On the Pretext of Stealing Butter, Shri Krishna Makes a River of Rasa Flow Throughout Vraja

On the Pretext of Stealing Butter, Shri Krishna Makes a River of Rasa Flow Throughout Vraja

When a melodic wave arises upon one of several connected strings, the other strings begin to resonate as well. In the same way, Shri Krishnachandra's two lilas of taking fresh butter began to resound upon the heartstrings of the cowherd women filled with maternal love:

The news spread through every home in Vraja: Hari steals curd and butter and eats it with his cowherd companions.

The result was that every cowherd woman began to sing the melody of her heart's desire:

One says, "How might I behold Hari in my own home? I shall set out abundant butter, and Shyama may eat as much as he wishes." Another says, "If I catch sight of him, I shall clasp him tightly in my arms." Another says, "I shall tie him up and keep him. Who could prevent me?"

It was as though at first there had been only a single note, then music began, and now Shri Krishnachandra started dancing to its rhythm. With Balarama and his cowherd companions he visited the cowherd women's homes and, through his exquisitely sweet actions, set a river of rasa flowing. The women immersed themselves in it and lost all awareness:

Then Bhagavan Krishna, together with Balarama and his young friends of Vraja, played in ways that brought delight to the women of Vraja.

When awareness returned, they offered their everything to Shri Krishnachandra:

Surdas says: O charming woman, you have given everything to that enchanting stealer of the mind.

In homes, on the bank of the Kalindi, at the water-drawing place, in the cow pasture, forests, groves, lanes, verandas, and temples, the sole subject discussed by the beautiful cowherd women was "Shri Krishnachandra's delightful childhood mischief." Crowds gathered and told one another what had happened in their homes: "Nilamani performed such an enchanting lila at my house. This is how he ate butter there." By speaking and listening, they plunged into an ocean of happiness.

One would say, "Sister, listen and I shall tell you what happened at my house. Dawn was about to break. All Vrajapura resounded with the rumbling sound of curd being churned. That sound awakened Shri Krishnachandra. As soon as he awoke, he slipped unnoticed even by the queen of Vraja and came to my home. I was churning curd. I saw him stepping ever so softly toward the butter storeroom. Stunned with joy, I simply watched. He entered, and several lamps were burning there. He feared that I would see him in their bright light, so he went to each lamp and extinguished it with a puff of fragrant breath from his lotus mouth. After putting out every lamp, he felt secure and began eating butter. Sister, he thought that no one could see him now because the lamps were out. But in the dark radiance of his sacred limbs I gazed again and again upon his lila of eating fresh butter and felt utterly blessed. Oh, how can I describe that vision?"

Awakened at dawn by the sounds of curd being churned, the cowherd boy quietly entered the cowherd women's house. Quickly extinguishing the lamps with breezes from his lotus mouth, he swallowed the fresh butter. May that cowherd boy protect us.

Hearing the cowherd woman's account, several others would cry out together, "Oh sister, that is exactly how Nilamani extinguished the lamps in our houses too, with nectar-bearing breaths from his lotus mouth, and lovingly partook of the fresh butter." Another would say, "Friend, he did not come to my house at dawn. He came when evening had fallen and Vrajapura was already covered by the black hem of night. It was then that Yashoda's son entered my home."

"Oh! Seeing the beauty of his dark form, I stood transfixed just where I was. I saw that he had come to the door and then entered. Sister, that is all I could see. The dark hue then filled my eyes. The ruby doorway turned dark, the threshold turned dark, the courtyard became dark, the windows and pillars became dark, my sari became dark, and my limbs became dark. Even the darkness of night put on a new dark blanket. Every particle of me and my home became dark. Yashoda's dark and beautiful son dissolved into such a dark-colored house. How could I possibly find Shyamasundara then?"

Knowing evening to be dark, he went to the cowherd woman's home. He entered and disappeared within the house, and his dark body could no longer be seen. Who could distinguish the forms of body and home?

"But then it occurred to me that I should light a lamp and search for him in its glow to see where he was and what he was doing. I took a lamp and went in. There he sat in the butter storeroom. Drops of fresh butter and curd shimmered upon his broad chest. Oh, what can be said of that beauty? It was as though a multitude of stars were reflected in the waters of the Kalindi."

