The Forest Fire Appears on Yamunā's Bank and Śrī Kṛṣṇa Extinguishes It

At midnight, the illusion of the demon Dāvānala, sent by Kaṁsa, appears as a forest fire surrounding all the residents of Vraja and their cows as they sleep upon Yamunā's bank with Śrī Kṛṣṇa in their midst. Thinking of Bhagavān Nārāyaṇa, everyone calls upon Kṛṣṇa and Balarāma for protection. Upon awakening, Kṛṣṇa extinguishes the fire instantly with a single breath.

The sighing sound of night seemed to Kaṁsa like the breathing of thousands of serpents. Alone in his chamber, he remained absorbed in thought of the lotuses that had arrived. They appeared to him as countless venomous snakes. Again and again Vrajendra's son's secret, mysterious message echoed in his ears. Smiling, Kṛṣṇa had concealed it from Bābā, Mother, and all the residents of Vraja and given it to the chief cowherd carrying the load of lotuses, who had repeated it exactly. The more Kaṁsa reflected upon these things, the greater his agitation became. His life progressively lost its strength, and awareness of his body nearly disappeared:

The carts filled with lotuses seemed full of serpents. Hearing Śyāma's words, he continued pondering within himself. Like wood hollowed by worms, he forgot his body.

Even a spear could not inflict the anguish contained in these lines:

"Give Kaṁsa the names of Śyāma and Balarāma and tell him, 'We have performed this royal task.' All the other cowherds come and go speaking of the king, but none of them, says Sūra, has recognized Me."

In response, Kaṁsa's mind repeatedly reached the same conclusion:

"There is no escape for me from Him. He will kill me and destroy my family. The demons who went against Him never returned. How did these two survive Kāliya? Beyond that, they loaded lotuses and sent a thousand carts full of serpents. I directed them toward one serpent, but they have sent millions into my palace."

Only a short time earlier he had gathered all his courage and strength, concealed his heart's anguish, and respectfully dismissed the cowherds who brought the flowers. He sent honors to Vrajeśa and a false message of affection:

Hiding his heart's pain beneath outward excitement, he sent them back to Vraja. He presented Nanda with a ceremonial turban and clothed all the cowherds. He said, "I shall see the two brothers Balarāma and Śyāma. They have shown immense courage by bringing lotuses from the lake."

Now his composure failed because the impossible had occurred. Nanda's son had escaped even Kāliya.

Thinking of Nandalāla, Kaṁsa became distraught: "He escaped the serpent and returned to Vraja."

At that moment the chamber's silence was suddenly broken.

The gatekeeper saluted the emperor, after which a demon messenger reported, "Lord, the latest news is that Vrajarāja, his son, and all the residents of Vraja are resting tonight upon Yamunā's bank. Because the sun had set, they did not return to the cowherd settlement."

By coincidence, the immensely powerful illusionist demon named Dāvānala arrived at that exact moment together with his entire retinue. Kaṁsa, the deeply dejected king of Mathurā who had seemed nearly dead moments before, roared. His eyes displayed a strange and cruel delight that was a spectacle for the demon chieftains. Everyone immediately heard their ruler's order in his harshest voice:

"Enter that forest and cause a mighty fire to spread forcefully from every side. Then make yourselves disappear."

"All of you enter the forest, kindle a great mass of flames with immense force on every side, and then disappear."

Laughing loudly, Kaṁsa repeated the order specifically to the demon named Dāvānala:

He said to Dāvānala, "Let me see your strength. Reduce Vraja to ashes in a moment." With these words he sent him away.

Who can describe the flames of pride bursting from every particle of Dāvānala?

Receiving the order, he ran furiously and eagerly, thinking, "I shall burn the residents of Vraja together with the forest." Accepting the king's betel, he swelled with pride and planned to race around them on every side. "I shall burn Vṛndāvana, Vraja, Gokula, and every foundation of the cowherds. I shall destroy all of them together with their Lord." Boasting in this way, he strutted along the road.

Meanwhile, upon the peaceful bank of Śrī Yamunā, daughter of the sun, Vrajeśvara, the queen of Vraja, Rohiṇī, all of Vrajarāja's people, and Rāma and Śyāma, the treasures of their lives, had fallen asleep. A short distance from the lake, they arranged themselves in beautiful circles. Śrī Kṛṣṇacandra rested at the center. Vrajarāja and the others surrounded Him. Groups of friends lay in one place, Vrajeśvarī and the other mothers in another, maidens beside their mothers elsewhere, and young cowherd wives near their mothers-in-law. This formed the first circle:

Thus they placed Śrī Kṛṣṇa in the very center. Around Him lay Vrajarāja and the others, with the friends in one place, Vrajeśvarī and the other mothers in another, maidens beside their mothers, and young wives near their mothers-in-law.

