When Shakra departed, the residents of Vraja, deeply moved, honored Krishna for his remarkable feat of holding up Govardhana. The aged and kin, filled with joy, welcomed him. "We are blessed, O Govinda! You have lifted the mountain and spared us from the storm. The cows are free from fear, and we have overcome this great peril. You shine like a god, O lord of the cows! We have witnessed your divine strength, undying form, and immense power. Who are you truly—are you a Rudra, a Marut, or a Vasu? Why did Vasudeva become your father? Through your childhood deeds and miraculous birth, you have confounded us."

"Your actions are beyond comprehension," they said, their voices filled with awe. "Why, O Krishna, do you, the world's guardian, choose to live as a humble gopa? Why do you protect cows when you are greater than any god or celestial being? Whether you are a god, a Danava, a yaksha, or a Gandharva, you have chosen to be born among us. You are our kin, and we bow before you. We are devoted to you and seek refuge in you."

Hearing their words, the lotus-eyed Krishna smiled, a glimmer of mystery in his eyes. "You see me as a being of great valour, but know this: I am your kin. If you seek the truth, wait for my true nature to reveal itself. If you take pride in seeing your relative as a divine being, you honour me already. There is no need to seek further understanding."

The gopas moved but silent, covered their faces and dispersed, humbled by his words.

Meanwhile, the gopa maidens bowed to him, overwhelmed by Krishna's divine presence. They had witnessed his extraordinary deeds and felt the weight of his truth. They gazed at him with longing, their hearts consumed with desire. Though restrained by their families, the young women secretly sought Krishna under the cover of night. They danced, sang, and imitated his every movement, each action filled with affection and yearning. With palm leaves in their hands, they playfully struck one another, their eyes never leaving him.

The women of Vraja, overcome with emotion, surrounded Krishna with joy and devotion. They sang sweet melodies, their voices rich with longing. With the fragrance of cow dung on their limbs, they encircled him, offering their affection like elephants to their mate. Their hearts, flooded with attachment, shone in their smiles, their gazes drinking in Krishna but never fully sated.

On the moonlit autumn night, Krishna, with eyes like black antelopes, reveled in the women's love and devotion. Like a precious ornament, his presence adorned the night as they became ornaments in his divine play. Even after the night's passing, they remained in bliss, forever intoxicated by his love.

The Slayer of Arishta

While Krishna was immersed in pleasure one morning, a terrifying sight befell Vraja—Arishta, a monstrous bull, appeared. Dark as burnt coal, with sharp horns and eyes like the sun, he resembled the personification of Death. His hooves were fierce, his body tainted with excrement, and his massive hump was unmatched in size. His tail raised, he licked his lips and gnashed his teeth in arrogance. He dashed through Vraja, instilling terror in the cows, causing miscarriages, and attacking sick and young cows with his sharp horns.

Arishta's terror spread, so he advanced toward Krishna to destroy all the bulls and calves. His roar shook the air like Indra's vajra, but Krishna, unshaken, responded with a lion's roar and clapped his hands to confuse the beast. The bull, enraged, charged at Krishna with wild fury, his gaze fixed and his horns ready for battle. But Krishna stood firm, unmovable like a mountain.

The two bulls collided, their struggle like two quivering clouds clashing. Krishna, with strength unmatched, seized Arishta, kicking him between the horns and crushing his throat with his grip. He uprooted Arishta's left horn, which resembled Yama's staff, and struck him with it. Arishta's body buckled, blood pouring from his mouth as he fell to the ground, defeated.

Krishna had slain the arrogant daitya as a bull, and his strength left the people of Vraja in awe. The gopas overjoyed and praised Krishna, worshipping him as the immortal gods who worship Shakra in heaven. With eyes like a lotus, Krishna glittered again in his divine radiance.

