Description of the Journey to Vṛndāvana

The royal road of Vraja was filled with countless carts. Canopies had been raised over them from patterned cloth in white, green, rose, pale, yellow, and crimson hues. Around every canopy, multicolored silken fabrics formed an enclosure like a wall. A golden finial shone at the very center above, with banners fluttering upon it. It seemed that these supremely beautiful and immense carts were artfully drinking the sun's rays with the fluttering tongues of their banners upon the golden finials. Exulting in a fortune difficult even for the gods to attain, they appeared to mock the celestial aerial cars flying overhead:

The carts bore overhead canopies of variegated cloth in white, green, rose, pale, yellow, and crimson hues, enclosed on all sides with many kinds of exceedingly precious silken fabrics. With tongues formed by hosts of banners fluttering above their golden finials, they appeared to lick up the multitude of the sun's rays with consummate artistry, while putting the celestial aerial cars to ridicule.

Extremely well-nourished oxen, splendid with gold-plated horns, were yoked to these carts. Bells tied around every neck produced most charming sounds of jhun-jhun and tun-tun. Elderly gopīs, elderly cowherd men, young women, cowherd maidens, and cowherd children sat in their proper places upon the countless beautifully adorned carts standing in a single row, awaiting the journey. The cart upon which the queen of Vraja sat with Nīlamaṇi in her lap, together with Śrī Rohiṇī holding Rāma, possessed a beauty all its own:

In that cart, brilliant with the wondrous colors of gold set with jewels, its center made comfortable by a clean and soft mattress, and fashioned like a house, Rohiṇī and Yaśodā shone resplendently in the lovely radiance of their sons.

"It has a wondrous golden hue and is set with jewels. In its center lies a comfortable covering of bright, soft cushioning. It is fashioned like a beautifully decorated chamber of a house. The blue radiance streaming from the great emerald-dark form of Śrī Kṛṣṇacandra, Nanda's son, and the brilliant splendor issuing from Balarāma's fair limbs illumine it. Seated in such a supremely beautiful cart, Vrajeśvarī and Balarāma's mother shine resplendently."

Before this line of carts stood the immense herd of cattle belonging to Vrajeśvara and the residents of Vraja. Everything was now ready for departure. The sky began to resound with horns blown by countless cowherd men, the tumult of trumpets, and cries of victory. The priests of the cowherds began chanting auspicious benedictions. Maharṣi Śāṇḍilya, the family priest of the royal house of Vraja, had personally come that day and, together with his disciples, recited auspicious hymns and praises before the journey:

Placing the herds of cows in front, filling every direction with the sound of horns, and accompanied by their priests and a mighty tumult of musical instruments, they set forth.

The beautiful cowherd women seated upon the carts wore lovely garments of blue, yellow, and many other colors. The glow of kuṅkuma adorned their breasts, medallions ornamented their throats, and many kinds of jewels, pearls, and golden ornaments graced their limbs. Overwhelmed with love, they too sang songs of Śrī Kṛṣṇa's līlās:

The gopīs mounted the carts, the fresh kuṅkuma upon their breasts glowing beautifully. Delighted, dressed in fine garments, and wearing golden medallions around their necks, they sang of Kṛṣṇa's līlās.

Mounting the golden carts one after another, the gopīs set forth, immersed in the nectar of Nanda's son. Medallions blazed upon their throats, and lovely pearls hung from their beautiful attire.

The saffron mark shining upon each forehead resembled the crescent moon's radiance upon the moon. Collyrium heightened the beauty of their restless eyes, like young wagtail birds perched upon the moon.

They had fashioned sacred songs from their darling's childhood deeds. Here and there the gopīs sang, their cool voices captivating every heart.

All the līlās from Śrī Kṛṣṇacandra's appearance until that very day arose one by one before their inner vision. Immersing themselves in those līlās and rising again, they called out to Śrī Kṛṣṇacandra through hints of each pastime:

O You who appeared as the son of King Nanda! O You who made Yaśodā, the bestower of fame even upon Nanda, Your mother! O You anointed by the great festival of Your birth! O You who delighted all Your loving kin!

