Yashodha sat in the empty courtyard, her chores all done for the day. The grief of separation from her beloved Kanha never left her heart. Every day, she hoped he would come visit her. But she knew, in the depths of her heart, that it might not be possible now that her karmic connection, at least in physical form, was severed with Krishna the day he left for Mathura.
Yashodha Pines for Kanha
She knew in the depths of her heart that he was sent to her so that she could keep him safe and look after him only till he was ready for the world beyond her hearth and heart. She knew in the depths of her heart the day she laid eyes on him lying next to her on her labour bed, his eyes twinkling with a smile. The primary purpose of this birth was to be his mother, temporarily, and then deal with the pangs of separation.
Yet, her hope that she would one day be with him never left her heart. So, she sat in her courtyard, her heart empty but her mind full of wondrous memories of the time she spent with Kanha in this house. She saw the big mortar and pestle and recalled the particularly difficult day she had tied him to it because he had been overly naughty and mischievous. The neighbours had all complained that he was stealing their butter.
Totally knackered and angered by the numerous complaints, she had tied him to that gigantic mortar and pestle. That day, he liberated Kubera’s sons, Nalakuvara and Manigriva, who had been cursed by Sage Narada to become Arjuna trees for a hundred years until Lord Vishnu reincarnated as Krishna could end their curse in Vrindavan.
Kanha was a small child, crawling and tottering around entire Vrindavan, stealing not only butter but the hearts of everyone in the village. Balarama, Rohini’s son, and he were fast friends. Now Yashodha knew they were not just friends but brothers, born to two mothers but fathered by Vasudeva. And she was nothing but a small cog in the gigantic cosmic universe whose job was done, but her life wasn’t. How was she to live alone with only memories of her dear, dear Kanha?
Oh! I wish these relentless thoughts would go away. These nagging thoughts drained her mental energy and did little to suppress the deep desire to hold Kanha one more time, to see him one more time.
Yashodha, Kanha, and the Cosmos
To see him one more time? This thought triggered a memory etched deep in her soul, a memory she had refused to accept. A sight she had seen but had relegated to a hallucination in her mind. The sight that told her, even as he crawled around as a baby, that her Kanha wasn’t an ordinary child. That he had come for a divine purpose, beyond her limited human understanding.
That day, she was watching Kanha play in the courtyard with kitchen knick-knacks, his favourite pastime. Usually, there was always someone with him, this neighbour or that. Sometimes, more than one lady would come on the pretext of talking to her but really only to sit and admire Kanha.
That day, for reasons she couldn’t recollect, he was alone in the courtyard. And she was alone in the kitchen getting the day’s meal ready. Her husband had gone to the fields for work. She remembered the limitless joy in her heart as she watched her little one play by himself, totally content in his world.
He looked up at her, smiled through the kitchen window, and her heart lurched with inexplicable bliss. She could recall that sense of bliss even now as she sat alone in the empty courtyard.
Then, suddenly, he had tottered to the edge of the courtyard, and before she could react, he picked up some mud in his little hands and put it into his mouth. Aghast, she ran out of the kitchen.
“What have you done, Kanha? Spit it out now!” She yelled angrily, her anger rooted in fear of something bad happening to her little one.
“Spit it out, right now!” She yelled as Kanha clamped his mouth shut even tighter.
She was now livid. “If you don’t open your mouth, see what I will do.” She gave a small tap on his face, and he had, just like that, opened his mouth.
His mouth was as clean as a pin, no mud at all. But she was something that shook her. The entire universe seemed to be subsumed in her child’s mouth. The earth, sky, oceans, jungles, valleys, mountains, people, animals, the sun, moon, stars, planets, the unending empty space between these planetary objects, and the entire cosmos.
She sat staring into her son’s mouth, mesmerised and stunned. She was transported to some other universe, or so she thought.
“Yashodha! Yashodha!” It was her husband calling her. He had returned from work. Startled out of her reverie, she turned towards the gate as Nand opened it and walked in.
She then turned back towards Krishna. His mouth was closed, and he wore that familiar, innocent smile. Without even looking at her, he waddled toward his father, who picked him up, threw him in the air, and caught him as the child fell securely into his arms, watching in delight as the little bundle of joy laughed.
“Again! Again!” Kanha urged his father to throw him up again. This time, while he was up in the air, he turned and saw his mother, still lost in thought. He had smiled; this time, the smile held more than innocence. It held some deep meaning that she fathomed only today as she sat alone, lost in his memories.
He was not just her child. He was the cosmos. She had merely raised him in accordance with her karmic calling. That karma was done, and he had left. That’s all there was to this human birth.
She sighed and told herself that she would recall that memory of seeing the cosmos in her child’s mouth every time she felt sorry for herself. She had performed her karma diligently, and that’s all there was to it.
“Yashodha!”
There, Nand had returned from work, and he needed his lunch. She got up, walked into the kitchen, and told her husband, “Freshen up and come for lunch.”
Author’s Note:
Pictures created using ChatGPT. This post is a part of Blogchatter Half Marathon 2.0.
