KRISHNA CORIOLIS#3: Flute of Vrindavan

by Ashok K. Banker

  ‘Those two rapscallions?’ she said. ‘They’ll drive all the poor little ones into the water and dance on their backs playing the flute!’

  For an instant, Nanda actually imagine Krishna and Balarama dancing on the backs of the poor submerged calves as they lowed and protested noisily. Then he shook his head. ‘You might be surprised. Sometimes the best way to curb mischief is to give a naughty child responsibility.’

  ‘Isn’t that a contradiction?’ she asked. ‘Should responsible chores be given to well-behaved children?’

  He shrugged. ‘Of course. But even the naughtiest children do grow out of their mischievous ways in time. And one way to help them do that is to give them early responsibilities. I think what our two rascals need is something useful to do, something that takes up just enough of their attention and energy to keep them from getting into mischief all the time. Oh, they won’t stop altogether, don’t expect miracles overnight. But it is hard to be frolicking and running around when you have a herd of calves to watch over and bring back at end of day.’

  Yashoda was doubtful about the idea but agreed to it if only to see if Nanda was right. ‘The only thing that worries me,’ she said thoughtfully, ‘is those poor calves!’

  Nanda chuckled. ‘My dearest one, I think you will find that our little dark lord and his brother will be more gentle with those poor calves than with all the other children in Gokul...’ he corrected himself, ‘in Vrindavan, I mean.’

  She nodded but her brow remained furrowed.

  ***

  Now, Krishna and Balarama sprinted up the hillside. Only a little while ago all the calves had been on this hillside, around the lake. When had they gone over the hill and why? There was water on the lakeside slope, fresh green grass...there was no reason for them to trudge uphill suddenly.

  As they reached the top of the hill, they saw the reason.

  One of the calves appeared to have gone mad. It was running from one end of the pasture to another, head-butting its fellow calves, driving them farther away from the lakeside. The other calves were all crying out in protest but moving in the direction they were being herded. The mad calf was galloping like a manic horse rather than a young cow, rearing up and kicking backwards and snorting angrily.

  ‘What’s gotten into Gauri 56?’ asked Balarama. Since almost all cows were given the same handful of names, Krishna and he had decided that they would attach numbers to the names to distinguish between the various namesakes. Gauri, literally meaning White-Face or Fair, was one of the most common since most Vraj cows tended to be white and brown in patches.

  Krishna narrowed his eyes. ‘That’s not Gauri 56,’ he said quietly, in an odd tone. ‘It’s not one of our calves at all.’

  Balarama frowned. ‘Then whose is it?’

  Krishna turned and looked at him sharply. Balarama looked at his brother’s eyes and saw the blue sky reflected in them. Then he realized what he was seeing was not blue sky at all, but simply the colour blue. The whites of Krishna’s eyes had turned deep blue. And in his black pupils something blazed deep within, like a banked fire smoldering.

  ‘Uh oh,’ Balarama said, recognizing that look from past encounters. ‘Here be asuras.’

  And then, in a wink of an eye, Krishna was gone. Balarama felt a faint wind as his brother shot away, but neither saw Krishna’s body blurring nor his passage from this hill rise down to the meadow below, some two hundred yards away. It was as if Krishna had vanished from this spot and reappeared there. It was one of the many things that Krishna could do but Balarama could not.

  ‘Not fair,’ Balarama grumbled. ‘You always do that!’

  He sprinted downhill, compelled to cover the same ground in a more mortal manner, by running fast. But he could see that he would not reach in time to actually do much. That was why Krishna had used that particular means of travel: to put himself in harm’s way first and protect his brother. It was what he always did.

  ‘Not fair,’ Balarama grumbled again as he ran downhill, gathering speed. ‘I’m the older brother, I’m supposed to take care of you!’

  ***

  Krishna smelt the demon. It was an oddly pleasant odor, sweetish, slightly milky, and not unpleasant. Even had he not possessed preternatural instincts, he would have guessed something was amiss with this particular calf. Real calves never smelled sweetly. They stank of dried cow dung, stale milk, and half-chewed cud which they often vomited up. Those were the smells he associated with them and for which he loved them. They were the smells of nature, of life itself, of eating and defecating and growing. This odor from the demoniac calf was too unnatural, too perfumed to be real. Only a demon would try to make itself alluring. Real calves were too busy surviving and didn’t care to impress anyone!

  But if the demon calf had intended to lure Krishna somehow, it was doing a poor job of it. Right now, all it seemed intent on doing was herding the calves in that particular South-West direction. Why? Krishna watched as the demon calf roared and reared up on its hind legs, literally exuding fire from its nostrils before dropping down on the ground with a thud and lowering its head threateningly. Terrified, the calves were running now, starting to stampede in panic. This appeared to be what the demon calf wanted: to stampede the calves in that direction. What purpose would that serve?