O You whose mere touch tormented and destroyed the poison-bearing Pūtanā! O You unacquainted with the faults of others! O You who remained unharmed when the cart was shattered! O singular embodiment of Gokula's accumulated merit!

O You who appear enchanting through the names given by the cowherd men and women! O You who constantly delight the women of Vraja! O You whose crawling turned Nanda's courtyard into an arena of play! O You who accepted Your friends as constant companions!

O You who surpassed the whirlwind! O You who delighted the mighty lord of Gokula! O You who rejoiced in releasing the calves and reuniting them with their mothers! O You who bestowed happiness and fame upon the people of Vraja!

O You whose theft plunged everyone into bliss! O You who displayed heroism in that theft! Ah, O You who enacted the Dāmodara līlā! O You whose nature bestows happiness upon the entire moving and unmoving universe!

"O You who were born to Mahārāja Nanda! O You who made Yaśodā, she who bestows fame even upon Nanda Rāya, Your mother! O You who were adorned by the great festival at the time of Your birth! O You who delight all Your loving relatives through Your līlās! O You whose mere touch destroyed poison-filled Pūtanā! O You who remain unaware of the impurities of others! O You who emerged entirely unharmed even when the cart was shattered! O embodiment of Gokula's special merit!

"O You who appear exceedingly dear because of the names given by the cowherd men and women! O You who constantly increase the joy of the women of Vraja! O You who transformed Nanda's courtyard into an arena of delight by crawling there! O You who always keep Your friends in Your company! O You who treated the whirlwind with disdain! O You who delighted Vrajendra! O You who, even before the cows were milked, freed the calves from their bonds, reunited them with their mothers, and rejoiced! O You who bestow happiness and fame upon the residents of Vraja!

"O You whose theft plunges everyone into supreme bliss! O You who display valor in such theft! O You who enacted the līlā of a rope being bound around Your belly! O You who remain engaged in conduct that grants immeasurable happiness to the entire moving and unmoving universe!"

In this way they called out to Śrī Kṛṣṇacandra. Their singing of His līlās poured nectar into the ears of the queen of Vraja and Śrī Rohiṇī. Seated upon their cart with Rāma and Śyāma, both mothers concentrated wholly upon drinking that nectar by hearing the līlās. Their eagerness to listen grew ever stronger:

Yaśodā and Rohiṇī, seated together upon one cart with Kṛṣṇa and Rāma and eager to hear accounts of Their līlās, shone resplendently.

Śrī Rohiṇī remained somewhat watchful, fearing that the two restless children might leap down from the cart. Queen Yaśodā, however, had completely forgotten the world of the journey. Holding Nīlamaṇi in her lap and appearing like beauty personified, she became wholly absorbed in the songs of līlā flowing from the mouths of the beautiful cowherd women:

How gloriously Yaśodā shines seated upon the royal cart! What woman in all the three worlds can compare with her? Indra's queen is Lakṣmī's maidservant, and Lakṣmī herself is but one among Yaśomatī's many maidservants.

Her son shines so beautifully in her lap that she resembles the mother of the moon holding the moon itself. Wherever the gopīs sing her son's virtues, Yaśomatī turns her ears and listens.

Just one expression in their song, "anointed by the great festival of His birth," made the līlā engraved upon the queen of Vraja's heart manifest before her. For Vrajeśvarī there remained no difference between remembrance and direct vision. She experienced herself as having given birth to Nīlamaṇi only this very moment and began beholding the celebration of His birth anew:

At that moment the splendor of Nanda's residence could not be described; the heart longed to behold it. On one side the beauty of Vedic chanting increased, rising through the three worlds like a vine of auspiciousness.

There the Māgadhas recited the glory of his noble lineage, while bards celebrated his virtues. Elsewhere melodies and rāgas were sung, dripping with the singers' devotion.

Kettledrums sounded like clouds dense with bliss, and every inauspicious thing fled at their sound. Hearing them, the cowherd men overflowed with great delight and hurried joyfully toward the queen's residence.

They wore beautiful garments that even Indra had never seen. They carried auspicious gifts and sent their lovely children ahead.

