When the king of serpents had been subdued in the Yamuna, Balarama and Keshava wandered the lands surrounding the river. One day, accompanied by the cows they so dearly cherished, the two sons of Vasudeva arrived at the majestic Mount Govardhana. To the north of Govardhana, they discovered a magnificent palm forest on the banks of the Yamuna.

The forest was alive with beauty, its dense canopy of palm leaves casting patterns of shade and light. The plain beneath was soft and inviting, free of jagged rocks, covered instead with lush darbha grass and dark, fertile earth. The palm trees rose high with strong, sturdy trunks, their glossy fruit hanging like ornaments glinting in the sunlight. The sight filled them with delight as they roamed, youthful and exuberant, like two strong young bulls exploring their domain.

Gazing at the ripe fruit crowning the palm trees, Damodara, ever eloquent, remarked with wonder, "What a marvelous place! Look at these ripe palm fruits, O noble one! They are fragrant, dark, juicy, and glistening. Their sweet scent fills the air, and I can only imagine the nectar-like taste of their juice. We can bring down these fruits and enjoy this amrita-like treasure with some effort."

Hearing this, Balarama laughed heartily, his voice ringing through the forest. Resolute, they began shaking the trees to dislodge the luscious fruit.

Unbeknownst to them, the forest of palms was no ordinary place. Hidden from human eyes and feared by men and beasts alike, it was home to the fearsome daitya Dhenuka, cursed to live as a monstrous ass. Surrounded by a herd of equally menacing asses, Dhenuka guarded the forest with a ferocity that terrified all living creatures.

When the palm trees shaking and the fruits falling reached Dhenuka's ears, it was as if a thunderstorm had raged within him. The ground trembled beneath his hooves as he charged toward the disturbance, his eyes wild with fury. His tail lashed the air like a whip, his neighing resonating with rage. With his gaping maw, he descended upon the intruders, his presence a harbinger of death itself.

Spotting Balarama standing tall amidst the palm trees, the enraged Dhenuka attacked. Using his sharp teeth, he bit into him, then turned to strike with his powerful hind legs, aiming directly at his chest. But Balarama, unarmed but undeterred, caught hold of the day's hind legs swiftly and resolutely.

With unmatched strength, he whirled the massive ass through the air, smashing its body against the palm trees. The impact shattered Dhenuka's spine and crushed its form. The daitya fell lifeless to the ground, surrounded by the fruits it had once guarded so jealously.

As if releasing pent-up fury, Balarama turned to the daitya's herd and flung them into the trees. The forest echoed with the thuds of their broken bodies, falling alongside the fruits they had sought to protect. The once-fearsome grove now lay tranquil, its darkness lifted like clouds dispersing from a clear autumn sky.

With the daityas vanquished, the palm forest regained its splendor, radiating peace and beauty. The gopas rejoiced, fearlessly venturing into the grove that had once been forbidden. The cows grazed contentedly on the lush grass, their bells jingling in harmony with the rustling leaves.

Balarama and Keshava sat back as the cattle roamed freely, their valour like mighty elephants. They reclined comfortably on seats made of palm leaves, watching over the forest that now brimmed with life and joy, a testament to their strength and righteousness.

The Mighty Fall of Pralamba

The two sons of Vasudeva, Krishna and Baladeva (Balarama), reveled in the splendor of nature. They wandered the forest of Bhandira, singing and playing among the cattle adorned with wildflower garlands. Their youthful vigour radiated like twin clouds, one golden, the other dark, dressed alike and marked by auspicious symbols. They embodied divine strength in the form of men, their laughter echoing through the trees, their energy unmatched.

They engaged in playful contests among the trees near the great nyagrodha, testing each other's strength. But their joy was interrupted by the arrival of Pralamba, a supreme asura in disguise, seeking to find a weakness. Cloaked as a cowherd, he blended into their midst, watching Krishna and Baladeva closely, intending to strike when the opportunity arose.

The game of harinakridana began, and the pairs of cowherds competed. Krishna, with Shridama, and Baladeva, with Pralamba, swiftly bested their opponents. But Pralamba, in his dark designs, lifted Baladeva on his shoulders, his proper form now manifesting—a colossal being, towering like a mountain, crowned with a fiery diadem. His presence darkened the sky, his eyes like wagon wheels, his steps shaking the earth beneath.

