He was brawn, his biceps clasping his foe betwixt them as he thrashed him to the ground in a trice. His knuckles morphed white, blue-black curls which donned an iridescent peacock feather all the time bellowed at his outrage and danced upon his shoulders. His warm hazel eyes, which were oceans of compassion blazed like the dancing flames of fire, rage filling him at the mere sight of his imprisoned parents, at them from whom he had to part right after his birth.

A nine year old Satyabhama witnessed in awe, the glory of the son of Devaki, of whom she had harkened limitless narratives of. Of his bravery, his extraordinary strength and prowess at slaying demons which his own maternal uncle sent for the sole purpose of killing him right from his very first day in the world. The eleven and a half year old boy afore her chocolate eyes wasn't the cowherd of Vrindāvana, he was the Kāla of Kamsa and his tyranny at Mathurā. Vraja leela had come to a cease, and this was the commencement of his Mathura leela.

Gritting in his teeth, the immoral son of Ugrasena jumped to his feet and pounced upon his sororal nephew, desiring to push him to the ground with all his vitality, but to no avail. Satyabhama's Madhava stood like a bull among men, his feet on the ground as firm as his character and resolution. He was to be known as Yogeshvara after all, a title bestowed to him which made him the lord of yogis. Krishna was Leela Purushottama, the best among men.

"If you lose, my lovely nephew, then you die. And if I do, your guile parents and vicious grandfather will be pushed in the mouth of death, Krishna!" Kamsa sneered, reminding him the rules of this duel and casted a spontaneous glance on the executioners. "I'll kill you." every syllable he uttered dripped acid, his eyes now bloodshot.

"We shall see that, dearest uncle." Kanha scoffed, his eyes a swirling melange of his fury and the agony that sprang in him at the sight of his children who cried 'Trahi! Trahi!' over the years. Ugrasena, Devaki and Vasudeva, raised their palms in abhaya mudra, blessing the lord who bowed his head subtly, assuring them with a sempiternal seraphic smile. The shackled royals stood at a dais, awaiting to be guillotined the moment their Kanha would dispatch his vicious uncle to the afterlife.

Kamsa marred his face with a sickly scowl, growling as his nephew dodged his blow and twisted his arm, hauling him to the demesne once again. Krishna's clenched jaw twitched a muscle, the grim look on his face speaking of his ability of creation and destruction, his fierce form which the universe seldom witnessed.

Clasping her father's angavastram in her dainty fingers, Satyabhama concealed herself behind him, feeling her heart thump at the sight of a howling Kamsa as her curious eyes remained rooted to Kanha. Her eyes met his for a split second, and the daughter of Satrajita was swayed off her feet. She found in his eyes, a zephyr of his pure love kissing her heart. She knew that Bhudevi would forever belong to her Varahadeva, this form or the other. Much like how Hara-Gauri and Medha-Brahma belonged to each other alone - from the beginning of time, now and for the rest of eternity too.

'When have we ever parted, Bhamae?' he teased and she almost facepalmed at his mischief.

'Even at this time, hey Naatha?' The mystical curl of her lips and the scarlet of her cheeks were enough to amuse and confuse the merchant of Dvaraka, her father Satrajita at the same time as he failed to notice the warm and similar aureole the two kids radiated, being the parents of the universe.

'Never ever, my lord.' the corner of her lips tugged up, her chest swelled up in pride as she faced the duel arena once again. Her vaatsalya dripping doe eyes softened as she took in the form of a thoroughly exhausted Kamsa, catching his breath as he glared daggers at her lord. 'Convey Jaya back to our home in Vaikuntha. It is time.'

With a final groan, the manifestation of MahaVishnu pounced upon his maternal uncle, sending him flying back. A last, harsh blow of a fist and Kamsa breathed his last, his eyes rolling to the back as he was freed from his sinister body. Waiting with bated breaths, some adored Keshava while some loathed, some were left dumbstruck while others seemed pained.

A triumphant outcry erupted in the arena and Satyabhama released the breath she didn't know she had been holding in. Haladhara ruthlessly smashed Kamsa's supporters who attempted to ambush his baby brother. Resting his mighty mace on his shoulders, he gave a wide sarcastic grin to the ones who cowered away.