  The demon calf turned to face Krishna. It was grinning. There was no other way to describe the look on its bovine features: its lips were curled, revealing big white cow teeth, and its ears were twitching madly though here wasn’t a fly in sight. It stamped its fore hooves on the ground, challenging him, then lowered its head, snorting flames from its nostrils.

  It meant to charge him.

  He had no issue with that. He would have charged the demon anyway.

  But the calf herd was stampeding madly away, already several hundred yards distant and running faster. The demon calf had stampeded them for a reason, he knew. It could have torn them to pieces, killed several if it wished before Krishna reached in time and stopped it. Instead, all it wanted was to send the calves running.

  Suddenly, Krishna knew why.

  ‘Balarama!’ he shouted. ‘Stop the calves!’

  He felt a rush of air pass by and saw the blurring fair body of his brother go racing past time. Balarama could not travel as Krishna could but he could run very fast when he cared to and he was running his fastest now. Krishna felt a surge of relief. Thank the Goddess he had Balarama with him. Otherwise, he would have been forced to choose between fighting the demon calf and saving the calves.

  Now, he could concentrate on the demon calf.

  ‘Come on,’ he shouted at the calf, still stamping its feet and snorting fire. ‘Come on then.’

  The calf lunged forward, coming at him at an all-out run, its head lowered. As it came, horns sprouted instantly from its head. Not the usual two but a whole thorn-thicket of them, twisted, pointed, razor-edged horns such as nature never produced, each one deadly enough to rip flesh and tear skin to shreds. As it came closer, the horns continued to grow blurringly fast, as long as swords now, then as long as spears, and still growing. Evidently, they were supposed to keep growing even as they struck the enemy and ravaged his body. So that was this demon’s ‘thing’.

  Krishna roared and spread his arms, as if preparing to embrace a friend.

  The calf demon crashed into his belly, the horns piercing his body in a dozen places and punching through his flesh and skin and bone. The calf demon roared its triumph and pounded over the ground where Krishna stood.

  ***

  Balarama sped after the calf herd. At first, even he did not understand Krishna’s concern. Then he thought about the direction in which they were racing and understood at once.

  There was a gulch in that direction. Perhaps twenty or twenty five yards deep, and lined with sharp rocks and thorny scrub at the bottom. If the calves continued their stampede they would certainly tumble over the edge and fall into the gulch, killing or maiming almost every last one of them. So that had been
the demon calf’s intention. Devilishly clever. And so mean. To slaughter an entire herd of innocent calves just to distract Krishna.

  But the demon calf had not counted on Krishna having an ally equally capable of fighting - or helping.

  Balarama overtook the stampeding herd on the far right side. He blurred past the calves, glancing to his left to see startled white-eyed bovine faces downturned in terror. To the calves the demon calf had been their worst fear realized. A predator who looked just like one of them. Any animal could have startled them but it was the unexpected shock of seeing one of their own behave that way that had driven them to panic so quickly and easily.

  He was ahead of the herd now and could see the gulch only a few dozen yards ahead. It would be very close. He put on one final burst of speed, then cut inwards, in front of the stampeding herd. He heard the leaders low in protest but they kept heading straight on. They were boxed in by now with the large boulders that strewed this field and could only make a turn gradually. He would not be able to turn they aside away from harm’s way.

  That meant he had only one option.

  He reached what seemed like a good spot and quickly pushed boulders from either side inwards, blocking the way ahead until only a fairly narrow passage was left. Just about room for a half dozen head of calves to pass through.

  He stationed himself in this passage between the boulders, facing the oncoming stampede, and spread his legs, raising his hands, bracing himself.

  The first calves struck his outstretched hands with terrific impact. They were not full-grown cows, but then again, neither was he full-grown. It took all his strength and will to keep from being knocked off his feet and ridden over. He held his ground as calf after calf piled up against the leaders, their combined weight and momentum pushing him backwards, his feet skidding in the grassy dirt as he was shoved backwards. He dared not turn his head to see how far he was from the edge but knew it could not be more than a few yards now. And still the calf herd pushed, pushing madly.

  Balarama clung on madly, fighting now for not just the lives of the calf herd but his own as well. For if he fell into that gulch now, he would have a hundred head of half-grown cows falling on top of him and he had no desire to know what that might do to him.

  ***

  Krishna felt the calf demon’s vicious horns ripping through his skin and flesh. He felt the pain that he would have felt had he been merely mortal. He also felt the fiery sensation that was more than any mortal could have felt. That was specially for him. Some kind of asura poison that only affected devas and their amsas or avatars. He felt the demon’s exhilaration at having accomplished his mission. He even read the calf demon’s thoughts.

  ‘Lord of asuras be praised! I have done what even mighty Putana and Trnavarta could not accomplish! I have slain the Slayer! I shall be richly rewarded for this. A hundred brahmins shall I feast on tonight once my lord rewards my success.’

