Kṛshṇa Līlā Vihāra

The tenth skanda of the Bhāgavata Mahā Purāṇa ends with a picture of Bhagavān Kṛshṇa’s life in Dvārakā, his city by the western sea. This is his līlā (divine play) in the fullness of its glory. The chapter shows his many homes, the joy of his queens, and the great family of the Yādavas.

Kṛshṇa in Dvārakā

Bhagavān Kṛshṇa lived in the great city of Dvārakā. It was full of all riches and served by the best of the Yādava chiefs. The young women of the city wore their finest clothes. They played and sang on the high towers of the palaces, bright as lightning in the sky.

The wide roads were crowded with great elephants dripping mada (the fluid of an elephant in rut), with well-dressed soldiers, with horses in bright ornaments and with golden chariots. The gardens and groves were thick with flowering trees, full of bees and birds.

Kṛshṇa was the one beloved husband of sixteen thousand queens. Each queen had her own palace, and each palace was a world in itself. He moved among them in all his wonderful forms and filled every home with his presence. The lakes of those palaces were sweet with open lotuses and red water-lilies. Their pollen turned the surface of the water to gold.

Water play and the queens’ joy

The greatest pleasure of those days was jala-krīḍā (play in the water). Kṛshṇa went into the great garden pools and rivers with his queens. The play was innocent and full of deep love.

The queens wore their finest clothes and ornaments. They sprayed Kṛshṇa from all sides with large pichkārīs (water syringes) until he was soaked. He sprayed them back with the same joy and drenched their silk clothes. Large bunches of flowers fell from their loosened hair. The game was to snatch the pichkārī from the other’s hand. To come close enough to snatch it meant an embrace.

As the queens pressed close to him, his garland was stained with kumkuma (red powder) from their wet bodies. He moved among them like the leader of the elephants among his playful she-elephants. Gandharvas, court musicians and poets sang his glory while the play went on.

Afterward Kṛshṇa and his queens gave the wet clothes and ornaments, now full of the memory of the play, to the performers and dancers who had watched and praised the day.

The queens’ words

The hearts of Kṛshṇa’s queens were wholly lost in him. At times they fell into bhāva-samādhi (a trance of love), a divine intoxication in which the line between the inner and the outer world was gone. In that state they spoke to nature as if it could answer. They saw in it their own feelings.

One queen spoke to a cakora bird crying in the night.

“O dear one, why do you cry in the night and not sleep? Is your heart, like ours, wounded by the sidelong glance of Kṛshṇa’s lotus eyes?”

To the cakravākī bird, weeping at being parted from her mate, a queen said:

“You too are sleepless in the dark. Or perhaps you also wish to place on your head the garland that has rested at the feet of Kṛshṇa?”

To the restless ocean:

“You too cry out without rest or end. Has Kṛshṇa taken something from you, your Kaustubha, your emblems? Is that why you are so troubled?”

To the thin moon:

“You grow pale and thin, O moon. Is your light dying, as our longing grows dark when he seems far from us?”

To the gentle malaya breeze:

“Why do you fan the fire of kāma (desire) in hearts already wounded by the glance of Govinda? What have we done to you?”

To the great rain cloud:

“You are dear to Kṛshṇa. We see it in how you are like him: dark, giving, full of plenty, remembered by all. You weep as we do when his name is spoken, and your tears fall as rain.”

To the singing kokila (cuckoo):

“Your voice can bring the dead back to life. Speak. Tell us what you need and we will do it.”

To the silent mountain:

“You stand unmoved, lost in dhyāna (meditation). Are you also longing, with your peaks, to hold his feet as we hold them in our hearts?”

To the dry summer rivers:

“You too, like us, have grown thin for the lack of what you love, the presence of Kṛshṇa. We know our own state in yours.”

To a swan that came near:

“Welcome. Drink milk and rest. Tell us news of the great Kṛshṇa. Is he well? Does he remember what he promised us? We know you are his messenger. Call him here, but leave Lakshmī behind, for her love for him is no stronger than ours.”

The Yādava household

Kṛshṇa’s family was beyond counting. He had 16,008 wives in all. Eight were the chief queens: Rukmiṇī, Satyabhāmā, Jāmbavatī, Kālindī, Mitravindā, Satyā Nāgnajitī, Bhadrā and Lakshmaṇā. The other 16,000 were the women set free from Narakāsura. From each wife Bhagavān Kṛshṇa’s unfailing saṅkalpa (will) brought forth ten sons. So the sons of Kṛshṇa numbered 160,080.

Among all these sons, eighteen became mahārathas (great chariot warriors) famous across the world. The most famous was Pradyumna, the eldest son of Rukmiṇī, who matched his father in every quality. He married the daughter of Rukmi, Rukmiṇī’s brother. Their son was Aniruddha, who had the strength of ten thousand elephants. Aniruddha married a granddaughter of Rukmi, and their son was Vajra. Vajra was the only one of the Yādava line to survive the destruction at Prabhāsa. His line went on through Pratibāhu, Subāhu, Śāntasena and Śatasena.

In the whole Yādava line, no one was born poor, no one was born without sons, no one had a short life, no one was born without courage, and no one was born without devotion to brāhmaṇas.

The Yādava host was beyond understanding. The ācāryas who taught the Yādava boys numbered three crore eighty-eight lakhs. The whole people under King Ugrasena was said to be ten lakh crores. Many of the most fearsome asuras, who had made the earth groan in the wars between devas and asuras, had been born again as humans. Kṛshṇa brought the best of the devas into the Yādava line to overcome them and in the end destroy them.

The Yādavas and Kṛshṇa

All the Yādavas lived wholly lost in Kṛshṇa. Lying down, sitting, walking, speaking, playing, bathing or eating, they were so full of the thought of Kṛshṇa that they forgot their own bodies. With him among them, the whole city of Dvārakā was always soaked in bhakti (devotion).

The kīrti (fame) of Kṛshṇa in the Yādava line was so great that even the Gaṅgā, which makes all the worlds pure with her water, seemed smaller beside it. Those who hated him and those who loved him both reached his own form (svarūpa). Others wore themselves out seeking the favour of Lakshmī, but Lakshmī herself was content to serve him alone. Even to say his name destroys all that is inauspicious.

The closing teaching

The Bhāgavata ends the tenth skanda with this declaration.

“Bhagavān Kṛshṇa is born in the usual sense only as the son of Devakī. He took this birth of his own free will. He is the birthless one. With his Yādava devotees as his arms, he overthrew adharma (what goes against dharma). His lotus face, lit by a soft smile, woke love in the hearts of the women of Vṛndāvana and Mathurā alike. He stands supreme in all the worlds.”

“Whoever listens to the holy kathā (telling) of this Kṛshṇa, whose deeds deserve endless praise, with love that grows and attachment that deepens in every moment, reaches that Supreme and goes beyond the speed of kāla (time). Great kings have given up their kingdoms and gone to the forest for this moksha alone. Let the devotee who wants release from the wheel of time drink this kathā again and again, with his ears as the cup.”

The chapter’s last verses say that whoever hears this holy līlā of Kṛshṇa is freed from the wheel of kāla and reaches amṛtatva (deathlessness).

Sources

• Bhāgavata Mahā Purāṇa, 10th Skanda, Chapter 90