Drops of milk products were scattered over his body, a beauty beyond description, as though the path of stars were reflected in the waters of the Yamuna.

"Sister, what can I tell you? I offered myself completely to that form."

Surdas says: the merciful Lord transformed and cast aside all awareness of her body.

A third beautiful cowherd woman would recount her experience: "Friend, hear my story! I was standing at the gate of the garden adjoining my home when I heard an exceedingly faint tinkling sound. I raised my eyes and saw Yashoda's son, Shri Krishnachandra, moving cautiously toward my house. Again and again he stopped and looked all around. I hid myself among the woven vines. He reached the doorway. No one was there, the doors stood open, and he went inside. I quickly reached the doorway and waited in ambush for him to emerge after eating butter. He soon came out, with bright fresh butter gracing his leaf-soft palm. I sprang forward, caught his hands, and gazed at the moon of his face. Sister, I wanted to speak but could not, for at his touch my limbs began to tremble. Then a smile spread across his crimson lips, and he laughed and said, 'Friend, in front of Maiya you would take me into your lap and caress me. I thought that if I came to your home and ate your butter, you would love me even more. That is why I came here to take butter.' Oh, his honeyed voice seemed filled with an enchanting spell. Sister, I truly became enchanted. For a few moments it seemed that within my heart lay an infinite, shoreless ocean of rasa in which dark blue waves arose. Each wave entered my life and said, 'This is Shri Krishnachandra's dwelling. No one else has any claim here.' My eyes closed. Shri Krishnachandra could have freed his hands and run away in the meantime, but he remained standing exactly as he was, his hands resting in mine. Gathering all my composure, I opened my eyes and saw that he was still smiling. Only then did I recover a little power to speak. In a voice choked with emotion I said, 'Nilamani, treasure of my life, sit down. Let me ward off every evil from you. I shall bring still more delicious curd, and you may partake to your heart's content.' Saying this, I began taking pots of curd and fresh butter from my storeroom and setting them outside. Sister, it was not merely curd and fresh butter. At that very moment I gathered my all and laid it as an offering before Shyamasundara Shri Krishnachandra."

Mother, I remained hidden and watching. When he came out of the house carrying butter, I caught his arm. Then he laughed, looked at my face, and spoke sweet words. I remained spellbound, as if touched by magic, and true love arose. "Sit down, Kanha. I offer myself to you and shall bring more curd." Surdas says that the wise cowherd woman fulfilled her love by giving everything to Shyama.

A fourth began relating what had happened at her home: "Friend, it was afternoon. I sat in the shade of an ashoka tree across the royal road, enjoying the cool breeze. Then I saw Shri Krishnachandra come and stand at my doorway, utterly quiet and still. Next came a group of younger cowherd children, Vishala, Vrishabha, Ojasvi, Devaprastha, Varuthapa, Milinda, and others. They too were perfectly quiet and silent. After them came a group including Dama, Sudama, Kinkini, Stokakrishna, and Amsha, also without commotion. Then Subala, Arjuna, Gandharva, Vasanta, Ujjvala, Kokila, and others arrived, without the slightest restlessness in their limbs. Madhumangala, Pushpanka, Hamsa, and others came next, and not even a trace of playfulness appeared in them. All assembled in the cool shade of a mango tree near the gateway. Their expressions suggested that they were merely going somewhere to play along the royal road and had paused to rest a little from fatigue. Before my eyes, Shri Krishnachandra walked slowly into the inner part of my house, while the cowherd children remained sitting quietly outside. Moving very quickly so that the boys would not see me, I continued some distance past my house, crossed the road into my garden, and reached the courtyard by the rear path. The house was entirely empty. Everyone had gone to see the opening festival of the swings. I alone remained, and Shri Krishnachandra believed that I too had gone somewhere. He had therefore taken possession of the house without hesitation. Because I was alone, I had churned curd until midday that day, and I had just set down a vessel full of freshly churned butter before going outside. When I returned, I saw Nilamani taking butter from that very vessel and eating it. He then signaled all his companions to come inside and began filling his hands with curd and butter and placing it upon their hands and into their mouths. Drops of curd were scattered across his chest. With anxious, fearful eyes he repeatedly looked this way and that. Now and then he stood concealed behind one of the boys, tilted his neck, moved his eyes toward their corners to look at everyone, and then resumed eating fresh butter. Oh friend, what can I say? I sold myself to that graceful pose. I watched from concealment and held myself together so that Shri Krishnachandra would not discover me; otherwise I would have fainted and fallen. A flood of joy arose in my heart, which pounded and beat with tremendous force from the excess of bliss. Oh, the splendor of the moon of Nilamani's face at that moment, the beauty of his lotus face, my eyes surely beheld it, but eyes possess no power of speech. Had they been able to speak, sister, I might have told you a little about that sweetness of form. Description through words is impossible. I can say only that my mind drowned in that form and I stood there like a painted figure."