  Krishna focussed his energy on the parts of his body that had been torn and damaged by the asura’s horns and poison. He felt the milk of Anantha seeping through him, culled from the ethereal realm of Vaikunta, felt it healing, repairing, rebuilding. In moments, his mortal body was whole again, as undamaged and unblemished as it had been before the calf demon’s charge.

  ‘Not so fast,’ he said aloud to the demon. ‘Before you get to feast you have to finish your mission.’

  The calf demon had raced past him after goring his body. Now, it swung around, hooves kicking up sods of earth and clods of grassy mud as it turned its bovine body. Its large cow eyes bulged as it looked at little Krishna, still standing, arms akimbo, untouched.

  ‘But...I gored you!’ it cried out in anger and frustration. ‘I felt the flesh rip! I saw your blood splatter. I smelled your vile mortal smell.’

  ‘Yes,’ Krishna said, the blue of his whites now expanding to fill the entire well of his eye sockets, his black pupils disappearing to tiny pinpoints within an ocean of deep blue, the blue glow spilling out from his eyes, flashing out like liquid light to extend for yards around him, like the light of a lamp in darkness. ‘Now see my non-mortal side.’

  And this time he charged the calf demon, roaring and lowering his head.

  The beast had not admitted defeat yet. With a bellow of fury, it lowered its head and lurched forward, combining the little boy’s momentum with its own furious charge.

  Child and calf met in a collision so resounding that birds fell stunned from trees, fish held still in the lake, and all across Vrindavan, every Vrishni heard the sound and looked up at the sky, mistaking it for a clap of thunder.

  ***

  Balarama heard the sound too but was too busy to pay it heed. The first of the herd had struck him at almost the same instant, and he was using all his considerable strength to act as a wall. One after another, the calves crashed into each other, their forward momentum driving the whole group forward, each impact pushing Balarama’s feet inches backward - towards the yawning gorge. He could not turn to see how far behind the edge was now, but he knew he had already been pushed several yards past the boulders he had hurriedly shoved together. Which meant he must be close...

  He felt the back of one foot scrabbling for purchase, meeting only empty air.

  Another calf, a laggard, struck the back of the herd. Balarama bellowed with strain as he pushed back, shoving with all his might. The struggle he faced was not merely one of strength but one of size. Powerfully endowed though he was with supernatural energy, the strength of the eternal serpent himself, as well as a portion of Vishnu’s own energies, he was limited by his human form. And right now, that form was the body of a little boy. As it was, his hands were raised up to their limit, holding the snout of one calf and the hump of another, his little feet scrabbling for a hold on the gritty ground.

  He roared again, not merely restraining now, but actively pushing forward.

  The calf herd lowed and called out in protest as they felt their own hooves pushed backwards, slipping back over the ground, digging furrows in the earth.

  ‘Back!’ Balarama yelled. ‘Back, you idiots!’

  Something of his intent must have communicated itself to the herd. Or perhaps his shoving tipped them off. Either way, they began to turn head and move back the way they had come from. They milled about in confusion, unsure which way to go to escape from the danger.

  ‘Back, you fools!’ Balarama said, as he slapped the last of them away from him.

  He took a moment or two to catch his breath and wipe the sweat from his brow.

  Only then did he turn and look back.

  Directly down at the gorge, right below his feet.

  3

  They regrouped by the lake, after counting every last head of the herd to ensure that none had run off or been harmed. For once, they also looked at each calf’s snout, just to ensure that none were calf demons mingled with the rest, biding their time. One of the older calves, a female, opened her mouth and gave Balarama a good look at a mouthful of half-chewed cud before spitting it out at him.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said quietly, wiping off the mess without malice. ‘But I’m not hungry right now.’

  He patted her neck affectionately, proud of the fact that he had not lost a single one.

  ‘That wasn’t so bad,’ he said, turning back to Krishna.

  Then stopped.

  Krishna was staring at the lake.

  Balarama looked.

  He could see nothing out of the ordinary.

  Just the lake, the trees, creepers, vines, flowers, birds, a few kraunchya with their thin legs in the shallows, dipping their long beaks in search of fish..

  ‘What is it, brother?’ he asked, puzzled.

  Krishna inclined his head slightly.

  ‘Demons,’ he said. ‘I can still smell them.’

  Balarama frowned. What did that ‘still’ mean? Krishna hadn’t mentioned smelling any in the first place. Oh wait. He remembered Krishna saying something about keeping their eyes open and their s
enses alert the very day they came to Vrindavan. But that had been a while ago. Nothing untoward had happened since then. Balarama had come to think that perhaps they would be able to spend their time in play here. He liked the place just as much as his mother Rohini did. He liked the fact that she was happy here. It made him happy as well. But Krishna had been acting different ever since they had arrived. He was not as mischievous as before. Nor as radical in his pranks and tricks. It was as if he had been waiting. Waiting for what?

  Waiting for this.

  For the asuras to emerge and show themselves. And attack.

  And it seemed that day had come.

  ***

  Krishna knew the demon was close by. But he could not make out where it was or in what form. All he could do was wait for it to show itself.