As Pralamba carried Baladeva away, the young one sensed the danger. Perched on the asura's shoulders, he spoke to Krishna, his voice calm but filled with resolve: "This day, like a mountain burning in the sky, has seized me. His size and power are overwhelming, but what should I do? How do I challenge this evil in his moment of arrogance?"

Ever the protector, Krishna smiled and reassured Baladeva: "You have forgotten your true nature, my brother. Remember who you are—one who pervades the cosmos. You are the eternal force that shapes and sustains this universe. Recall your true form, the one that holds up the world. You are the essence of all that exists, the soul of creation."

Krishna's words were a reminder of the immense power within Baladeva. He embraced his divine nature—the form of the primordial god. "Strike the daitya down, my brother. With your strength, let his fate be sealed. Use your fists, like the strike of the vajra, and crush him where he stands."

And so, Baladeva's strength surged, his proper divine form revealed. With a single blow, his fist, as mighty as the thunderbolt, struck Pralamba's head. The day's skull shattered, and his body crumbled and scattered like clouds torn apart by a storm. Blood poured from his broken body, staining the earth.

The heavens rejoiced at the victory, and the gods blessed Baladeva with strength and valour. Krishna, with pride, embraced his brother, knowing that the world had witnessed a great triumph. The gods declared: "The daitya, once unconquerable, has fallen to the might of this child. He shall be known as Baladeva, the one whose strength is unmatched, even by the gods themselves."

Thus, Baladeva earned his name. He is forever remembered as the slayer of Pralamba, a hero whose power surpassed all, even the might of the immortals.

A Divine Offering to the Mountain

As the monsoon season faded, Krishna and Baladeva returned to Vraja, their hearts alight with the joy of their playful wanderings. But soon, a buzz of excitement reached their ears—news that the gopas wished to celebrate Shakra's festival. Intrigued, Krishna turned to one of the elderly cowherds and asked, "What is this festival of Shakra (Lord Indra) that everyone speaks of? Why is it so dear to your hearts?"

The wise gopa, his face lined with age and experience, explained with reverence, "O Krishna, son of Yashoda! This festival is held in honour of Shakra, the lord of the heavens and the thunderous king of the gods. Shakra controls the clouds, governs the rain, and brings forth the harvest. He is Purandar, the one who ensures the world's prosperity through the blessings of water. When he is pleased, crops flourish, the earth blooms, and all beings—men and animals alike—are nourished by his grace. The cows yield abundant milk, the grass grows strong, and hunger is banished from the land."

Always thoughtful and perceptive, Krishna responded, his voice calm yet filled with the wisdom of one who understood the deeper forces at play. "I see O wise one. Shakra governs the rains, nourishes the earth, and sustains life. But what is it that the gopas of Vraja, like us, seek in honouring him? What is it that we can offer to him?"

The gopa's eyes sparkled with earnest devotion as he spoke, "O Krishna, we, the gopas, have our own way of honouring the divine forces that shape our lives. For us, the cows are the embodiment of the divine. Cattle, forests, and mountains are our gods. The life of the gopa is intertwined with the cattle—our sustenance, our livelihood, and our worship are bound to them. Agriculture, trade, and cattle are how we survive and prosper."

He paused momentarily, gathering his thoughts, then continued, his voice filled with a quiet reverence, "But it is not only the gods in the heavens that must be worshipped. The mountains, too, must be honored. In the forests, mountains can take whatever form they wish. They are guardians and protectors of the land. They shelter, provide for us, and protect the forests from those who harm them."

Krishna nodded, his understanding deepening, "You suggest, then, that we honour the mountain as a deity, as we honour the cows?"

The gopa's face lit up with affirmation. "Indeed, Krishna! Let us perform the Giriyajna, the sacrifice to the mountain, in the forest. At the foothill or under a sacred tree, we shall measure the ground, decorate the cows with autumn flowers, and offer our worship. The autumn season is upon us; the clouds have departed, and the earth is lush with fresh grass. This is the time to express our gratitude to the mountain, the forest, and the cows, who sustain us with their bounty."

Krishna, ever the guide of righteousness, smiled gently. "I agree, O wise gopa. Let us perform this sacrifice in reverence of the mountains and the cows. The world thrives on balance—cattle, nature, the earth, and the heavens. We must honour the divine in our own way, and this rite shall symbolize our gratitude."