With a lone solemn glance, Krishna turned to the executioners of Kamsa who held his family and had been ordered to execute the instant Kamsa would lose. And within a fraction of second, Vasudeva, Devaki and Ugrasena were set independent, now breathing a sigh of relief.

Krishna gingerly strutted to his aunts with folded palms, Asti and Prapti who lamented and beat their breasts at the commencement of their widowhood by the corpse of their late husband. "Even though I tried my best to prevent it, it is I who has caused you great sorrow, Aunt. Please bestow me with forgiveness." his facial features bore torment and his gaze remained rooted to the floor, guilt eating him up from the inside. The daughters of Jarasandha then instantaneously left for their father's abode, Magadha. Satyabhama's shoulders dropped in dismay, knowing where this was going.

Mushtika, Chanoora and after the elephant Kuvalayapeeta, Krishna had passed the final hurdle named Kamsa like a child's play. Ultimately a new sun emerged from the back of the mountains, emitting rays that marked the break of dawn. A dawn of dharmarājya in Mathura. But, would it prevail for a prolonged period of time?

Grimacing, Satyabhama shook her head to clear her thoughts. For, for the world she had been a mere child and she had to keep everyone in that illusion, everywhen.

"Putri, come!" called Satrajit when he had scurried to the Yādava family. Pulling up a beatific beam, she twirled and hopped in her steps. Every step pulling her closer to where her Avyukta was, her giggles representing the ecstasy of the universe.

"What is your name, child?" Vasudeva smiled, noticing the way Kanha's gaze never left Satrajiti.

"Satyabhama." came the prompt, chirpy reply. The birds began singing melodies sweeter than honey as pleasant winds enveloped the arena.

Satyabhama, sang the universe, much like how the sound Om repeated itself over and over again.

Satyabhama, her name was like clouds weeping elixir, breathing life in barren lands.

"Satyabhama." Balarama repeated, almost in a whisper. "Beaming with truth. A jewel among women that you already seem like, little sister." he beamed as Ugrasena cooed at the child too.

"Indeed."

Devaki ran an affectionate hand in the midnight black tresses of the doe-eyed girl who in turn batted her eyelashes innocently, almost casting a spell on everyone. Krishna's feet drew him to his Bhama, her magnetism like that of the sun, and her petite frame only seemed to be squirming in front of his brawn one. A wine hued blush coated her cheeks as she lost and found herself in his lotus orbs at the same time.

"Satrajiti." he pronounced, his eyes bearing the purest form of love for his eternal consort.

'Priyatamā.'

"Rajkumar." she breathed, feeling him in her soul like she always did.

Sixteen years  since she last saw her uncle, and Devaki does not know what to say to him. 

Ugrasena had believed that Kamsa’s love for his cousin might soften him, might restore him back to sense and stability; and instead, Kamsa had turned on Devaki even before he did his father. All too well Devaki remembers hearing of Ugrasena’s deposition: the end of all hope that her uncle might intercede on her behalf. 

She should feel sorry for her uncle, withered old man that he is, but instead a tired anger curls up in her stomach. You should have known better, she wants to say. He was your son, your blood. You should have known better. My sons might have lived, if only you had. 

(There are those who whisper that Kamsa was never Ugrasena’s true-begotten son, but rather a cuckoo-child. Devaki will not hold with such slander against her aunt, but if, if, if it should be true–well, then she shares far more blood with Kamsa than Ugrasena ever did.)

(”I fear for him,” her uncle said once, years before: “i fear for what he might become without your presence to tame him,”

And she had not objected then, had she? No, instead she had agreed, and taken her splendid older cousin to her heart.)

(She and her husband heard cries sometimes, drifting down from the upper levels of the dungeons: dry-throated, disembodied, despairing.

She wondered if it might be her uncle. She prayed it was not.)

And yet: there are six bloodstains outside her cell that must be accounted for, that must have their vengeance. 

In the the end, she says nothing at all. She takes his frail body, his broken bones into her arms, and allows him to weep into her shoulder. 

“Enough,” Devaki says, as soothingly as she can. “It’s ended now, Uncle.”