The gopīs' hearts were delighted and enchanted, for a son had been born to Queen Yaśodā. She appeared as lovely as a freshly blossomed lotus bud at dawn.

Their charming faces, tinged with liquid kuṅkuma, surpassed even golden lotuses. At once they set out in their naturally graceful adornment, pearl necklaces leaping upon their breasts.

Jeweled earrings shimmered at their ears as if restless to hasten their steps. As they walked, their beautiful, lively eyes appeared like fish moving upon the sandalwood of their faces.

Perfect flowers fell from their hair, as though their locks laughed, filled with bliss. The trays in their hands appeared lovely, like moons rising upon lotuses.

Singing auspicious songs, they came from every direction, gaining ever greater beauty. Nanda's courtyard shone as though all the goddesses of fortune had arrived there together.

They sprinkled turmeric and yogurt upon everyone, and the splendor of that moment cannot be described. Entering the lovely mansion, they were received with the greatest honor by Yaśomatī.

At times, the phrase "O You whose touch tormented the poison-bearing woman," uttered from a cowherd woman's mouth, brought Pūtanā's anguish vividly before her:

"Release my breast, release it, O Murāri! This old woman has lost all color and grown pale."

At other times she became absorbed in the līlā of breaking the cart:

Nanda and the others came running there and were greatly astonished upon seeing the cart. The children began telling them, "O king, this son of yours did it.

"He moved His tiny foot in just this way, and the cart overturned and fell." The elders said, "What can these little ones know? They say the cart overturned when struck by His lotus foot."

Everyone said, "Nanda is greatly fortunate, for not the slightest harm came to the boy." From that time onward, Nanda's queen would not trust the cradle enough to leave her son in it even for an instant.

One līlā after another was taking place before Vrajeśvarī at that very moment:

The golden, jewel-studded courtyard enchants the mind and shines with supreme beauty. The darling children's tender soles gleam as they toddle, stumble, and learn to walk.

They laugh and coo while looking at their shadows, filling the heart with surging delight. Their two bodies look charming, grayed by dust, and their incomparable beauty admits no second comparison.

Their loose curls shimmer and sway like bees that fly, circle, and return. Every beauty remains whole upon their faces, like autumn moons adorned with nectar.

Milk whitens their mouths while their teeth gleam, like two clear seeds spreading radiance. They chatter in broken, childish speech, as though the moon beneath their lips poured streams of nectar.

Neck ornaments captivate the mind, while claw and tiger-tooth charms shine together. Their lively tongues move as they walk, casting nets of childish words like Love's own messengers.

Anklets ring sweetly upon their curved little feet, like young swans ascending a melody in delight. Fresh nails shine upon their lotus feet as though the nails had gathered to play rhythmic cymbals.

The two young boys, Rāma and Kṛṣṇa, one fair and one dark, mingle with the other children and play. They run away, turn back repeatedly, and glance over their shoulders.

Sometimes they flee at a run with jingling steps, then grow apprehensive and seek the shelter of a lap. Sometimes they rub their ears again and again and call loudly to the other children.

At times they shake their moonlike faces. When their mothers see them, affection surges within their hearts. They flap their arms like wings and sway, and sometimes call the monkeys near.

Queen Rohiṇī stands watching, thrilled as the ocean of her love rises. Streams of milk flow from her breasts and her body grows slack beneath the weight of bliss.

The women joyfully lift the children, kiss their faces, and give them milk. They cover the children's heads with the edges of their garments and pass water around them to ward away evil.

Seeing the children remember their play, they leave the milk, leap from the lap, and run. Joining the delighted company of children, Nanda's sons bestow bliss.

Their mothers run behind them, bring them back, and hold them close. They protect them from fire, water, and thorns, shield their feet from the hard ground, and drive away birds.

Queen Yaśodā saw clearly that her Nīlamaṇi had only just been saved from the whirlwind by Nārāyaṇa, the deity of her lineage. Otherwise, it would have been impossible for the child to survive:

The fierce whirlwind appeared, its radiance terrible, and affection itself seemed to vanish. It displayed a vast, fearsome body, then gave up that body and its life.

Nanda, Rohiṇī, the cowherd men, and their wives all came running. They lifted their darling, held Him in their laps, and became steeped in the delight of love.