Kamsa's Growing Anxiety

When Kamsa heard of Krishna's feats—how the child had already defeated Putana, Kaliya, Dhenuka, and Pralamba—his fear grew uncontrollably. Krishna was rapidly maturing, and with each victory, Kamsa saw his doom approaching. The sight of Krishna's strength, his destruction of Arishta, and the lifting of Govardhana all pointed to a divine power that Kamsa could not ignore. He knew that his time was running out.

In the middle of the night, Kamsa gathered his trusted family members, including his father, Ugrasena, Vasudeva, and other prominent Yadavas like Satyaka, Daruka, Kritavarma, and Bhurishrava. He called upon their wisdom, knowledge of sacred texts, martial skills, and leadership, yet he could not mask his growing despair.

"All of you are capable warriors and wise scholars, yet none of you can deny the power of Krishna," Kamsa began, his voice heavy with fear. "The child from Vraja is no ordinary mortal. His actions are those of a god. What should we do?"

Kamsa continued, recounting the various miracles Krishna had performed. He spoke of Krishna's defeat of the mighty Putana, the serpent Kaliya, and the powerful demon Dhenuka. Kamsa was particularly disturbed by Krishna lifting the Govardhana mountain, something no human could ever do.

"He is not just a child," Kamsa said, trembling with dread. "He is a god in disguise. I have seen enough—his deeds leave no room for doubt. His power is too great."

Kamsa remembered the prophecy that had foretold his death at the hands of the eighth son of Devaki. Since that moment, he had been obsessed with killing Krishna. Narada had warned him that Krishna would be the end of his reign. It seemed that the gods were working against him.

Kamsa spoke bitterly of Vasudeva's betrayal, his mind reeling from the realization that Krishna's very existence was part of a divine plan to bring about his end.

"I have been ungrateful to Vasudeva," Kamsa admitted. "He has hidden his true intentions from me, and now his family is the cause of my downfall."

The Curse of Betrayal

Kamsa's thoughts darkened as he recalled his treatment of Vasudeva and the cruelty he had inflicted upon him. He had raised Vasudeva as a friend, but now it seemed the man he had trusted was plotting his demise.

"I thought I could control everything, but Krishna's birth was the turning point," Kamsa murmured, the weight of his miscalculations settling in. "His very existence is a curse upon me."

Determined to destroy Krishna once and for all, Kamsa devised a plan. He called for Akrura, a trusted Yadava, to go to Vraja. Kamsa planned to invite Krishna and Balarama to Mathura under the guise of a grand sacrificial offering, hoping to trap them in his city.

"Go to Vraja," Kamsa instructed Akrura. "Tell Nandagopa that I wish to see his sons. Bring them to Mathura—honour them with great sacrifice. But make sure they come, for I have plans they must fulfil."

Though Akrura was deeply aware of Kamsa's treacherous intentions, he could not resist the opportunity to meet Krishna and Balarama. He set off for Vraja with a heart full of anticipation and fear, knowing that Kamsa's message would likely lead to disaster.

Before Akrura's departure, Kamsa addressed the Yadavas, reminding them of Krishna's growing threat to his rule. He emphasized the importance of eliminating the two brothers before they could become a more significant threat.

"The time has come for action," Kamsa said. "I will deal with Krishna and Balarama. You must prepare for what is to come."

Akrura's journey to Vraja was filled with conflicting emotions. He had longed to see Krishna yet knew the danger he carried with him. As he travelled, the divine destiny of Krishna and Balarama was already set into motion, unbeknownst to Kamsa. The end of his reign was fast approaching, but Kamsa could not yet see it.

Back in Mathura, Kamsa began preparing for the confrontation he believed would secure his rule. Krishna and Balarama's arrival in Mathura was only a matter of time. Little did he know that the very moment he sought to end their lives would also be the moment of his destruction.

Kamsa's Wrath and Andhaka's Response

As Kamsa's words filled the air, mocking and condemning the Yadavas, the atmosphere around him grew tense. The bulls among the Yadus, wise and learned, instinctively covered their ears in disbelief. They knew Kamsa's anger and harsh words would only lead to his downfall. It was clear to them that his days were numbered.

