Akrur came to take me to Mathura on a
special invitation from the King, the much-
hated, much-feared Kansa. Dau, Lady
Rohini''s son, was also invited. Dau was the
son of Lord Vasudev. Lord Vasudev being
held prisoner by Kansa along with his second
wife Devaki for over twelve years. Dau used
to live with us. He was a couple of months
older than me. He was my brother, my
friend, and my confidante-most of the time.
The day Akrur came, I had been hanging out
with Radha all morning. A sense of
foreboding seemed to have been plaguing
her. I had a feeling it was more about me
frolicking about too much with my other
friends, not spending enough time with her. I
had been trying my best to lift her spirits, but
it was one of those days when even my
music could not hold her attention. She was
quiet, withdrawn, and sat lost in her
thoughts, unsmiling, uninterested.
Deciding to give some space to deal with
whatever was more important than me, I
headed back home feeling annoyed with
Radha, hoping to find solace in the
buttermilk ma must have kept aside for me.
I came home to chaos. Ma was crying,
shouting at Baba and a gentleman I had not
previously met. The story of my birth, the
secret, was finally out. That Ma was finding
it difficult to accept would be an
understatement. All the assaults on my life
had been the handiwork of King Kansa. I
was born of Devaki, the King was my uncle,
and he wanted me in Mathura. The King had
invited me as a guest along with Dau to
witness the glory of his dominion in the
Dhanush Yagya celebrations.
A month after Akrur had walked out of
Devaki and Vasudev''s prison cell holding the
baby girl wrapped in a shawl leaving Kansa
confused and perplexed, one of the Vrishni
guards who had arranged the horse for
Vasudev had blabbered in drunken abandon
about the incident. The guard meant no
harm. He was loyal to the Vrishni clan and
Vasudev, just a little too fond of alcohol.
Alcohol has a strange and varied effect on
those who partake of it. It can make you do
crazy things, steep a coward in bravery, soak
a brave heart in fear. An introverted recluse
will seek company, and the gregarious will
become aloof. In this case, our normally
trustable Vrishni loyal was hit with a bout of
verbosity, and so he talked to his drinking
buddy, telling him how they had saved the
infant who was born to rid the world of the
evil Kansa. He told the story with pride,
feeling a sense of self-importance at having
played a part in shaping history. The
drinking buddy had not been similarly
inebriated and was hardly a buddy. He
reported the man to Kansa''s aide, in return
getting twenty gold coins and a mid-level
position in Kansa''s army.
My birth was an open secret within Kansa''s
coterie of ministers and chieftains. Ma was
still unaware that I was not the child she had
given birth to. Until Akrur came to our
If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.doorstep, looking to take me to Mathura, she
did not know. Her heartbreak was twofold,
they told her I belonged to another woman,
and they said I was to go.
I had always known I wasn''t born to ma and
Baba, at least since I was six. I had a cleft
chin. Ma and Baba did not.
I still believed, however, that they were my
parents, my father Nand, my mother,
Yashoda. They always would be. Years later,
I would continue to think of Devaki and
Vasudev, as Lord Vasudeva and Lady
Devaki, Baba and Ma would always be my
parents. Maybe it was painful for lady
Devaki, but to be completely honest, I never
did think of her much. I have loved many
women. I understand love in many forms.
Unfortunately, lady Devaki was not one of
them.
Ma was on the verge of an emotional
collapse when she had a sudden bout of
clarity, "where is the daughter I birthed?" she
asked Akrur, locking her eyes onto him as if
she would destroy him with laser beams in
the next moment if he were not able to
provide her with an answer.
Every story about my life has mentioned the
daughter born of Yashoda who was replaced
with me. They call her Yogamaya. They say
she disappeared into thin air. The reality is
different. Akrur was present that day in the
prison cell with Kansa. He took her away
with him and handed her to his most trusted
aide, who carried her beyond the borders of
our land. She was taken on a ship to an
island called Japan. The rumours about her
being in the Vindhya Mountains were just
rumours to throw Kansa off. All Akrur knew
was that the people who took her would keep
her safe. They called her Amaterasu, but
there was no way for us to reach her. I later
found out that Amaterasu was worshipped as
a goddess in Japan. I remember chuckling to
myself at the irony of it all. But Amaterasu
would never come back to her home, and we
would never meet on this earth.
I announced to the room, almost drowning in
Ma''s incessant weeping, that I would
accompany Akrur to Mathura. I had killed
Kalia last year. I was not afraid of a human
being; however satanic a king he might be.
Dau would be with me. He was even
stronger than me, and together we could take
on the world. I was growing out of Gokul
Vrindavan. It was time to move on.
Even as I spoke, I felt my heart suddenly,
inexplicably sink. I would be leaving
Vrindavan. I did not know if I would return.
Yet, even at that tender age, I knew myself
self-enough to know that I would not turn
back to look at the past. I was going to
Mathura. This would be the beginning of my
life without Radha.
I headed out; I had to meet her. I needed to
explain. What did I need to explain that I
would come back for? Would I? Would life
permit me to? If I asked her to come to me,
would she? Radha never came to me; it was
always me who went running to find her. My
music flowed through me to reach her, keep
her enthralled by me. She did not need to
resort to such base tricks. She believed I was
hers and hers alone. She did not need to keep
me tied to her with intangible tethers. I was
afraid she would set me free. She did.
Radha had been apprehensive about the
future, a feminine intuition giving her the
sense of an ending. But when I reached her,
agitated, heartbroken at our parting, Radha
was calm. She was trying to smile now that
whatever she had sensed had come to pass.
She was able to accept it with equanimity.
I was bidding goodbye to Radha when I first
hugged her. It was the first time she held me
in the warmth of her embrace. It would also
be the last.