The Parents of Krishna

4

Five thousand years ago, in Mathura, there lived a king named Devamidha with his two wives. One of them descended from a martial lineage, while the other hailed from a rural heritage. Each bore him a son. The first son ascended to the throne of Mathura, while the second settled near Vrindavan, dedicating himself to cattle farming. He became the greatest farmer in the region. Among his virtuous five sons was Nanda.

Among the locals, there lived a father with a splendid daughter. Her exceptional qualities earned her the name Yashoda, "She Who Brings Fame." She was married to Nanda, who thus became prosperous and renowned, earning him the title of Maharaj. The years went by, and though their lives flourished economically and health-wise, misfortune shadowed them: they remained childless.

Yet, a peculiar vision haunted them, igniting within them a glimmer of extraordinary hope. In their dreams, they saw a radiant baby with the hue of a monsoon-laden cloud, bluish-gray and shimmering. His thick, black, curly hair was adorned with a fine ribbon of pearls that held up a bun crowned by a peacock feather. His playful eyes sparkled mischievously, as if observing a vibrant, pulsating world.

His naked body was embellished with necklaces of precious stones adorning his neck and chest, a golden string girded his waist, and anklets with tiny bells jingled softly on his feet. He often held a lump of butter in one hand while the other grasped a gleaming silver flute. He was so enchanting, the gopis could just eat him up.

Whenever they relaxed and thought of him, the image of this celestial child would appear vividly in their minds. They became so deeply attached to this vision that the mere thought of giving birth to a child with different features would have extinguished any attempt before it even began. Yet, the years passed, and they still had no child. It became painfully clear that they would never have one.

To counteract the curse of misfortune, the married women vowed not to wear any jewelry until the situation changed, and Nanda's brothers organized an elaborate sacrificial fire ceremony.

However, the couple showed no enthusiasm for these measures. They had no interest in an ordinary child; what they longed for was the divine infant who appeared to them in spirit. People tried to understand, to dissuade them, to reason with them, but nothing worked.

The sacrificial ritual failed despite the expertise of the priests. The blame for this failure was laid on their lack of fervor.

Nanda and Yashoda then undertook severe penances to please God. After an entire year of devotion and austerity, their love and the earnestness of their sacrifices attracted Vishnu’s attention. He appeared to them in a dream and said:

"Why do you worry so much? Your love binds me hand and foot to fulfill your every desire. It compels me, every time I descend into this world, to choose you as my father and mother. Know that you are here, in this moment, because I am about to appear. Rest assured, the child you see in your dreams will soon be yours."

Nanda and Yashoda were awestruck by this vision. They shared the prophetic dream with their peers, and soon the entire region was abuzz with the news. The villagers felt an immense burden of guilt lifted from their hearts.

One day, a woman no one recognized, yet who inspired great respect, arrived in the village. She was an astrologer. She predicted that Nanda would have a son who would become a source of immense blessings for the entire world. She then described Krishna’s divine qualities in vivid detail. The villagers were overjoyed by this auspicious forecast.

It was at this time that Rohini, one of Vasudeva’s two wives, arrived, pregnant with Balarama. Yashoda tended to her with the greatest joy. Around this period, a wondrous phenomenon occurred: the baby boy she was accustomed to seeing in her visions appeared once again, but this time he was accompanied by a little girl. Then the boy passed from her husband’s heart into hers, while the girl took her place in her womb. From that day, it became known that she was pregnant. The entire village erupted in celebration.

However, the mystery —the great mystery— of Krishna's birth is understood by Jagannath Mishra and Sachidevi in a different, more esoteric way. 

It is widely known through scriptural authority that Krishna was born in Mathura, in Kamsa’s prison, and that his father, Vasudeva, managed to transfer him to Vrindavan to exchange him with Yashoda’s daughter. Under the influence of "the great illusion" that enshrouded the land, no one realized the subterfuge. This is how the event is narrated in the Puranas. But for this couple, the story is more intricate. To them, Krishna never leaves Vrindavan...

The Krishna born in Mathura from the union of Vasudeva and Devaki is not their Krishna. Theirs is the one born from the hearts of Nanda and Yashoda. Though he is the same person, the Krishna of Mathura or Dwarka, or the one who is married, or even the one present on the battlefield of Kurukshetra, cannot captivate them as profoundly as the Cowherd of Vrindavan. Their hearts burn passionately for Krishna of Vrindavan alone.

But these are details they only discuss with their closest friends. They were raised in a family where parents, grandparents, and all their ancestors—going as far back as living memory—had always been Krishna devotees. Their imagination was thus nurtured by supernatural scenes. Moreover, they are fortunate in that, unlike some of their cousins, they did not have to be convinced of God's existence or the authenticity of ancient tales to avoid falling into atheism. For them, the world shaped them this way. They never had to choose; the reality depicted in songs and epic poems was self-evident. Its transcendental melodies carried them beyond the reductive constraints of worldly concerns.

And here they are, on this hospitable land that welcomes both the wise and the wicked with equal generosity. For if the latter could glimpse, even for a moment, the hidden essence of these sacred places, they would truly understand why Sachidevi and Jagannath Mishra are shedding tears. ■

Chapter precedent: Nadia, a Spiritual Haven