Canto Ten - Chapter 16

Śrī Śuka said: Seeing the Yamunā polluted by the black serpent Kāliya, the all-powerful Kṛṣṇa desired to purify the river and drove the serpent away from it.

The King said: O brāhmaṇa, how did Bhagavān subdue the serpent within those deep waters, and how had Kāliya come to live there for so many ages? Please tell me.

O brāhmaṇa, who could ever be satisfied while relishing the nectar of the sublime cowherd deeds of the boundless Bhagavān, who acts according to His own free will?

Śrī Śuka said: Within the Yamunā was a lake belonging to Kāliya. Its water boiled with the fire of his poison, and birds flying above it fell into the lake.

Both stationary and moving creatures upon its bank died when touched by the wind that carried droplets from its poisonous waves.

Seeing the violent potency of Kāliya's poison and the river contaminated by it, Kṛṣṇa, who had descended to restrain the wicked, climbed a very tall kadamba tree. Tightening His belt and slapping His arms, He plunged into the poisoned water.

The force of that supreme person's plunge churned the serpent lake, whose mass of water was already heaving from the snake's poison. Terrifying, poison-laden waves overflowed and raced outward for a hundred bow lengths. But what significance could that have before the strength of the infinite Lord?

My dear King, as Kṛṣṇa sported in the lake with the prowess of a magnificent elephant, the turning of His powerful arms made the water thunder. Hearing the sound and seeing his dwelling invaded, the serpent rushed forward, unable to tolerate it.

Kāliya saw the beautiful, tender Lord, radiant like a dark cloud, marked with Śrīvatsa and dressed in yellow, His smiling face lovely and His feet like the hearts of lotuses. As Kṛṣṇa played fearlessly, the serpent angrily bit His vital parts and enveloped Him in his coils.

Seeing Kṛṣṇa motionless within the serpent's coils, His beloved cowherd friends were overwhelmed with anguish. Having entrusted to Kṛṣṇa their very selves, relatives, possessions, families and desires, they lost awareness from pain, grief and fear and fell to the ground.

The cows, bulls and young calves cried out in intense distress. Their eyes fixed upon Kṛṣṇa, they stood terrified as though weeping.

Then three kinds of extremely dreadful omens arose in Vraja, upon the earth, in the heavens and within the body, foretelling imminent danger.

Seeing those omens, Nanda and the other cowherds became deeply alarmed. They knew that Kṛṣṇa had gone to graze the cows without Balarāma.

Not understanding the truth, they took the evil signs to mean that death had overtaken Him. Their very lives and minds centered upon Kṛṣṇa, they were afflicted by pain, grief and fear.

My dear King, everyone, children, elders and women alike, lived only for Kṛṣṇa. Miserable and eager to see Him, they all rushed out of Gokula.

Seeing them so distraught, Bhagavān Balarāma, who knew the power of His younger brother, merely smiled and said nothing.

Searching for their beloved Kṛṣṇa, they followed the trail indicated by His footprints, marked with the emblems of Bhagavān, and reached the bank of the Yamunā.

O King, hurrying along the path among the many hoofprints of the cows, they repeatedly recognized the Lord's footprints, adorned with the lotus, barleycorn, elephant goad, thunderbolt and banner.

From a distance they saw Kṛṣṇa motionless within the serpent's coils in the middle of the lake. At the water's edge, the cowherd boys had lost all reason, and the animals cried around them. Stricken with anguish, the people of Vraja fell into the deepest despair.

The gopīs' minds were lovingly fixed upon the infinite Bhagavān. Remembering His affection, smiles, glances and words, they burned with intense grief when their dearest beloved was seized by the serpent and saw the three worlds as empty in His absence.

Sharing Yaśodā's pain as she seemed ready to enter the lake after her son, the gopīs held her back while tears of sorrow flowed. Their eyes fixed upon Kṛṣṇa's face and their bodies resembling those of the dead, they recounted His many beloved deeds in Vraja.