Hari himself quietly entered the empty house, leaving all his friends outside, and saw curd and butter within. He found the freshly churned curd and butter and ate it by the handful, placing it upon his lips. With a signal he called all his friends and gave them handful after handful with his own hands. Drops of curd scattered across his chest as he looked here and there with fear in his mind. Rising to take cover, he watched everyone, then took more and placed it in the cowherd boys' hands. The cowherd woman watched from concealment, absorbed and filled with immense joy. Surdas says that, exhausted from gazing at Shyama's face and unable to speak, she left her mind at the threshold.

Before this young woman's tale had ended, many others would begin saying, "Yes, yes, friend! We too have seen exactly such a vision. Oh, to us it seemed like the meeting of the lotus and the moon. This was not Shri Krishnachandra eating fresh butter, but the union of lotus and moon. Shri Krishnachandra's hands were lotuses and his face the moon. The lotus had forgotten its beginningless opposition to the moon and was meeting it with fresh butter as a gift. Drops of fresh butter falling from Yashoda's son's mouth upon his emerald-dark limbs shone as though the moon, delighted by union with its beloved, were showering beautiful drops of nectar across the blue sky."

His beautiful hands shone near his face in this wondrous form, as though the lotus had abandoned its hostility toward the moon and approached it bearing a gift. Drops born of curd fell again and again from his mouth upon his chest, as though the lovely moon, upon its beloved's arrival, showered drops of nectar.

In this way the cowherd women became absorbed in speaking about Shri Krishnachandra. Shri Krishnachandra too distributed the pure rasa of supreme bliss with open hands. Revealing one supremely enchanting lila after another, each surpassing the last, he savored the rasa of maternal love. For the saints who place their hope in him alone within this world scorched by the three afflictions, he set a river of nectar flowing. On the bank of that surging stream of nectar he fashioned a peaceful, delightful, sacred ford of glorious fame. By bathing there, or rather, merely by forming a cup from the cavity of the ear and sipping from it once, all desires for fruitive action are uprooted and the bonds of worldly existence break forever:

At that most excellent sacred ford of his fame, nectar to the ears of the virtuous, one who but once touches it with the cupped vessel of hearing washes away the desire for fruitive action.

Pointing toward the indwelling controller, the revealed scriptures declare:

He who dwells in the earth, who is within the earth, whom the earth does not know, whose body is the earth, and who controls the earth from within.

"He who is established in the earth and within the earth, whom the earth does not know, whose body is the earth, and who governs the earth while dwelling within."

He who dwells in water and is within water, whom water does not know, whose body is water, and who controls water from within; he who thus dwells within and controls fire, the midregion, wind, heaven, the sun, the directions, the moon and stars, space, darkness, and light, while each does not know him and each is his body: this is his form pertaining to the divine powers.

"He dwells in water and within water; water does not know him, water is his body, and he governs it from within. In the same way he dwells within fire, the midregion, wind, heaven, the sun, the directions, the moon and stars, space, enveloping darkness, and light opposed to darkness. None of these knows him, each is his body, and he governs each from within. Thus he is the indwelling controller in the sphere of the divine powers."

He who dwells in all beings, who is within all beings, whom all beings do not know, whose body is all beings, and who controls all beings from within: this is his form pertaining to created beings.