Seeing that immense and dreadful form, their very lives cried out. "By what merit was the son saved?" Nandajī wondered.

The villagers said, "Nandajī possesses the greatest good fortune. By merciful Lord Viṣṇu's grace, his dark-hued son was saved."

Beholding Nandalāla, Nanda became absorbed in joy. He quickly summoned brāhmaṇas learned in all the scriptures.

Following the authority of the Vedas, they performed the prescribed rites with gifts and honor, and abundantly fed the family and kinsmen and gave them garments and wealth.

Mother was seated upon the cart to travel to Vṛndāvana, and the cart would depart in only a few moments. Yet she experienced the beautiful cowherd women as coming to her and laughingly lodging their complaints:

"O queen, this son of yours! What can we say of His deeds? At an improper time He releases the calves and then stands laughing at the entrance to the cowshed.

× × ×

"They come only for the sake of seeing Him and invent complaints to bring with them. Queen, do not think your son is little. You do not know how exceedingly bold and mischievous He is.

"Taking His friends, He beautifies every house. He eats the yogurt and breaks the vessels. Hearing these accounts of her son, she covers her head with her veil, her face blooming with delight.

"There they all become immersed in mutual laughter. Beholding His beauty, their eyelids refuse to close."

In a single moment, the mother experienced both scenes, Nīlamaṇi being bound with the rope and then freed from His bonds, completely and exactly as they had occurred:

She saw dark Śyāma tightly bound, and then saw Nanda smiling as he released His bonds. He breathed in the child's fragrance, kissed His face, clasped Him to his neck, and attained delight.

The cowherd women wished to come and their eyes longed to see Him. Together they brought the darling home, while the love-filled mother sobbed with emotion.

Who knows how many other scenes the queen of Vraja might have beheld? But upon suddenly seeing Maharṣi Śāṇḍilya and Father approach the cart, Śrī Kṛṣṇacandra leapt from her lap. Had the wall-like enclosure of silk not surrounded the cart, He would have fallen to the ground. Rohiṇījī sprang forward and caught Him. Mother's eyes opened at once. Alarmed, she forcibly seated Śrī Kṛṣṇacandra in her lap again.

Maharṣi Śāṇḍilya then sounded his conch, announcing the auspicious moment for departure. On receiving his command, Upananda stood upon a very high platform near the arched gateway and repeatedly waved his hands to signal the line of carts to move forward.

Within moments, the line of carts began to move. A thousand strong bow-bearing cowherd men assigned to protect Vrajeśvarī's cart took up their bows and arrows and set forth. Countless voices simultaneously cried victory. The tumultuous shouts of "Hai, hai! Move forward, move forward, make way!" mingled with the ghaḍat-ghaḍat rumble of innumerable carts and the sky-filling roar of kettledrums and horns. Together they made every direction and horizon resound, and nothing else could be heard:

Then millions of tumultuous sounds arose in Vraja, mingled with cries of hi-hi-hi and ji-hi-ji-hi. The ghaḍad-ghaḍad-ghaḍad rumble of the carts, together with the instruments, remained as though it had swallowed every other sound.

But before they had advanced even a hundred cubits, the carts stopped. There was no room to move forward. Every space from Vrajeśvara's arched gateway to the distant bank of the Yamunā, where they would cross the river and enter Vṛndāvana, was filled. The limitless line of cattle stood in front, with the line of carts behind it. Countless young cowherd men holding bows, arrows, and horns surrounded them on both sides. The carts could neither advance nor withdraw. To the right and left stood Vraja's lofty mansions, gardens, and dense woods. In which direction could the carts go?

The established order, with the cattle proceeding in front and the carts following behind, was wholly impossible because both were so immeasurably numerous. After a long period of confusion, Upanandajī learned of the difficulty and ordered the cattle and carts to travel simultaneously in two rows. Many cows were sent forward along the bank of Kalinda's daughter, forming a line parallel to her current. Many others were driven backward and brought near Nanda's palace. The row of cows and the row of carts now moved side by side.