The gopa continued, his voice filled with devotion, "The forest is beautiful this season—its grass is thick, the rivers are calm, and the earth is abundant. The peacocks, once restless, are now at peace, and the trees have shed their old leaves, standing content in the cool air. The beauty of this autumn, with its blossoming flowers and ripening crops, calls us to worship with joy."

Krishna looked around at the beauty of the forest, the air fresh and clear after the rains. The cows grazed contentedly, their milk rich with the land's bounty. "We shall offer our sacrifice, then, and ensure that the earth remains prosperous," Krishna said with finality.

With the gopas' approval, they prepared the sacred sacrifice to celebrate nature's divine cycle. The cows were adorned with peacock feathers, their necks jingling with bells, their horns decked with autumn flowers. The worship of the mountain and the cows began, the air thick with the scent of incense and the sound of devotional hymns. The sacrifice, an offering of respect to nature's eternal cycles, was a testament to the gopas' deep connection to the earth, the animals, and the divine forces that sustained them all.

So, Krishna and the gopas honored Shakra in their own way, acknowledging the blessings of the skies, the earth, and the cows that were their livelihood.

The Gopas' Devotion and Krishna's Divine Manifestation

As Krishna's words, rich with wisdom and purpose, reached the cowherds' ears, they were overcome with joy. The sincerity and clarity in his voice were like nectar to their hearts. The gopas, who lived by the cows, responded with deep reverence, their voices filled with admiration and awe.

"O child!" one of them exclaimed, "Your words resonate like the sweetest nectar. The wisdom you speak fills our hearts with delight. You are the refuge of the gopas. You are the one who ensures our prosperity and peace. Your presence has transformed Vraja into a haven of peace and joy. Since birth, you have performed feats beyond the gods' abilities. Your strength, excellence, fame, and valour are unparalleled. You shine brighter than the moon in beauty, grace, and charm. No one equals you in form, wisdom, and strength. O Krishna, the Giriyajna you have spoken of will be the path to our prosperity. There is no greater sacrifice than the one you have proposed. We shall begin our sacrifice to the mountain at once."

The gopas, filled with excitement and reverence, immediately set to work. The preparations for the sacrifice began in earnest. "Let us bring forth the finest food," one of the gopas suggested.

"Vessels for milk, sweetmeats, and payasam must be prepared. Let there be offerings of meat and abundant milk from our cows. Let the vats overflow with curds and ghee. Let every gopa contribute to this sacred sacrifice."

As the festivities unfolded, a sense of unparalleled joy filled the air. The trumpets blared, and the bulls bellowed with excitement. The calves mooed, adding to the jubilation. Rivers of milk flowed through the land, and the gopas prepared mountains of rice and meat. The sacrifice began, and the hill was surrounded by herds of cattle and joyful people. The sacrifice to the mountain was performed with utmost devotion, guided by the Brahmanas.

As the sacred rites reached their peak, Krishna, using his divine maya, manifested in the form of the mountain itself. He consumed the offerings—rice, milk, curds, and meat—all while the Brahmanas and gopas looked on in awe. Satisfied, Krishna, assuming his proper divine form, laughed and declared, "I am content."

The gopas were struck with wonder when they saw Krishna atop the mountain's summit in his celestial form. He was adorned with divine garlands and smeared with celestial unguents, his form radiating a heavenly glow. The sight was so magnificent that the gopas, trembling with awe, fell to the ground in reverence. "O illustrious one!" they exclaimed. We are your humble servants. What task shall we perform?"

From the mountain, Krishna's voice resonated like thunder, commanding yet soothing. "From this day forward, if you are compassionate and devoted to me, you must worship me in the form of cows. I am your foremost deity. Through my grace, you shall possess countless cows and experience great prosperity. I shall be present with you always, just as I reside in heaven. You, O gopas, have pleased me, and I will grant you blessings. Your cows will yield many calves, and there will be no scarcity. Know that I am supremely delighted by your devotion."

The gopas, filled with immense joy, began a grand circumambulation of the mountain. The cows, adorned with garlands and anklets, walked in procession, their milk flowing freely. The cowherds, dressed in vibrant attire and crowned with peacock feathers, danced and sang in celebration. Some rode on bulls, and others ran joyfully after the herds. The whole of Vraja was filled with light and laughter, and the gopas felt as if they were in the gods' presence.

