The Pastime of Binding Śrī Kṛṣṇa to the Mortar

The beautiful cowherd women made many efforts to free Kṛṣṇacandra from his mother's discipline, but all were futile. Queen Yaśodā ignored them. She felt that, from every point of view, it was necessary and beneficial to keep Nīlamaṇi bound for half an hour or an hour. Disregarding everyone, she therefore prepared to bind Kṛṣṇacandra. But which Kṛṣṇacandra was she going to bind?

For him there is neither inside nor outside, neither before nor after. He exists before and after the universe, within it and beyond it, and he himself is the universe. Taking that unmanifest Adhokṣaja, who had assumed a mortal form, to be her own son, the gopī bound him to a mortar with a rope as though he were an ordinary child.
(Śrīmad Bhāgavata 10.9.13-14)

“In Kṛṣṇacandra there is neither outside nor inside, for he is all-pervading and therefore not limited by place. He has neither beginning nor end, for as the reality true in all three divisions of time, he is not limited by time. He existed before the creation of countless universes and will remain after countless universes dissolve. He abides within the intervals of those countless universes and also beyond them. He himself has become all material and spiritual worlds. The queen of Vraja regards that inconceivable Kṛṣṇacandra, Adhokṣaja, beyond the reach of the senses, the Supreme Brahman in human form, as the son born from her own womb and goes to bind him to a mortar as someone might bind a wooden doll!”

What does binding mean? It means encircling and wrapping a finite object, one with measurable limits, in something more extensive than itself. But where will his mother find Kṛṣṇacandra's limits? Where will she find something larger than him with which to wrap him? How can she bind Kṛṣṇacandra? Yet this knowledge of truth does not touch the heart of queen Yaśodā, the very embodiment of condensed parental rasa. Every day she visibly binds the limitless Lord within her arms, and even now one of his hands is held in her fist. Why, then, should she not find something fit to bind around his waist? Today she will certainly bind Kṛṣṇacandra. Delaying no longer, she draws from the loosened braid upon her head the soft silk ribbon that bound it and begins wrapping it around Kṛṣṇacandra's waist.

Kṛṣṇacandra now cried loudly and repeatedly called, “Mother Rohiṇī, run here and see! Mother is tying me up. Come free me!” But today mother Rohiṇī was not there to release him. She had gone to Upananda's house. Thus this attempt to escape the binding also failed. By uttering his name only once, even helplessly while sneezing, falling, or slipping, a person's beginningless bondage to karma is instantly shattered. The bondage that seekers of liberation can sever only with great difficulty through formidable methods such as yogic discipline is destroyed at once. Such is the glory of his name:

If a helpless person utters his name even once while sneezing, falling, slipping, or in similar circumstances, he quickly casts off the bondage of karma, whose removal seekers of liberation otherwise attain only by other arduous means.
(Śrīmad Bhāgavata 5.24.20)

Today that very Kṛṣṇacandra cries and calls out in order to escape the binding his mother intends, yet no one can rescue him. O son of Vraja's king who delights in childhood pastimes, all homage to this pastime of yours that enchants the universe!

The cowherd women present there found Kṛṣṇacandra's crying unbearable. Becoming very severe, they repeatedly reasoned with the queen of Vraja:

What has happened if the child of the house secretly ate some butter?
Ah, Yaśodā, why do you frighten the son born from your own womb?
The child is still innocent and does not know how much yogurt he has scattered.
What has been lost to you? No one can reach the end of Gokula's stores of milk.

But Nanda's queen would not listen. Fearing the binding, Kṛṣṇacandra moved all his limbs in an effort to escape his mother's fist. At one moment he stretched himself upon the ground, and at another he tried to hide behind her back. Yet she neither released his hand nor abandoned her resolve to bind him. Holding Kṛṣṇacandra firmly with one hand, she tried with the other to wrap the silk ribbon around his waist and nearly succeeded. But when she attempted to tie the knot, she could not, for the ribbon was two fingers too short. Mother paused for a moment. She had to bind and discipline her offending son. She therefore immediately drew a second ribbon from her braid and joined it to the first:

As the gopī tried to bind her own offending child, the rope proved two fingers too short. She therefore joined another rope to it.
(Śrīmad Bhāgavata 10.9.15)

