev kept walking eastwards, until he reached the Yamuna. He looked for a boat, searching the banks of the usually idyllic river, which now coursed with the strength and vigour of the mighty Saraswati, and yet found no boat to carry him and his son. Time was running out, and his son’s life outweighed a safe passage for him, he could already imagine Kansa’s men running towards him. Vasudev then did the only thing he could – let the river decide his life. He walked into the river, determined to reach the other side. The yojana wide river divided Mathura and its outskirts from the countryside – where his son was to find sanctuary. Vasudev kept walking, and the Yamuna’s waters kept rising and rising. The heavy rain pelted Vasudev, and he kept his swaddled baby on his head in his basket. The spaces between the bamboo basket refused water from filling in. Somehow, he reached the middle, when he felt the water threatening to reach his chin, the river hell bent on drowning him and his son. No mere river was going to stop the descendant of the mighty Shuri, the prince of the Vrishnis today though. Vasudev held his breath and kept swimming forward, the basket safely above the surface of water. Surprisingly, there were no crocodiles in the river. Vasudev had only swam a bit further when the river level started lowering and lowering, until it reached his waist. Vasudev was perplexed, the river was usually the deepest at this point, then why did it suddenly lower down to below his waist? Lost in his thoughts, Vasudev almost missed the giant creature slithering towards him, and that is when he realized he and his infant son were about to be devoured by a sea monster that liked toying with its prey. The creature reached Vasudev, its smooth obsidian scales emitting a green glow, extending to its full length, spreading out its thousand hoods and shielding Vasudev and his son from the merciless rain. Had he not known better, Vasudev would’ve thought it was Adi Shesha, the thousand hooded snake, upon whose infinite coils Narayana rested. Time was running out, and Vasudev picked up speed, the serpentine creature slithering along. Climbing out of the river, he kept picking through the wilderness and hamlets, the creature’s presence scaring off any hungry predators.
At last, Vasudev glimpsed the village of Gokul. Overjoyed, Vasudev rushed down the hillock, which was dotted here and there by the occasional cow. He entered the safety of the village, his frayed nerves calming down, and started searching for Nanda’s home. Even though he was the village chief, his house was tough to spot, the only thing differentiating it from others was a larger gateway and a bigger courtyard. Surprisingly, Nanda was already standing at the gates, waiting for him. Vasudev rushed up to him, and began to speak when Nanda asked, “Vasudev, how did you come here? How are you barely wet?” Vasudev looked behind him, and found the creature had returned. Maybe it was scared of society? “There’s no time for that Nanda. I have come to entrust my last son to you,” said Vasudev, as he hastened to enter Nanda’s home. There was a lantern in front of each room, and the large house was empty except for the cows in the outside stables. Vasudev kept searching along the corridor, until he found Nanda’s wife’s room. He expected to see his elder son sleeping with her, but instead found her snoring loudly, with a baby lying beside her. Vasudev quietly placed his son beside her. The baby started crying, clutching onto his father even as he laid him on the bed. Vasudev quietly removed his hand from his grip, and sang him a lullaby. It was about a bee returning to its hive after a busy day in the meadow. He had never got a chance to sing this lullaby before. Devaki and he and spent each day perfecting it in prison. The baby quietened and went to sleep, and Vasudev left, his vision blurry, when he was stopped by Nanda. “Wait here.” he said. Nanda then returned from his wife’s room, his baby with him, and handed it over to Vasudev. “Here you go Vasudev. You may take my daughter home with you.” Vasudev looked at Nanda with disgust. Was his friend so lowly that in favour of a son he would condemn his daughter to the confines of a prison, frequented by a monster that would kill her the moment he got to know? “I know what you were thinking, and I would never do that Vasu” said Nanda, sensing his friend’s thoughts. “Yashoda gave birth to her yesterday, and hasn’t seen her since. I took her to Goddess Gauri’s temple the same day, to seek her blessings. I can’t explain what happened Vasu, but I heard Gauri. She spoke to me and she instructed me to give her to you when you came. Why do you think I was waiting for you outside?” “Oh come on Nanda, you’re just making up stories now.” said Vasudev, even more repulsed now. “Why would I lie Vasu? Is this what you think of me, a murderer? Trust me Vasu, Gauri Devi spoke to me, she told me to give my daughter to you! Who are we to defy the will of the gods?” Nanda reassured him.
“The gods don’t care about us Nanda. They stopped existing for me when they made me watch my sons’ heads being bashed against walls or crushed by hammers. But even so I will take your daughter. Maybe Kansa might spare a girl?”
Saying so, Vasudev took Nanda’s daughter and vanished into the night, heading back to his prison. Even though the babe wasn’t his, he had already named her – Maya – after this night, an illusion, a reality that felt like a dream. He did not know what fate awaited this girl, but at least his boy was safe for now.
Maybe the gods did have a plan. A plan that was tucked away under Yashoda’s arms in the tiny hamlet of Gokul, snuggling against the only mother he would ever know.