Even so, the boundary of their destination, Vṛndāvana, and that of the place they were leaving, Bṛhadvana, remained joined by the lines of cattle and carts. Although the foremost cattle and carts touched the boundary of Vṛndāvana at the daughter of the sun, those at the rear had still not crossed the ramparts of Bṛhadvana. Such was the length of the procession.

Because of their immense abundance, neither the line of cows nor the line of carts could proceed in sequence. Therefore, the two moved simultaneously in parallel rows. Even when the front reached the destination, the rear had not yet left the place they were abandoning.

The beauty of the line of cows spread along the bank of the Yamunā was a sight to behold. Seeing them, Vrajeśvara's bards began imagining poetic comparisons:

Could this be the stream of the celestial Gaṅgā, arriving out of eagerness for a private conversation with the Yamunā?

"Ah! Is this the stream of the celestial Gaṅgā, eagerly coming to meet the Yamunā for a private conversation?"

Seeing the variation in stature between the intoxicated, enormous bulls and the rows of cows, with tall bulls rising here and there amid shorter masses of cattle, the bards began to wonder:

Could this be the inexhaustible succession of waves from the ocean of milk, approaching here in its desire to gather the dust of Vṛndāvana?

"Oh! Is this the inexhaustible garland of waves from the ocean of milk, arriving here with a longing to gather the supremely sacred dust of Vṛndāvana?"

No, no, it must be something else. It appears to be emerging from the base of Bṛhadvana. What, then, could it be?

Could this be the vast vine-like mass of hoods belonging to the immeasurably long king of serpents, who has abandoned his role as the bed of the Lord reclining upon the milk ocean and approached solely out of longing to behold Vṛndāvana?

"Could this be the spreading vine of Śeṣanāga's hoods rising from Pātāla? It appears that Anantadeva has come out of longing to see Vṛndāvana, abandoning His form as the couch of Śrī Nārāyaṇa reclining upon the milk ocean. These must be the spreading networks of His exceedingly long array of hoods. What else could they be?"

Yet its glittering brilliance was extraordinary. Then perhaps:

Could this be the earth's necklace of pearls?

"Could this be the earth's necklace of pearls!"

"Yes, yes, that is it!" Delighted by the beauty of the cattle, the bards described them through many such poetic imaginings. The line of carts possessed a singular beauty of its own, and they devised many comparisons for it as well. Hearing their words, the cowherd men became overwhelmed with joy.

As the row of cows and the line of carts moved forward, the sky became increasingly filled with cow-dust, a vast curtain of particles. It seemed that some wondrous artisan was constructing an earthen fortress in the empty sky without any supporting foundation.

Or perhaps it recalled another day, when the goddess Earth had been oppressed by the burden of demons. Tormented by their atrocities, she assumed the form of a cow and went before the creator of the universe to express her sorrow. But times had changed. Today she had attained fulfillment through the joy of touching Śrī Kṛṣṇacandra's lotus feet. To inform the creator of this incomparable happiness, she seemed to abandon all patience and, in the form of dust carried upward by the wind, to run toward Brahmaloka in her natural form under the force of excessive joy. On that earlier day she had gone slowly in an assumed form, burdened by sorrow. Today, restless with overwhelming bliss, she appeared to race swiftly in her true form as particles of dust:

Formerly the earth went in the form of a cow to tell of the torment inflicted by the enemies of the gods. Does she now desire to proclaim the joy of contact with Śrī Kṛṣṇa's lotus feet? Bereft of patience, has she again assumed her own form and begun racing toward the creator's abode as columns of dust driven upward by the wind?

Meanwhile, as soon as the queen of Vraja awakened from her absorption in divine emotion, she began distracting Nīlamaṇi with various topics lest He again engage in some restless mischief. Filled with curiosity, Śrī Kṛṣṇacandra began asking His mother:

"Mother, where indeed are we going?"

"Mother, where are we going?"

His mother replied:

"Son, to the forest abode named Vṛndāvana."

"My darling, to the forest land called Vṛndāvana."

Śrī Kṛṣṇacandra reflected for a moment and asked again:

"When shall we return home?"

"When shall we return home?"