After joining the second ribbon and placing it properly around Kṛṣṇacandra's belly, mother tried to tie the knot, but once again there was a gap of two fingers. She thought, “Restless Nīlamaṇi is moving his limbs violently as he tries to escape, so the ribbon has become tangled and is again two fingers too short. I shall make it a little longer.” She took the third silk ribbon from her braid and joined it as well. Wrapping it around him, she again brought her hand toward Kṛṣṇacandra's back to tie the knot, but experienced the same difficulty as before. Looking that way, she saw that a gap of exactly two fingers remained once again. Now she was greatly astonished. The first ribbon alone should have been enough, and she had added a second and a third, yet the two-finger deficiency remained. She could not determine where or why the ribbon had become entangled so as to remain exactly two fingers too short once again. Whatever the cause, Yaśodā had neither time to consider it nor any possibility of abandoning her resolve to bind Nīlamaṇi. But no other silk ribbon remained in her braid, and she could not leave Kṛṣṇacandra to fetch a soft cord from elsewhere. What could she do? Seeing no other means, the queen of Vraja said to the women standing nearby, “Sisters, look there. Several ribbons of this kind lie in my jeweled casket. Please bring them. Today I will certainly bind him.”

Receiving the queen's command gave the cowherd women another opportunity. Once more they tried to draw her attention toward Kṛṣṇacandra's faultlessly beautiful form and calm her anger:

Look toward those lotus eyes.
I would offer millions of moons to the beauty of his face. Is he a thief or an honest lord?
Bright red and dark hues appear at the corners of both eyes,
as though cakora birds sat close by to drink nectar.
Why are you so angry with him, Yaśodā? What understanding is this of yours?
Sūra says: Śyāma is a mind-enchanting child, not yet a young adolescent.

But the queen of Vraja spoke with still greater anger: “I do not need instruction from any of you. I want you to bring the ribbons. If you cannot, sit quietly. If you cannot bear this, close your eyes or go far away. I will bind him.” For the first time, the women of Vraja saw the lady of Vraja's king so agitated and behaving so sternly. They saw that queen Yaśodā was deeply angry and thought that if they did not bring the cords, no one knew how she might treat Nīlamaṇi in the force of her anger. Several gopīs ran to fetch them. One woman became very angry at mother's words but did not reveal it. She swiftly arose and brought Yaśodā's smooth churning rope, with which she daily churned yogurt for Nīlamaṇi, dearer to her than millions of lives. Placing it in mother's hand, she said sarcastically, “Mistress of Nanda's house, this is long enough. Join it to those ribbons.” The queen understood her sarcasm and laughed inwardly, thinking that this foolish woman had taken her feigned anger as real. Outwardly expressing satisfaction, she approved the offering: “Very good, sister. You have brought an excellent thing.” The churning rope was indeed extremely soft and smooth. It was somewhat thicker than the silk ribbon, but there was no possibility of its injuring Kṛṣṇacandra's exceedingly delicate limbs. Mother therefore immediately joined it to the ribbons already fastened together and very carefully tried to bind his belly. But what a wonder, what a great wonder! Even after adding that long churning rope, precisely the same two-finger deficiency remained. This time mother's astonishment knew no limit, while the assembled women burst into laughter. Some young women said with a laugh:

Goddess of Vraja, we already told you. Through his unsurpassed enchanting art, he surpasses even Kaphallaka. Rejoicing only in the graceful craft of theft, this invader shines forth.
(Śrī Gopālacampū)

“Queen of Vraja, when we came to complain, we told you that he knows some supreme art of enchantment. With this art he surpasses even Kaphallaka whenever he goes to steal butter and other foods. By its power no one can catch or bind him, and he does whatever he wishes. His sole occupation is stealing yogurt, milk, and similar things, eating them himself, and distributing them freely to monkeys and others. In this he has won great renown, and only in this does he find genuine delight. Today too, this leader of thieves triumphs here through that same art and refuses to enter your bonds.”

• Kaphallaka is the name of the original teacher of the art of theft.

Hearing the young women, queen Yaśodā thought, “Surely these very women have employed some arresting spell and obstructed my son's binding. My Nīlamaṇi is dearer to them than life, and they cannot bear to see him bound. When I disregarded their words, they resorted to such a spell. That is why I cannot bind him.” Becoming annoyed at this thought, mother said, “No, no, you need not explain it to me. I know why my Nīlamaṇi cannot be bound. This is not the result of his enchanting art. It is the play of some reprehensible art belonging to you women.”