"He dwells in all beings and within all beings; all beings do not know him, all beings are his body, and he governs all beings from within. Thus he is the indwelling controller in the sphere of created beings."

He who dwells in the vital breath and is within it, whom the vital breath does not know, whose body is the vital breath, and who controls it from within; he who in the same manner dwells within and controls speech, sight, hearing, mind, skin, understanding, and generative power, while each does not know him and each is his body.

"He dwells in the vital breath and within it; the vital breath does not know him, the vital breath is his body, and he governs it from within. In the same way he dwells within speech, sight, hearing, mind, skin, understanding, and generative power. None of these knows him, each is his body, and he governs each from within. Thus he is the indwelling controller in the individual self. Who is this one whose forms pertain to the divine powers, created beings, and the individual self? He is none other than Vrajendra's son, Shri Krishnachandra!"

Yet, impelled by an intense desire to drink the nectar of maternal rasa, Shri Krishnachandra wanders upon the pure earth of Vrajapura, forgetful and concealing his infinite majesty and boundless power of governance behind his absorption in childhood. The deities presiding over water, fire, the midregion, wind, the sun, the directions, the moon, stars, space, darkness, and light behold him with their own eyes and find fulfillment. In Vrajapura every being, from Brahma down to a blade of grass, is blessed by directly seeing him. Today it is as though Shri Krishnachandra does not govern his sense of smell; smell governs him. The moment he catches the fragrance of fresh butter in any cowherd woman's house, he is drawn there. Today he is no longer master of his eyes; his eyes govern him. Whenever he sees curd, milk, and fresh butter in a cowherd woman's house, he sets out to steal it. His ears control him today, and as soon as the sound of curd churning enters their openings, he dashes toward it. Today a succession of impulses flashes through Shri Krishnachandra's mind: first he must visit this woman of Vraja's home, then that one's, and then another's. Today he does not rule his mind; his mind rules him. The moment any cowherd woman touches him, he becomes restless for still more happiness from her touch. He runs from one home to another for this very reason, for his skin is governing him. His intellect tells him, "Yashoda's son, it is certainly true that every beautiful cowherd woman has already offered you her all, to say nothing of her curd, milk, and fresh butter." Directed by this understanding, Shri Krishnachandra plays exactly as he pleases in their homes.

Shri Krishnachandra, who dwells within and distributes bliss, is today himself under the sway of rasa and restless to enjoy bliss. Today that all-pervading indwelling controller and universal governor is not invisible. Today he roams through Vraja, illuminating its streets with the cooling rays of his sapphire-radiant limbs, drenching them in the beauty of a fresh rain cloud, and perfuming them with a supremely divine fragrance. In the homes of the beautiful cowherd women he reveals his utterly delightful childhood mischief. Playing in many ways with their curd, milk, fresh butter, vessels of milk products, cows, calves, and cowherd children, he experiences supreme bliss. Beholding his sweet, playful actions, the cowherd women too are overwhelmed by joy. To increase their bliss they sometimes wish to stop him, yet cannot speak, for joy completely chokes their throats:

Surdas says that beholding the Lord's childhood play, the women of Vraja became weak with joy. Though they thought again and again of stopping him, no words would emerge.

But now a thought arose in the minds of the women of Vraja: "All of us are able to savor these playful actions of Shri Krishnachandra and are plunging and rising in bliss, but the queen of Vraja remains deprived of this happiness! Nilamani does not behave mischievously in his own home." As soon as this thought arose, they silently settled upon a plan: "Let us all go on the pretext of making complaints and describe every action of Nilamani, thereby immersing the queen of Vraja too in the ocean of supreme bliss." This feeling in their hearts was about to take concrete form, and the cowherd women began advising one another:

Let Gopala eat the butter. Listen, friend, remain silent and let him smear curd upon his face. I shall catch him by the arm and take him away, and let my eyes extinguish their burning thirst. I shall go and receive four times its value, if only he lets me reach Yashoda. You think Hari knows nothing, yet he listens with his enchanting ears. Surdas says that Shyama has brought the cowherd woman under his sway, and she preserves him by giving body, mind, and life.