Seeing Nanda and the others, whose very life was Kṛṣṇa, preparing to enter the lake, Bhagavān Balarāma restrained them, for He knew Kṛṣṇa's power.

Seeing all of Gokula, with its women and children, having no refuge but Him and suffering terribly on His account, Kṛṣṇa understood their condition. Continuing to act like a mortal, He remained still for a moment and then rose up from the serpent's bonds.

As Kṛṣṇa expanded His body, the serpent's coils became painful and Kāliya released Him. Enraged, the snake raised his hoods and stood breathing heavily, poison issuing from his nostrils. His eyes were rigid and his face blazed like fire as he stared at Hari.

Kāliya licked both corners of his mouth with his forked tongue, his gaze terrifying with poisonous fire. Kṛṣṇa playfully circled him like Garuḍa, while the serpent turned about, watching for an opportunity to strike.

After the circling had exhausted Kāliya's strength, the primeval Lord pressed down his raised shoulders and climbed upon his broad heads. The touch of the many jewels upon those heads made Kṛṣṇa's lotus feet glow deep red, and He, the original master of every art, began to dance.

When Kṛṣṇa's associates among the Gandharvas, Siddhas, sages, Cāraṇas and celestial women saw Him begin to dance, they at once approached in delight with mṛdaṅgas, paṇavas and ānakas, songs, offerings of flowers and prayers.

My dear King, whenever one of the hundred-and-one-headed serpent's hoods refused to bow, Kṛṣṇa, as a stern punisher, crushed it with the strike of His foot. Kāliya's life force waned; reeling, he vomited abundant blood from his mouths and nostrils and fell into extreme distress.

As Kāliya angrily breathed hard and emitted poison from his eyes, every head he tried to raise was bent down by the dancing steps of the primeval Person, who subdued him while the gods worshiped Him with flowers.

O King, Kāliya's many hoods were shattered by that wondrous dance, his limbs broken, and blood poured profusely from his mouths. Remembering that Kṛṣṇa was the primeval Person Nārāyaṇa, teacher of all moving and unmoving beings, he mentally took shelter of Him.

Kāliya's wives saw their serpent husband collapsing beneath the immense weight of Kṛṣṇa, within whom the universe rests, his canopy of hoods shattered by the blows of the Lord's heels. In anguish they approached the primeval Lord, their clothes, ornaments and bound hair loosened.

Deeply distressed, those virtuous wives placed their children before them, prostrated their bodies upon the earth and bowed to the Lord of all beings. Joining their palms and desiring their sinful husband's release, they sought refuge in Him who grants shelter to all.

The wives of the serpent said: The punishment of this offender is just, for You have descended to restrain the wicked. You look equally upon enemies and Your own sons, and the discipline You impose bestows the fitting result of each one's acts.

This punishment is truly Your mercy upon us, for the chastisement You give the wicked removes their sins. Since his birth as a venomous serpent is itself the result of sin, even Your anger toward him must be regarded as grace.

What austerities did he perform well in a former life? Did he abandon pride while honoring others, or practice compassion toward all beings through some righteous act, so that You, the life of all, are now pleased with him?

O Lord, we do not know by what influence he became qualified to receive the dust of Your feet. To attain that dust, the goddess Śrī abandoned all other desires, observed vows for a very long time and performed austerities.

Those who take shelter of the dust of Your feet desire neither heaven, universal sovereignty, the post of Brahmā, dominion over the lower worlds, yogic perfections nor even freedom from rebirth.

O Lord, this serpent king, born in darkness and ruled by anger, has nevertheless attained what is difficult for others to attain. For embodied beings wandering through the cycle of birth and death, every blessing becomes manifest when they desire the dust of Your feet.

We bow to You, Bhagavān, the supreme Person and great Self, the dwelling of all beings and their very existence, the transcendent Supreme Self.

We bow to You, the treasury of knowledge and realization, the infinite Brahman of limitless power, beyond the modes yet manifest as material nature, changeless and free from material qualities.

We bow to You as time, the hub of time and the witness of all its divisions; as the universe, its observer and maker, and the cause of the universe.