However, amidst the brewing storm of Kamsa's fury, Andhaka, the most eloquent of the Yadavas, remained unfazed. A man of profound wisdom, he stepped forward and addressed Kamsa calmly and steadily.

"O son of Ugrasena," Andhaka began, his tone measured yet full of strength. "You tire yourself with words that should not be praised. Such speech is inappropriate, especially when directed at your kin. These words you have spoken are unworthy of you, and worse, they are spoken against your relatives."

The other Yadavas listened closely, knowing that Andhaka was not one to speak without purpose. He continued, his words laced with the wisdom of the ages.

"A person not a Yadava should never be exposed to such words. But you—unlike us—seem to have forgotten the respect due to your lineage. You speak as above reproach, yet no Yadava would condone your conduct. In the great Ikshvaku lineage, kings have disinherited their sons for lesser offences. You may call yourself a Bhoja, a Yadava, or even Kamsa himself—but you must remember that your head belongs to you alone. What is the use of your high station if your actions betray your very lineage?"

Andhaka's eyes narrowed, and he pressed on, his voice growing stronger. "Why should we grieve over Ugrasena, the man who birthed such an evil-minded son like you? The learned do not boast of their qualities. True virtue is recognized by others, not by self-praise. You, Kamsa, are destroying the Yadu lineage with your foolishness. A king who kills his children is condemned by the world, yet you have embraced such madness. You speak of righteousness, yet it is clear to all that your mind is consumed by hatred."

At this point, Andhaka's voice softened, but the weight of his words grew. "O son, you have criticized Vasudeva for hiding his son. But let me remind you—if a father is cruel, it is not the son's duty to repay cruelty. A father endures many hardships for his son. If Vasudeva concealed his infant son, it was because he had to for the survival of the family. Ask your own father, Ugrasena, about this. He, too, knows the pain of a son's actions, and yet he would not have punished Vasudeva for such a decision."

The tension in the air grew thicker as Andhaka's words began to take hold of the other Yadavas.

"By condemning Vasudeva and criticizing the Yadava lineage, you have poisoned the hearts of our people. You have sown discord where there should be unity. Do you not see the consequences of your actions? If Vasudeva's act had been wrong, why did Ugrasena not punish you when you were an infant? A son protects his father's soul, saving him from the hell known as 'put.' That is the true meaning of being a son."

Andhaka's voice was now filled with a sense of inevitable truth. "Krishna and Balarama, the sons of Vasudeva, have been born into the Yadava lineage. Yet you have hated them from birth. Enmity has taken root in your heart. By cursing Vasudeva, you have angered Krishna and ensured that misfortune will follow you. Your actions have ignited the wrath of the forces you sought to control."

He paused, his gaze steady on Kamsa as he finished his speech. "Have you not seen the omens? The night is filled with terrible portents—serpents slithering through the sky, birds falling, meteors raining down, the sun dimming, and the earth-shaking. These are signs of the doom that awaits you, O Kamsa. You have turned away from royal dharma. You are no longer fit to rule. Your words and deeds will be your undoing."

The atmosphere was heavy with the weight of Andhaka's words, and even Kamsa, though filled with rage, felt a flicker of doubt. But his pride and anger were too great to admit any wrongdoing.

His eyes were bloodshot with anger; Kamsa turned away from Andhaka without responding. He stormed back to his residence, his mind a whirlwind of fury. The Yadavas, though filled with resentment for Kamsa's harsh words, knew they could do little at this moment. Their voices had fallen on deaf ears.

Andhaka, his patience tested, finally turned to the others. "From now on," he said, his voice firm, "we will no longer extend our affection to Kamsa. His actions are a curse upon our lineage, and we will not serve him any longer. The lineage of the Yadus is doomed under his rule, but Krishna will unite us. He will bring our kin together and restore the honour of the Yadavas."