As the ritual concluded, the mountain's form vanished as suddenly as it had appeared, and Krishna, once more in his human form, returned to Vraja with the gopas. Their hearts swelled with gratitude and wonder at the divine manifestation they had witnessed.

Wrath of Lord Indra

When Shakra, the lord of the gods, saw his sacrifice disrupted, fury engulfed him. He commanded the Samvartaka clouds to unleash a torrential storm. "O clouds! O mighty elephants!" he thundered. "If you wish to please me, focus your devotion on your king. The gopas, led by Nandagopa, have shown disrespect towards my sacrifice. Their livelihood depends on cows, and they have dishonored my sacred rites. Now, use wind and rain to oppress the cows for seven days. I will ride Airavata, bringing a rainstorm that will destroy Vraja, ending the lives of the gopas and their cattle."

The clouds obeyed, darkening the sky with an ominous presence. They rumbled like mountains, flashing with lightning and filling the heavens with terror. As the rain began to pour, it was as if the ocean had spilt into the sky. The earth trembled, and all living beings began to panic. Birds ceased to fly, and animals fled in every direction. The rivers swelled and overflowed, and the earth became a vast ocean. The gopas cried in despair, "The end of the world has come! Vraja is lost."

The cows, drenched and frozen in fear, could not move. Their bodies shivered, and many, exhausted by the unrelenting storm, gave up their lives. Calves cried out to Krishna, their faces pleading for salvation. Seeing the suffering of the cows, Krishna's heart burned with anger.

In his wrath, Krishna spoke to himself, his voice filled with determination, "I will save Vraja and the cows. The storm is too fierce to bear, but I will create a refuge for them." With that, he turned his gaze upon the mighty mountain. Using his divine strength, Krishna uprooted the hill and lifted it quickly. The mountain, heavy with trees and rocks, trembled as it was raised into the sky. Like a protective umbrella, Krishna held it aloft with his left hand's little finger, shielding Vraja from the relentless downpour.

The heavens watched in awe as Krishna stood firm, his hand like a pillar, holding the mountain steady. The rain ceased to fall upon the mountain's summit, and the storm could not penetrate the divine shelter Krishna had created. The gopas, seeing this miraculous act, were filled with wonder. "This is beyond the power of the gods!" they marveled.

Krishna called to the gopas, "Bring the cows here. They will find refuge under this mountain, free from the storm. Vraja shall be protected, and no harm shall come to our herds." The gopas, overjoyed, hurried to gather the cattle. The cows, finding peace under the mountain's shelter, no longer trembled in fear.

Krishna, standing as a pillar beneath the mountain, smiled. "I have created a house for the cattle. Let the herds reside here safely, and let no harm come to Vraja," he proclaimed. "I have repelled the rain. This place is now safe. There is no need to fear."

The storm raged outside for seven nights, but the gopas and cows remained untouched inside Krishna's shelter. After seven days had passed, Shakra, seeing that his efforts had failed, ceased the rain and returned to his celestial abode. The clouds dispersed, and the sky cleared. The sun blazed again, and the cows returned to their grazing grounds, freed from torment.

Vraja, once again peaceful and serene, resumed its natural state. Having completed his divine feat, Krishna restored the mountain to its rightful place, and the gopas rejoiced. "The lord who grants boons has protected us," they said, their hearts filled with gratitude.

Thus, Krishna demonstrated his supreme power, shielding Vraja from the wrath of the gods and proving that no force could rival his protection.

Shakra's Reverence and Krishna's Consecration

After Govardhana was raised, saving Gokula from the storm's wrath, Shakra, the king of the gods, was left astounded. Humbled and curious, he mounted Airavata, the mighty elephant drenched in musth, and descended to the earth. His journey, born of shame and reverence, brought him near the hill, where he found Krishna seated serenely on a rock, glowing with a divine yet approachable aura.

The child before him was no ordinary mortal. Krishna's dark skin shimmered like polished palm bark, marked with the sacred Srivatsa symbol. His energy radiated purity and power, untouched by decay, as though he held the cosmos within his grasp. Shakra, the thousand-eyed lord, gazed upon him, his celestial heart stirring with awe and regret.

Dismounting from Airavata, Shakra approached with reverence, his vajra in hand, garlands draped across his shoulders, and his crown gleaming like lightning. His voice, rich with divine emotion, broke the silence: "O Krishna, mighty-armed and ever-compassionate! You have accomplished a feat that none among gods or mortals could achieve. You raised this great mountain like a child's toy to protect the cows. My pride unleashed clouds as fierce as the storms of pralaya, yet your calm strength rendered them powerless. Who would not be astounded by your boundless might?

