(From the Bhagavata Purana)
Once upon a time the youthful Krishna of lovely appearance, tending his herd of cows and calves, roamed about the beauteous woods of Braj. He was at the age when boys are wont to wear their hair in side-locks called crow’s wings. Being dark of complexion and having donned fine raiment, yellow like the filament of the lotus, he resembled a rain-cloud at the time of twilight. His well-rounded arms, ever revered by the immortals, were busy with staff and rope in tending the calves. His radiant face encompassed by flowing locks, was as a full-blown lotus-flower surrounded by swarms of bees. Adorned with a wreath of various flowers of the wood, which shone like the stars in heaven, and dark-coloured like a cloud in the rainy season, he appeared like the month of Nabhasya embodied. Singing and playing by turns, he roamed about, now blowing through a leaf agreeable to the ear, now piping his lovely cow-herd’s reed. Thus, Krishna wandered with his companions through the cool and shady forests which resounded with the shrill cries of the wild peacocks and re-echoed the thunder of the clouds. Flowing with fresh water and refreshed by cool winds, the forest-ranges exhaled the sweet perfumes of the blossoming trees.
At last he reached the banks of the fleetly flowing Yamuna where the trees were adorned with creepers and the wind was cool through contact with the waves. He beheld the river covered with lotus-flowers and enlivened by the sounds of cranes, geese, and ducks – the broad river-bed intersected with numerous water-channels, forming a multitude of sandy islands.
While wandering along this beauteous river, Krishna beheld a pool of great depth and vast extent like an ocean with unstirring waters. Bare it was of water-born creatures and abandoned by water-haunting birds. Difficult of access it was, as its banks were full of snake-infested holes. Over it there hung a smoke caused by poison-born fire; and its surface was hot with venomous flames. Its water was undrinkable alike for men and beasts, wanting to quench their thirst. Even the birds of the sky did not approach it, and when grass fell in its water it was burnt by its heat.
When Krishna saw this vast pool at the distance of but one kos to the north of Braj, he thought: “In this large pool the fierce lord-of-snakes, whose name is Kaliya, and who resembleth a pile of black antimony, hath plainly taken up his abode. He hath given up his dwelling in the ocean, thus have I heard, out of fear of the king of birds, snake-eating Suparna. By him this whole ocean-speeding Yamuna hath been defiled, and out of fear of the snake-king no one dareth to inhabit this country. This wood abounding in various trees, being guarded by the satellites of the serpent king, is untouchable like poisoned food, which hath the appearance of being without poison. Therefore, I must chastise this king of serpents, so that the stream with its gracious waters may be enjoyed by the people of Braj and that they freely may frequent all its holy sites. For this reason am I dwelling as a cowherd in this land of Braj that I may subdue the wicked that traverse the road of evil.”
After these words, Krishna, having tightly fastened his girdle, nimbly ascended to the top of a kadamba tree and from that tree he threw himself into the middle of the pool. So heavy was his fall that the water gushed up with a jerk and by the noise the great abode of the serpents was shaken. Then the angry Snake, the king of serpents Kaliya, red-eyed with wrath, rose from the pool, resembling a mass of dark clouds. Lifting up his five awful heads, while his five mouths with quivering tongues spat flames and hissed like fire, he filled the whole pool with his huge coils of fiery lustre. By the blaze of his fury the whole water grew seething hot; and the river Yamuna, frightened as it were, recoiled, while from his jaws filled with flames, there came forth an angry blast.
On seeing Krishna in the pool playing in childish sport, the serpent-lord blew from his mouth flames and smoke, so that the trees which stood near along the banks were in a moment reduced to ashes. There rushed out other huge snakes – his sons and wives and servants – spitting dreadful poison-engendered fire. These serpents caught Krishna in their coils so that his feet became entangled and he stood motionless as a mountain. Then they bit him with their sharp fangs frothy with poison, but the hero did not die.
In the meanwhile, the frightened cowherds hastened to Braj, lamenting with voices choked with tears. They told Nanda how Krishna in his folly had dived into the pool and was in imminent danger of being killed by the snakes. With tottering steps the aged cowherd and his wife Yasoda, attended by young and old, betook themselves to the pool and they all stood on the bank weeping and wailing. But Balarama cried out to his brother Krishna: “O Krishna, thou long-armed one, quickly subdue the serpent-king who assaileth thee with his poison. Out kinsfolk, deeming thee a mere mortal, lament piteously, mistaking thee, O Lord, for a human being.”
On hearing these words uttered by Rohini’s son, Krishna stretched forth both his arms and burst asunder the snake’s coils which fettered him. With both his feet he jumped on the huge body of the serpent that issued from the pool, and, suddenly mounting of the large central head of the monster, he danced. Then, being crushed by Krishna, the serpent dropped his heads, and while a flood of blood poured from each mouth, he spake: “In my folly, O Krishna, I have shown this anger. Tamed by thee and deprived of my poison, I have come into thy power, O fair-faced One. Therefore command me; what shall I, together with my wives, offspring, and kinsman, do, or to whom shall I submit? I pray thee; grant me my life.” On seeing the serpent with his five-fold head bent down, Krishna made answer: “An abode in the waters of Yamuna I allow thee not. Go thou to the ocean with thy wives and kinsmen. If anyone of thy sons or servants shall be seen here again either in the water or on the land, I will surely kill him. May this water henceforth be blessed. Go thou to the ocean. When Garuda seeth my foot-prints marked on thy heads, that enemy of thy race will not assail thee.”
The mighty dragon, humbly receiving these words, left the pool before the eyes of the cowherds, and vanished from their sight. After the vanquished snake had gone the cowherds stood amazed and reverently circumambulated Krishna. Then they spake to Nanda, his foster-father: “Blessed art thou and highly favoured in having such a son. Henceforward in all distress Krishna will be the refuge of the cowherds, the kine, and the cow-pen. The waters of Yamuna, frequented by holy men, have now become wholesome; and our cattle will now for ever freely graze on her river-banks. Verily, we are rustics that we did not recognize Krishna as a great being, like fire hidden in the fold.”
Thus wandering and lauding the imperishable Krishna, the multitude of cowherds returned to the cow-pen, like the gods to the heavenly garden of Chitraratha.
Source:
Indian Serpent-Lore, J. PH. Vogel, 1926
Kotharian Lightning 