A gentle smile spread across the mother's lips at her son's question, and she said:

"Dear child, our home is traveling to Vṛndāvana together with us."

"Dear child, our home is going to Vṛndāvana together with us."

Śrī Kṛṣṇacandra's delight knew no bounds. For some time afterward, He and Balarāma saw the trees, houses, and other objects seem to whirl because of the cart's motion and talked about them. Then, hanging from His mother's neck, He asked her:

"Very well, then where is Vṛndāvana?"

"Very well, Mother, tell Me, where is Vṛndāvana?"

Instead of His mother, Mother Rohiṇī answered:

"Son, on the far side of the Yamunā."

"My darling, on the far side of the Yamunā!"

Many questions and answers about the Yamunā then followed. When He was fully satisfied, Śrī Kṛṣṇacandra turned to Śrī Rohiṇī herself and asked:

"Younger Mother, what delightful treasure is there that we should undertake so much effort to go there?"

"Younger Mother, very well, tell Me: what treasure of happiness is there in Vṛndāvana that we are making such an effort to go there?"

Mother Rohiṇī replied:

"Son, there are many places to play and many playthings there."

"My darling, there are many places to play there, and there are many playthings as well."

Hearing this answer, Śrī Kṛṣṇacandra began dancing with joy. Had He not been upon the cart, He might immediately have run off in that direction.

As the cart began traveling along a path through the dense forest, the enchanting dialogue between mother and son was a wonder to hear. Though He knew everything, Śrī Kṛṣṇacandra acted as if He knew nothing and asked question after question like a wholly innocent child, while His mother answered Him with laughter:

"What is that tree whose countless leaves move ceaselessly on every side?" "It is the pippala." "What is the tree that gives birth to millions of eggs?" "It is called the udumbara." "What tree here has a form covered with dense matted locks?" "That is the banyan."

Thus, as they newly entered the forest, the wondrous dialogue arising between the mother and child delighted everyone everywhere with showers of nectar.

Śrī Kṛṣṇa asked, "What is this tree whose countless leaves move ceaselessly all around it?" His mother replied, "This is the pippala tree." Śrī Kṛṣṇa asked, "What is this tree that gives birth to millions of eggs and bears them hanging upon its limbs?" His mother answered, "It is called the udumbara, or cluster fig." Śrī Kṛṣṇa asked, "What tree is this whose body is covered with dense matted locks?" His mother said, "This is the banyan tree."

Thus, as they traveled through the forest, this wondrous series of questions, this enchanting dialogue between mother and son, showered nectar upon the cowherd men and women and immersed them in supreme bliss.

The wonder was that every beautiful cowherd woman seated upon her own cart felt that her cart was extremely near Vrajeśvarī's and that she could truly hear the entire conversation clearly. Śrī Kṛṣṇacandra then asked again:

"What is this brilliantly colored bird?" "It is the peacock." "Who sings kuhu-kuhu here in such a gentle voice?" "It is called the cuckoo." "Who is able to speak words like a human being?" "It is the parrot." "And who drinks the pollen of flowers?" "It is the bee."

Thus, on Their first journey into the forest, the two children, Gopāla and Rāma, conversed and laughed with Their two mothers, bathing the women of Vraja's clans in streams of happiness.

"What is this colorful bird? It is the peacock. Who sings kuhu-kuhu in such a gentle voice? It is the bird called the cuckoo. And who is capable of speaking words just like a human being? It is the parrot. Who drinks the pollen of flowers? It is the bee. In this way, upon entering the forest beyond Bṛhadvana, the two children Rāma and Śyāma converse and laugh with Their two mothers, pouring forth a current of bliss that bathes the beautiful women of Vraja."

There was still a considerable delay before they would reach the bank of the daughter of the sun. Mother therefore tried to give Nīlamaṇi His light meal. But Nīlamaṇi was hardly so compliant that He would eat upon the cart. He would take His meal only after descending. The cart was therefore stopped. He climbed down, sat in the shade of a lovely forest tree, and ate His snack, not alone, but with His friends:

There are many dishes, many kinds of preparations, and varieties of all six flavors. Sūrdās says: Śyāma and Haladhara, the two brothers, dine together with all Their cowherd friends.