Outside that circle, the young cowherd men, husbands of the cowherd women, rested on every side. This formed the second circle. Around them, bands of bow-bearing cowherds lay within a third circle:

Others lay outside them on every side, and still others beyond those.

Beyond them the cows formed a fourth circle. Surrounding the cows in a fifth circle stood greatly heroic cowherds bearing many kinds of weapons:

Outside them were the cows, and close around the cows stood a fresh company of men carrying various weapons.

The day had passed strangely for Vraja's residents, first with the fierce heat of separation from Śrī Kṛṣṇa and then the immense joy of reunion. They had found no opportunity during the day to relieve hunger or thirst. Many foods arrived from Vraja that evening, yet no one even looked toward them, for every eye remained fixed upon Nīlasundara. Although Mother Yaśodā knew her blue jewel was hungry, she did not even milk the cows and give Him their milk, for she had become deeply suspicious and felt that everything there had been contaminated by poison:

Alas, although He was hungry, she did not milk the cows and give Him their milk, fearing that everything in that place had truly been stained by poison.

Thus, exhausted by hunger, thirst, and exertion, the residents of Vraja and their cows slept peacefully a short distance from Yamunā's current, absorbed in the samādhi of their loving moods:

O King, exhausted by hunger, thirst, and exertion, the residents of Vraja and the cows spent that night near the bank of Yamunā.

That night everyone remained in that place, exhausted by hunger, thirst, labor, and heat. All the cowherd men and women slept, having rooted body and mind in Kṛṣṇa's feet.

At midnight the company of the greatly powerful illusionist demon Dāvānala arrived. In an instant, the dry summer forest provided a perfect medium for the demon, and beneath its cover his illusion appeared as a forest fire. A terrible conflagration arose to surround all the residents of Vraja and reduce them utterly to ashes:

At midnight a forest fire, raised by the dry summer woodland, surrounded sleeping Vraja on every side and began to burn it.

Upon Yamunā's bank the forest was exceedingly beautiful, and everyone had fallen under sleep's control, O King. Summer had dried the grass on every side, and a mighty fire arose within it. As the residents of Vraja slept at midnight, the blazing fire surrounded them from every direction, seeking to burn them all to ashes in a moment.

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The forest fire burned in all ten directions and rushed upon the people of Vraja. Flames rose as high as the sky, and the demon found every opportunity to strike. King Kaṁsa had respectfully sent him forward with an offering of betel: "Burn them and create devastation in an instant. What significance does wretched Vraja possess?" Earth and sky became completely filled, with no opening left for escape. Sūra says the demon came eagerly and proudly to kill Śyāma and Balarāma.

The residents of Vraja awoke. They did not know that this too was an arrangement of the demon king Kaṁsa. They thought it an act of providence and believed that a real forest fire had arisen:

The demon rushed through the forest with his company, intent upon killing them. Sūradāsa says the people of Vraja cried, "A forest fire has arisen today."

A tumultuous uproar began, with no hope of saving their lives. Perhaps they could reach the cool stream of Yamunā, daughter of the sun. Yet even that was impossible, for terrible flames rose on every side:

The forest fire had come extremely near. Knowing that Vraja could not survive, they cried, "Let us go to the water's edge." After deliberating, they rose to leave, but when they looked around, men and women everywhere stood astonished, drawing deep breaths. Flames rushed and roared, and no rescue could be seen. Sūra beheld the fire swelling until its blaze reached the sky.

How terrifying was the scene.

The forest bamboo burned, kuśa and kāśa grasses trembled and blazed, and fiery light flew through the air as the powerful fire rushed onward. Leaping flames made flowers and fruits crackle and burst, hanging upon each tree and bending it down. Great showers of fire created dense smoke, while scattered embers covered the sky in a storm. Leaves burned, flames roared and streamed, and great trees cracked and fell to the earth.

At that moment everyone's mind suddenly received a wondrous inspiration and became absorbed in this thought: "Whenever our lives are in danger, Lord Nārāyaṇa enters this very child. Why should He not, since by His grace the child was born among us and is a fitting vessel for divine presence? Entering Him in this way, Nārāyaṇa protects us. Let us now contemplate Nārāyaṇa within this child Śrī Kṛṣṇa, who has been entered by Him. Regarding Kṛṣṇa as Nārāyaṇa, let us take refuge in Him to cross the calamity of the forest fire. His elder brother has also revealed His omniscience today, so Rāma, Kṛṣṇa's brother, likewise appears to be divinely possessed."

They reflected, "At times of mortal danger, Nārāyaṇa enters this very child, born among us by His grace, and protects us. Let us now confidently regard Kṛṣṇa, entered by Śrī Nārāyaṇa, as Nārāyaṇa Himself and take refuge in Him to cross this calamity." Because Balarāma had displayed omniscience that day, they inferred that Kṛṣṇa's brother was also divinely possessed.