As Andhaka spoke, a sense of finality settled over the assembly. The Yadavas knew that the time had come. Kamsa's reign was on borrowed time, and the forces of destiny were already at work. The Yadavas departed, each man absorbed in his thoughts, knowing that the end of Kamsa's tyranny was drawing near.

The Demon's Fury

As the sun rose on the tranquil lands of Vrindavana, a momentous event began to unfold. Akrura, the noble and loyal Yadava, was eager to meet Krishna, the divine incarnation and the beloved of the gopas. With the blessings of Ugrasena, Akrura outlined in his majestic chariot, which could travel at the speed of thought, heading toward the land where Krishna resided. The auspicious omens signalled that an important figure, equal to Krishna's father, was about to arrive.

Meanwhile, Kamsa, the tyrant king of Mathura, had sent a messenger to the demon Keshi, disguised as a fearsome horse, to wreak havoc in Vrindavana. Keshi, a day in the form of a horse, had terrorized the land, devouring the cows and cowherds and causing widespread fear. His mane was wild, and his hooves trampled upon the earth, causing destruction wherever he went.

On seeing Keshi's rampage, the gopas—fearful of his power—ran to Krishna, the protector of the world. Worried for Krishna's safety, the gopas implored him not to face the demon, as Keshi was no ordinary creature; he was a being of immense strength and wickedness allied with Kamsa. Yet Krishna, resolute in his mission, was undeterred by their warnings.

Keshi, with a terrifying neigh, charged towards Krishna. His eyes were bloodshot with rage, and his body radiated malevolence as he rushed toward the divine child. But Krishna, unaffected by the horse's fury, stood his ground. With a swift and graceful movement, Krishna advanced toward Keshi. The two engaged in a fierce battle, with Keshi using his powerful hooves and sharp teeth against Krishna. His rage and strength seemed almost overwhelming, but Krishna, who was beyond the reach of mere mortals, responded with equal force.

In the heat of battle, Keshi's hooves struck Krishna's chest, and his teeth bit into Krishna's arm, marking the god with a wound. The battle raged on, with Keshi's attacks intensifying. But Krishna, ever vigilant, seized the opportunity to strike. With a forceful blow, Krishna struck Keshi in the mouth, and the evil horse's teeth were shattered. His once-terrifying form began to falter as blood poured from his broken body.

The demon's strength was no match for Krishna's divine might. The horse's body was torn apart, and Keshi's life came to an end. Krishna stood victorious, smiling, as the gopas and gopa women rejoiced in the destruction of their tormentor.

The gopas, filled with admiration and gratitude, praised Krishna for his valour. "O Krishna," they said, "You have slain the wicked horse, Keshi, and brought peace to Vrindavana. The world was in peril, but you have protected us from this evil demon."

As the gopas celebrated Krishna's triumph, the great sage Narada, travelling through the heavens, witnessed the victory. He descended to earth, invisible to all but Krishna, and offered his praise. "O Krishna," he said, "You have accomplished what no one else could. You have defeated Keshi, the demon that even Indra, the king of the gods, feared. Your strength is unparalleled, and you have earned the name Keshava—the slayer of Keshi. Your fame will spread worldwide, and your deeds will be remembered for eternity."

Narada, pleased with Krishna's victory, also gave a prophecy. "The time for the great battle of the Bharata war is approaching. Soon, kings will rise against each other, and you will play a pivotal role in the coming conflict. After Kamsa has been subdued, there will be a battle where the kings will choose sides, and your strength will determine the course of history. Devi Niyati and Mahadev are here to support you. O Krishna, I have witnessed your deeds and will return to witness more."

Narada ascended to the heavens, leaving Krishna to continue his earthly mission. The gopas, filled with joy and admiration, returned to their homes, their hearts brimming with gratitude for Krishna's divine protection.