Rather, this must be some reprehensible art of yours.
(Śrī Gopālacampū)

Hearing this playful accusation from the queen of Vraja, young and old alike roared with laughter. Yet fearing that mother might grow still angrier, they spoke while laughing:

O lady, we swear upon your feet that we possess no such astonishing art.
(Śrī Gopālacampū)

“Queen of Vraja, listen. We speak the truth and swear upon your feet. The astonishing art responsible for this event does not belong to us. We have nothing to do with it.”

Meanwhile, the gopīs who had gone to fetch ribbons from Yaśodā's jeweled casket returned carrying many cords. The sight renewed mother's enthusiasm, though her mind was certainly full of wonder. Seeing the women swear their innocence, she began to think that perhaps, as Garga had said, some divine potency entered her Nīlamaṇi from time to time and acted without his knowing anything of it. Whatever the truth, she had to bind him and discover the limit of this wonder. She joined the ribbons one after another to the rope already there. Each time she added one, she wrapped the whole length around her son's belly to test it, but the result was always the same: the cord remained two fingers too short. From the moment the queen first noticed that gap, every cord she added fell exactly two fingers short, as though each deliberately drew back by two fingers every time and refused to participate in binding Kṛṣṇacandra. Mother gathered all the ribbons in Nanda's house and fastened them together, but none fulfilled her purpose. She failed each time. The cowherd women laughed at her failures, and now her anger too disappeared. She herself began laughing at her unsuccessful attempts, yet with every passing moment her astonishment at this wondrous event grew:

When that too proved insufficient, she joined another cord to it. Yet every cord she took for binding remained two fingers too short. Thus Yaśodā joined together all the ropes in her house, and while the gopīs smiled, she too smiled and became astonished.
(Śrīmad Bhāgavata 10.9.16-17)

With eyes widened in wonder, mother looked toward the women of Vraja. Until now her gaze had been fixed solely upon Nīlamaṇi and the effort to bind his belly. Now she stood quietly looking at the cowherd women, as though hoping to receive from them some hint of the hidden cause of the event. They themselves were deeply astonished and said:

O uniquely blessed lady of the world, what a wonder! His waist is encircled by the narrowly measured thread of a golden girdle, yet now all the rope in the house cannot encompass it. Every collection of cords remains two fingers too short. Some mystery must certainly be at work. Therefore, stop this effort now.
(Śrī Ānandavṛndāvanacampū)

“Queen Yaśodā, you alone are blessed in all the world, for you are Nīlamaṇi's mother. As the one who gave birth to him, you have already seen countless wondrous pastimes, each surpassing the last. Look at today's wonder. Nīlamaṇi's waist is encircled by a very short, precisely measured thread holding his golden girdle. That little thread surrounds his waist on every side. But when you try to encircle the same waist with silk cords today, its measure cannot be found. No one can discover how large it is. All the cords in your house have been joined, yet the waist has not been measured. You have added heaps of cord, but every one remains two fingers too short. Be certain, then, that this occurs because of some mystery. Perhaps Nīlamaṇi's destiny contains no possibility of bondage. Give up trying to bind him now.”

Kṛṣṇa's mother now became still more astonished. Until then she had not noticed that the vast length of joined silk cords remained two fingers short when wrapped around his waist, while at that very moment the same waist was encircled by his girdle. Two utterly contradictory facts occurred at the same place and time. When this entered her awareness, her mind became confused for a moment. Then, as though inspired by some unknown power, she resolved to discover the limit of this astonishing event and how many cords it would require. She would not stop until she had determined it. To carry out this resolve she told the gopīs:

Sisters, no more cords of this kind remain in my house. Bring all those that are in your homes.
(Śrī Ānandavṛndāvanacampū)

“Sisters, no more soft silk cords of this kind remain in my house. Bring every such ribbon from your homes.” Earlier, the gopīs had been desperate to free Kṛṣṇacandra because he appeared terrified and frantic for rescue. Now he had become relatively calm, and the women were certain that mother could not bind him. Unable to find the end of this wondrous mystery, they too swung upon a cradle of astonishment and yearned to see where the event would finally lead. As soon as mother gave the order, they all ran away and brought every ribbon from their homes. In moments they had piled the cords before the queen of Vraja. One might suppose that because Kṛṣṇacandra had caused havoc in their homes and broken innumerable pots, they brought the cords to frighten him and repay their playful quarrel. That was not so. Nor did they bring them because they were angry at mother's insistence on binding him, nor from fear that she would become angry if they disobeyed. Moved by intense, joyful curiosity, they gathered every cord from their homes because they longed to behold Kṛṣṇacandra's supernatural and wondrous deed and determine whether the two-finger deficiency could be overcome:

