Canto Ten - Chapter 12

Śrī Śuka said: One morning Hari decided to enjoy a forest picnic. Rising early, He awakened His calf-herding friends with the lovely sound of His horn and departed from Vraja with the calves before Him.

Thousands of affectionate boys went happily with Him, carrying their lunch bags, slings, herding sticks, horns and flutes. Each drove his own group of calves, numbering more than a thousand.

They joined their own calves with Kṛṣṇa's innumerable herd and grazed them here and there while delighting in childish games.

Though already adorned with glass, guñjā beads, gems and gold, they decorated themselves further with fruits, tender leaves, clusters of flowers, blossoms, peacock feathers and colored minerals.

They stole one another's lunch bags and other belongings. When the owner noticed, they tossed the object to someone farther away; the boys there threw it still farther, then returned it laughing.

If Kṛṣṇa wandered some distance away to admire the forest's beauty, they raced to touch Him first, each crying, "I will be first! I will be first!" Thus they played.

Some played their flutes, others blew their horns, some hummed along with the bees and others called with the cuckoos.

They raced beside the shadows of flying birds, walked gracefully with the swans, sat with the cranes and danced with the peacocks.

They tugged the tails of young monkeys, climbed trees with them, copied their faces and leaped with them from branch to branch.

They jumped across streams together with the frogs, laughed at their own reflections and shouted mock insults at their echoes.

Those boys, who had accumulated vast stores of merit, thus played with Him who is the bliss of Brahman for the wise, the Supreme Deity for those who serve Him, and merely a human child for those sheltered by māyā.

Even disciplined yogīs cannot attain the dust of His feet after the severe practice of many births. Yet He stood personally before the eyes of Vraja's residents. What, then, can adequately describe their good fortune?

Then the great demon named Agha rushed upon them, unable to tolerate the sight of their joyful play. Even the immortal gods, though they had drunk nectar, continually awaited his death.

Seeing the children headed by Kṛṣṇa, Aghāsura, younger brother of Bakī and Baka and acting under Kaṃsa's orders, thought, "This Kṛṣṇa killed my brother and sister. I shall now kill Him together with Balarāma."

These boys are the very life of the people of Vraja. When I have made them the funeral offering for my brother and sister, the residents of Vraja will be as good as dead. When the life-breath departs, who worries about the body?

Resolving in this way, the wicked demon assumed the wondrous body of an enormous python, a yojana long and thick as a great mountain. He lay across the path with his cave-like mouth open, intending to swallow them.

His lower lip rested upon the earth and his upper lip touched the clouds; the end of his mouth resembled a mountain cave, his fangs mountain peaks, and his tongue a broad road. Darkness filled his mouth, his breath was a harsh wind and his gaze burned like wildfire.

Seeing such a form, all the boys took it to be another feature of Vṛndāvana's beauty. Playfully they imagined how it resembled a python's open mouth.

They said, "Friends, tell us: does this creature before us not look like a monstrous serpent that has opened its mouth to swallow us?

It truly does. That cloud reddened by the sun's rays resembles its upper jaw, and the bank, reddened by the cloud's reflection, looks like its lower jaw.

The caves on the left and right within the mountain resemble the corners of its mouth. Look also at these high mountain peaks, which resemble its fangs.

This long, broad path resembles its tongue. The darkness within the mountains looks like the inside of its mouth.

See how this hot, fierce wind resembles its breath. The foul odor of creatures burned by the forest fire smells like raw flesh within its belly.

Will it swallow us after we enter? If it does, it will immediately perish like Baka. Kṛṣṇa will kill it!" Gazing at the radiant face of Baka's enemy, they laughed loudly, clapped their hands and walked inside.

The boys spoke to one another in this way, imagining what was not true because they did not know the demon. Bhagavān, who dwells in the hearts of all beings, recognized the rākṣasa and considered how to stop His companions.

By then, however, the children and calves had entered the demon's belly. He did not swallow them yet, for he was waiting for Baka's enemy to enter and was remembering his slain brother and sister.

Kṛṣṇa, giver of freedom from every fear, saw His helpless companions, who had no protector other than Him, fallen from His hand and about to become fuel for the fire in death's belly. Struck with compassion, He marveled at what destiny had arranged.

He considered: "What should be done? This wicked being must not remain alive, yet these innocent children must not be harmed. How can both aims be achieved?" Knowing the answer, all-seeing Hari entered the demon's mouth.

At that moment the gods hidden behind the clouds cried out in fear, "Alas! Alas!" But Kaṃsa and the other rākṣasas, allies of Agha, rejoiced.

Hearing the gods' cries, imperishable Bhagavān Kṛṣṇa, whom the demon intended to crush together with the children and calves, swiftly expanded Himself within the demon's throat.

The passage of the gigantic demon's throat was blocked. His eyes bulged as he thrashed about in every direction, and the air trapped within his full body could not escape. At last it burst through the crown of his head and went out.

When all the demon's life-breaths had departed by that opening, Mukunda restored the dead calves and friends with His own glance. Then Bhagavān emerged from the mouth together with them.

A wondrous, brilliant light rose from the great python's body and illuminated the ten directions with its own radiance. It remained in the sky awaiting the Lord's emergence, and then, as the gods watched, it entered Him.

The gods, overwhelmed with joy, worshiped Him with showers of flowers; the celestial maidens danced; the Gandharvas sang; musicians played their instruments; brāhmaṇas offered hymns; and the divine hosts cried out in victory.

The many auspicious sounds of wondrous hymns, fine instruments, songs, victory cries and other celebrations reached Brahmā in his distant abode. He quickly came there, and seeing the glory of the Lord, he was astonished.

O King, for many days the python's wondrous dried skin remained in Vṛndāvana as a cave where the residents of Vraja played.

Hari performed this childhood deed, saving Himself and His companions from the serpent and from death, yet the boys did not describe it in Vraja until their later childhood. Amazed, they spoke of it only then.

This is not astonishing for the Supreme Creator of higher and lower beings, who had assumed the illusion of a human child. Even Agha had his sins washed away by the Lord's touch and attained a form like His, a destination exceedingly rare for the wicked.

If merely placing a mental image of His body within the heart even once can grant the destination of Bhagavān's devotees, what need be said of Agha, within whom that very Lord entered, He whose eternal experience of the Self's bliss had driven māyā far away?

Śrī Sūta said: O brāhmaṇas, after Yādavadeva Parīkṣit heard the wondrous deed of his own Lord, his mind became absorbed in it. He again questioned Vyāsa's son about that same sacred account.

The noble king said: O brāhmaṇa, how could an event performed at one time be spoken of as though it happened at another? Why did the boys describe during their later childhood what Hari had done in early childhood?

Explain this to me, great yogī and spiritual guide, for I am supremely curious. Surely this could only be Hari's māyā and nothing else.

Though merely relatives of the warrior order, we are the most fortunate people in the world, O teacher, for again and again we drink from you the sacred nectar of narrations about Kṛṣṇa.

Śrī Sūta said: Questioned in this way, Bādarāyaṇa's son remembered the infinite Lord, who captured his heart and all his senses. With difficulty he gradually regained awareness of the outer world, and then replied to Parīkṣit, the very best of Bhagavān's foremost devotees.