You are the inner self of the elements, subtle objects, senses, vital airs, mind, intelligence and consciousness, yet direct awareness of Your own Self is hidden by identification with the three modes.

Obeisance to You, the infinite, subtle, unchanging omniscient Lord, who accommodates diverse philosophies and possesses the power of both the word and its meaning.

Again and again we bow to You, the foundation of all valid knowledge, the omniscient sage and source of scripture, who is both the path of worldly engagement and the path of renunciation, the Veda itself.

Obeisance to Kṛṣṇa, to Rāma and to the son of Vasudeva; obeisance to Pradyumna and Aniruddha, and to the Lord of the Sātvatas.

We bow to You who reveal the modes, veil the Self through the modes, are perceived through their functions, witness them and remain self-aware.

O Hṛṣīkeśa, obeisance to You who sport within the unmanifest yet bring all manifestation to perfection, the silent sage whose nature is inward stillness.

Obeisance to You who know the destinies of high and low and preside over all; who are distinct from the universe and yet are the universe, its witness and its cause.

O all-powerful Lord, inactive in Yourself yet bearing the potency of beginningless time, You bring about this universe's creation, maintenance and dissolution through the modes. Awakening the dormant natures of beings by Your glance, You act in Your unfailing play.

All peaceful, restless and deluded species in the three worlds are bodies of You alone. Yet the peaceful are dear to You, and now, desiring to preserve righteousness and protect the virtuous, You stand here on their behalf.

A master should forgive an offense committed once by his own dependent. O peaceful Lord, please forgive this foolish creature, who did not know You.

Show mercy, Bhagavān, for the serpent is giving up his life. Our husband is our very life; please restore him to us, women worthy of the compassion of the holy.

Please command us, Your maidservants, what we must do. One who faithfully carries out Your command is freed from fear on every side.

Śrī Śuka said: Thus praised by the serpent's wives, Bhagavān stopped striking Kāliya with His feet and released him, though his heads were broken and he lay unconscious.

Gradually regaining his senses and life force, Kāliya breathed with great difficulty. Miserable and subdued, he joined his palms and spoke to Kṛṣṇa.

Kāliya said: We are wicked by birth, born in the mode of darkness and given to prolonged anger. O Lord, the nature by which living beings cling to the unreal is very difficult to abandon.

O creator, You made this universe with its varied distribution of the modes, its many natures, strengths, energies, wombs, seeds, inclinations and forms.

Among them, Bhagavān, we serpents are by birth intensely wrathful. Bewildered by Your māyā, which is so difficult to escape, how can we abandon it by ourselves?

You are the cause of that nature, the all-knowing Lord of the universe. Whether You consider mercy or punishment appropriate, please ordain it for us.

Śrī Śuka said: Hearing these words, Bhagavān, who was acting in a human role, replied, 'Serpent, you must not remain here. Go at once to the ocean, accompanied by your relatives, children and wives, for this river is to be enjoyed by cows and human beings.'

Any mortal who remembers this command I have given you and recites it at both dawn and dusk will have nothing to fear from your serpent race.

One who bathes in this place of My sport, offers its water to the gods and others, fasts, remembers Me and worships Me will be freed from every sin.

You abandoned Ramaṇaka Island and took shelter in this lake out of fear of Garuḍa. Now he will not eat you, for you are marked by My footprints.

The sage said: O King, released by Bhagavān Kṛṣṇa, whose deeds are wondrous, Kāliya and his wives joyfully worshiped Him with reverence.

They offered divine garments and garlands, priceless jewels and ornaments, celestial fragrances and ointments, and a magnificent garland of lotuses.

Having worshiped the Lord of the universe and pleased Him who bears Garuḍa upon His banner, Kāliya joyfully received permission to depart, circumambulated Him and bowed down.

Together with his wives, friends and children, Kāliya went to the island in the ocean. At that very moment the Yamunā's water became nectar-sweet and free from poison by the grace of Bhagavān, who had assumed a human form for His play.