Then all the residents of Vraja cried out as though moved by a single mechanism:

Kṛṣṇa, Kṛṣṇa, greatly fortunate Lord. O Rāma of immeasurable valor, this most terrible fire is devouring us, Your own people. Lord, protect us, Your relatives and friends, from this insurmountable fire of death. We cannot abandon Your fearless feet.

"Kṛṣṇa, greatly fortunate Śrī Kṛṣṇa, and Baladeva of immeasurable strength, this terrible forest fire is about to devour all of us, Your own people. All-powerful Lords, protect us, Your relatives and friends, from this insurmountable fire of death. We cannot leave Your utterly fearless feet for even a moment."

All took shelter of Him who appeared in an illusory human form, crying incomparable words: "Kṛṣṇa, Kṛṣṇa, treasure of compassion. Lord Baladeva, mass of strength, a terrible fire burns on every side. We are Your servants, and the flames are swallowing us. Protect us, protect us, Śrī Bhagavān. My Lord, save us from this dreadful fire in the form of death. We understand that we cannot abandon Your lotus feet for even a moment. Your feet are eternally fearless, O son of Yadu, and separation from them for an instant is torment."

Vrajarāja intended to beg mercy from Lord Nārāyaṇa, whom he believed had entered his son. Yet his language changed entirely, his tone changed, and his feelings became something altogether different. In a choked voice he could say only this:

We do not fear death or the continuing stream of calamities. We fear only the torment of losing the sight of the rays from Your moonlike face.

"We do not fear death, nor do we fear an unending stream of calamities. We fear only the torment of being deprived of the rays of Your moonlike face."

The queen of Vraja could not contemplate Nārāyaṇa. Looking toward Rāma and Śyāma with tear-filled eyes, she remained immersed in worry:

"When I went inside to prepare the meal, someone sneezed this morning. We have already received one result of that omen, and escaped through the support of dharma. Now everyone faces destruction. That sneeze has brought these terrible affairs. Somehow may these two children survive." Again and again she thought this, overcome with distress.

Vrajendra's son awoke and immediately sat up. The beauty of His limbs, still filled with sleepiness, had to be seen:

Hearing their calls, He awoke and appeared exceedingly beautiful. Steeped in drowsiness, He rose, absorbed in delight. Rubbing His eyes with His hands, He looked as though one lotus were coaxing two offended lotuses.

Nīlasundara looked toward His mother. Her tear-filled eyes were reflected in her beloved son's lovely gaze, and the unbearable weight of her inner pain passed unchanged into His heart. Śrī Kṛṣṇacandra's lotus eyes trembled, and His lips moved slightly. Just as a trivial lamp is extinguished by a breath, the tremendously fierce forest fire was instantly calmed by the gentle, fragrant breath issuing from His lips:

By Hari's breath alone, the lamp of the forest fire was extinguished.

The residents of Vraja had sought protection from Nārāyaṇa, believing He had entered Nīlasundara. They now felt that, as always, Śrī Nārāyaṇa had heard their desperate cries. The Lord of the universe had entered Nanda's son, the treasure of their lives, and the infinitely powerful Lord, abode of boundless majesty, had swallowed the forest fire:

Seeing the distress of His own people, the infinite Lord of the universe, possessor of limitless power, swallowed the terrible fire.

"How can distress overcome one who has taken shelter of Me?" The Lord drank the forest fire. Kṛṣṇa is Deva, the Lord of the universe, Śrī Bhagavān of infinite power.

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"Look now to your hearts' content. The torrent of fire has been extinguished." Men and women gazed in immense joy. Sūra says the Lord gave them happiness and swallowed the forest fire. All the cowherds cried, "All glory, all glory to Murāri."

More than that, a single glance from Nīlasundara fell upon the burned trees and vines, and all regained their former boundless beauty:

The trees and vines burned by the forest fire became just as they had been when He cast His nectarean glance upon them.

Filled with wonder, Vrajeśa became confused and said:

"Why did we rave as though delirious? Where is the forest fire?"

"Were we all raving uselessly like mad people? Where is that forest fire?"

Thus this plan of Kaṁsa, ruler of Mathurā, also failed. The great danger that had descended upon the residents of Vraja vanished like a poor man's fantasy or a dream. What could they truly fear, and from whom?

Tell me, brother, whom should one fear when Kanhāī is always his helper? He wanders beside them in forest and home, plays and eats with everyone, and speaks with them all. Yogīs cannot attain Him in meditation, yet in Vraja He enjoys butter. His Māyā covers the three worlds, yet Yaśomatī binds Him with her love. Sages cannot reach Him in meditation, while the people of Vraja call Him by name. Sūra says the gods gather in hosts to behold Him and consider their lives and births successful.