"I was angered when my sacrifice was halted, yet for seven nights, you countered the fury of my rains and saved the cattle. The rain that falls is my domain, a force even gods and danavas fear to oppose. Yet you, O Govinda, remain immovable, sheltering those who depend on you. Such resolve and compassion can only belong to one who is both human and divine. O Krishna, though you conceal the infinite power of Vaishnava energy within this mortal form, I see you for who you indeed are—the eternal protector of dharma, the upholder of the universe.

Today, I bow to you. You are the axis upon which the worlds revolve, the source of strength we all seek in our moments of vulnerability. The cows, the earth, and even we gods depend on you. You are not just a guardian but a beacon, illuminating the path of righteousness. In their gratitude, the cows and Brahma himself have decreed you as their Indra, their eternal king. O Krishna, I bring this golden pot of celestial milk to consecrate you as Govinda, the protector of cows and dharma. From this day forward, you will reign supreme in their hearts, and in the heavens, you will be hailed as Upendra." Shakra paused, his voice trembling with sincerity, his eyes glistening with regret and admiration.

Then he continued, his tone softening as he revealed the true purpose of his descent: "O Krishna, hear me. A son has been born through your father's sister—a part of my essence brought to earth to serve dharma. His name is Arjuna, and he will be the most excellent archer of the Bharata lineage. Protect him as you would protect your self. Guide him, for he is destined to walk the path of righteousness at your side. Together, you will accomplish what no one else can—lifting the burden of unrighteous kings from this world. Arjuna will wield unmatched skill, and his valour will shine second only to yours. He will be your companion, ally, and reflection on the battlefield.

Krishna, your bond with him is preordained. Arjuna will be bound to you on earth as I am bound to you in the heavens. Protect him, guide him, and honour him. Let the world witness the union of your might and his courage as the forces of adharma crumble before you. I entrust Arjuna to your care for the sake of truth and the gods."

Krishna's serene countenance and voice imbued with affection and authority replied: "O Shakra! O husband of Shachi! Every word you have spoken is laden with wisdom and sincerity, and there is nothing in your sentiments to be slighted. I fully understand your concerns and desires. I know of Arjuna's destined birth, foretold by the heavens.

I am aware that my father's sister has been given in marriage to Brahmarshi Pandu. I know of Vasusena, born of Surya's radiance, and Yudhishthira, the embodiment of dharma, born of Yama's blessing. I know of the mighty Bhima, whose strength rivals the wind itself, born through the essence of Vayu. The radiant Ashvins have granted Madri two virtuous sons, Nakula and Sahadeva, who shine as paragons of righteousness.

I know the hundred sons of Dritarashtra, whose hearts burn with the desire for conflict. I know of Pandu's tragic end, brought about by the curse that struck him as if by your vajra. O Shakra! Rest assured, there is nothing unknown to me in these matters. Therefore, return to heaven with your mind at ease for the joy and peace of the celestial realms.

As long as I stand beside Arjuna, not one of his enemies will have the courage or strength to display their prowess before him. For Arjuna's sake, all the Pandavas will remain unharmed, protected from the chaos of battle. When the great war of the Bharatas has concluded, I will return them safely to their mother, Kunti.

O Shakra! As a servant bound by devotion, I will fulfil every wish of your son, Arjuna. I will do whatever he asks of me without hesitation, for I am tied to you by affection and bound by the eternal bonds of dharma."

Shakra listened, his heart swelling with relief and reverence. With solemnity, he consecrated Krishna with the pot of celestial milk. As the divine liquid touched Krishna, the world itself seemed to celebrate. The skies rained amrita and flowers, the earth exuded fragrance, and the winds carried the music of celestial trumpets.

The cows, their gratitude boundless, sprinkled Krishna with milk from their breasts. The mountains gleamed with newfound radiance, animals rejoiced, and the cosmos resonated harmoniously. Clad in celestial garments, Krishna stood consecrated as Govinda, the eternal protector of the cows and the harbinger of dharma.

Satisfied, Shakra ascended to the heavens, his heart lightened by Krishna's words and his soul comforted by the knowledge that Govinda had secured the fate of the worlds.