Neither from anger nor enmity, nor from fear of Vraja's queen, did they act. Whatever ropes existed throughout their homes, they brought them all before her, moved by supreme, joyful curiosity and the desire to behold a deed beyond this world.
(Śrī Ānandavṛndāvanacampū)

The queen took some cords, fastened them together, and joined the long rope to the ribbon around Kṛṣṇacandra's belly. When she tested it, that too remained two fingers short as before. She took several more, joined them together, and attached them to the cord around his belly, but when she wrapped it she found the same deficiency. Thus all the cords brought by the women were exhausted, yet the two-finger gap did not disappear. It was as though the deficiency had touched the Supreme Brahman and itself become Brahman, free from increase or decrease, neither diminishing nor growing, but remaining constantly and uniformly two fingers wide:

That two-finger deficiency itself became Brahman, free from increase and decrease.
(Śrī Ānandavṛndāvanacampū)

As soon as the heap of ribbons was exhausted, laughter vanished from the cowherd women's faces. In its place danced waves of deep wonder mixed with fear. The queen's playful anger and her attempt to bind wondrous Nīlamaṇi became for them a strange and fearful marvel. The golden girdle remained tied exactly as before. It neither broke nor trembled even slightly. How could it? Had Kṛṣṇacandra's belly expanded at all, the girdle would have broken or moved. His belly remained unchanged. Yet when the immense rope was wrapped below that girdle in a line parallel to it, it remained two fingers short and its ends could not meet. No one knew where the rope's great length vanished in between. When they counted, the countless beautiful knots in that smooth cord could be seen before his belly. But whenever queen Yaśodā turned toward his back and tried to bring the ends together, the same two-finger gap appeared. A mass of knotted silk cord lay before his belly, yet every time the queen entirely failed to join its two ends. What kind of pastime was this, and whose? Everyone had brought every cord from her home, leaving not one behind, yet the waist of such small circumference could not be encircled. How could the impossible be occurring? The cowherd women's eyes became motionless. They forgot home, children, and family, and every remaining impression of other subjects vanished from their minds and intellects. They entered an extraordinary condition:

Their eyes became motionless, their awareness of home fell away, and even the remaining impressions of all other objects were struck down. The houses of the beautiful cowherd women were left without ropes when mother, in playful anger, persisted in binding the wondrous child.
(Śrī Ānandavṛndāvanacampū)

The queen of Vraja was now utterly exhausted by her effort to bind her son. Streams of perspiration flowed from all her limbs. Her braid had already come loose, and mother had restrained her hair with a garland of mālatī flowers. Now that garland too broke, and its woven blossoms scattered here and there. This labor of his mother was all that was required. It filled Kṛṣṇacandra's eyes, and the potency of grace manifested at once. Exhausted, discouraged, and despondent, she thought, “I shall not be able to bind Nīlamaṇi, yet let me try one final time.” The moment she moved to tie the knot, Kṛṣṇacandra accepted the bondage. He was bound by the very first silk ribbon his mother had drawn from her braid for that purpose:

Seeing his own mother's body wet with perspiration, her hair and garland loosened by her labor, Kṛṣṇa compassionately consented to be bound.
(Śrīmad Bhāgavata 10.9.18)

The queen of Vraja's purpose was fulfilled. For her sake, the inconceivable supreme potency of her son's divine pastime placed her eternally liberated Lord within bonds. At the same time, within this supremely enchanting pastime, that potency used Kṛṣṇa's own mother as the instrument for leaving a divine indication of a profoundly hidden mystery for the souls dwelling in the created world. Through the two-finger deficiency revealed by the silk cord and the way that deficiency was finally overcome, the divine pastime potency silently proclaimed, “Living beings of the world, listen and behold. If you wish to bind Kṛṣṇacandra, the Supreme Brahman, the highest Person and Lord himself, then learn the secret of his bondage:”

He becomes bound only by these two: the devotee's labor in worship and his own grace, and by no other means. So long as those two had not arisen, the ropes remained two fingers too short. Now both had appeared, and at her very next effort he accepted the binding she performed.
(Śrī Ānandavṛndāvanacampū)

“The Lord of all accepts bondage only when two things manifest: the devotee's labor in worship and the Lord's own grace. Apart from these, there is no other means of binding him. See it directly in mother's life. Until both the labor of worship and Kṛṣṇa's grace appeared, the rope remained two fingers short as a sign pointing to them. Now both have manifested, and at mother's very next effort Kṛṣṇacandra immediately accepted the bond.”

• When a devotee engages body, mind, and speech in worship of the Supreme Lord and continues spiritual practice without interruption, even pride in that practice melts away. From the practice itself arises an indescribable exhaustion, an intense anguish at the furthest limit of longing for direct vision of the Lord. As soon as that anguish appears, grace manifests within the Lord. Direct realization then necessarily occurs, and the Lord accepts the devotee's bonds and comes under the devotee's control. Certainly there is a vast difference in nature, form, and kind between the worship and devotional labor of the Lord's eternal associates and the divine grace manifest through them, and the worship and devotional labor of practicing devotees and the grace that arises from it. In this pastime, the queen of Vraja's worship takes the form of attempting to bind Kṛṣṇacandra, who yearns for parental rasa. When the attempt does not succeed, her despairing anguish is her labor in worship. Kṛṣṇa then becoming compelled to accept her bond is the manifestation of his grace. Such worship is nearly inconceivable for practicing devotees. For them, worship in the form of hearing, chanting, and similar practices performed with faith and love is possible.

Kṛṣṇacandra entered bondage solely by his own will. So long as he did not desire it, his mother could not bind him. When he wished to free his hand and flee, his majestic potency understood, “My Lord does not wish to accept mother's bond.” It immediately went to work, and boundlessness manifested within Kṛṣṇacandra's belly. Yet this potency feared that its revelation might wound the queen's heart, softened by parental affection. It therefore displayed its power while remaining unseen by mother and the other women. To external vision, the belly adorned by the girdle remained exactly as before, without the slightest change, but its circumference became endless and immeasurable. Who could encircle that all-pervading belly? Even countless universes arranged in rows could not surround it. But when mother grew exhausted by her attempts, the potency of grace arose. When grace appears, all Kṛṣṇacandra's other powers either conceal themselves or, when needed, begin to follow it. Grace awakened in him the desire to be bound and signaled boundlessness to withdraw its influence. Boundlessness disappeared, and Kṛṣṇacandra entered bondage.

Neither the queen of Vraja nor the cowherd women understood this wonder of Kṛṣṇacandra's infinite majesty and grace. The queen merely thought, “My mind became confused and I gathered so many cords for no reason. Why would so many be needed to bind Nīlamaṇi? He was moving his limbs, so I could not bring the ends together and tie the knot. At last he became still, and I tied it.” His belly was now bound. Mother added two or three more silk cords, tied the other end to a mortar lying nearby, and made knots that Kṛṣṇacandra could never open. Only then did she breathe in satisfaction.

By now many of Kṛṣṇacandra's young friends had arrived. Seeing their companion in this condition, all their faces had grown dejected. Mother looked toward them and coaxingly said:

Children, all of you watch him. If he frees himself and tries to run away, call me.
(Śrī Ānandavṛndāvanacampū)

“Children, keep watching him. If he opens the bond and starts to flee, call me.” After giving this instruction, mother looked toward Kṛṣṇacandra. The other cowherd women stood like stone images. They knew that she had finally bound him, but the wonder they had witnessed still held them under its influence, and they had not returned to their natural state. Only one gopī regained the capacity to observe mother's actions, as though some unknown power had filled her with awareness. She looked toward Kṛṣṇacandra. Before being bound, he had become almost calm, but the moment mother tied the knot to the mortar, a stream of tears again poured from his eyes. The gopī became distraught at once. Just then mother turned toward the courtyard. Unable to bear it, the gopī stepped forward and caught the queen's hand. Wishing her to release Nanda's son as quickly as possible, she begged her to look at his moonlike face:

Look at the beauty of his face, mistress of Nanda's house.
It is a portion of an autumn night that steals the radiance of countless moons.
Restless tears flow from lovely Śrī Gopāla's eyes,
as though lotuses had become bewildered, fallen helpless, and lost their way.
The light of his earrings set with gold and jewels shimmers brightly,
as though the sun had come swiftly to free his friend.
His curling locks are like bees gathering, intent upon a playful quarrel.
Beholding the radiance of his face, Sūra cannot describe its beauty.