The Vision of the Divine

It was a serene evening. The sun's rays had mellowed as it began to set, casting the sky in red and pale blue hues. The birds had returned to their nests, and the people of Vraja were offering their oblations into the fire, marking the transition from day to night. The atmosphere was peaceful, with the cows returning to their pens, and the air was filled with the sounds of nature's quieting as night approached.

Amid this quiet, Akrura, a revered and strong Yadava noble, was travelling on his chariot at the speed of thought. His destination was the home of Nandagopa, the father of Krishna, where he would meet the divine child. Akrura had long heard of Krishna's extraordinary qualities and was eager to see him in person. As he arrived in Vrindavana, he alighted from his chariot and asked for directions to the residence of Keshava, the son of Yashoda and Nandagopa.

Entering Nandagopa's house, Akrura saw Krishna amidst the calves, milking the cows. Krishna appeared like a bull among the calves, radiant and full of life. Akrura, overwhelmed with emotion, praised Krishna for his divine appearance. He saw a being beyond mere mortals, a manifestation of the eternal Vishnu.

Akrura recounted Krishna's divine form and qualities: "This is Pundarikaksha, the one who embodies strength and valour, like a lion or tiger. His complexion is like a dark cloud filled with water. His form resembles the best of mountains and is invincible in battle. His chest bears the Srivatsa mark, and his arms can slay any enemy. Though he appears as a simple cowherd, he is, in truth, the supreme Vishnu incarnate."

Akrura spoke with reverence, describing Krishna's divine attributes: "He wears a diadem, a blazing umbrella covers his head, and his ears are adorned with earrings. His broad chest is worthy of garlands, and his two powerful arms can wield the chakra and mace. This cowherd is the one who will revive the Yadava lineage, and through his strength, he will bring prosperity to the world, like the age of Krita Yuga."

Akrura continued, acknowledging Krishna's past deeds, including how he had once conquered the three worlds in just three strides, making Purandar the king of the gods. He expressed his belief that Krishna, though born as a human, was far superior and divine, as confirmed by those with celestial vision. He decided to worship Krishna mentally, for he recognized him as Keshava, the one revered by all the world.

As part of the ancient rites, Akrura revered Krishna and felt blessed to be in his presence, the one whom even the scriptures spoke of in awe. He then invited Krishna to consult with him, and if Krishna agreed, Akrura would accompany him on his mission.

Having said this, Akrura stood before Krishna, preparing for further discussion and awaiting the divine one's consent. With Krishna, Akrura entered the home of Nandagopa, where Krishna would share his wisdom, and Akrura would fulfil his role in the grand cosmic plan.

The Weight of Family Ties

As dusk turned to evening in the serene land of Vraja, Akrura, the infinitely generous emissary of Kamsa, entered the house of Nandagopa. He was accompanied by Krishna, the radiant son of Nanda, and his elder brother, Balarama, the son of Rohini. Akrura summoned the gopas' elders, addressed them respectfully, and shared his instructions.

Akrura, delighted at meeting Krishna and Balarama, spoke solemnly: "O Krishna, O son of Nanda, for the welfare of all, let us depart for the city of Mathura tomorrow. Kamsa has summoned all, and it is time to pay the yearly taxes. Along with the gopas, we will witness the grand bow sacrifice that Kamsa is organizing. This is an opportunity to meet your true parents, Vasudeva and Devaki, who have endured unimaginable suffering."

Akrura's voice filled with emotion as he spoke of Krishna's parents. "Your father, Vasudeva, has been oppressed for years by Kamsa's wickedness. The sorrow of losing his sons has aged him prematurely. Day and night, he lives in terror, consumed by anxiety for you. Your mother, Devaki, who bore you in her womb, has never known the joy of holding her child. She is like a divine goddess, yet her radiance has faded. She is like the cow Surabhi, bereft of her calf. Her grief overwhelms her, her eyes forever moist with tears, and she is draped in old garments. She longed for your arrival, dreaming of seeing your moon-like face and childhood laughter.

O Govinda, what more tremendous grief is there than a mother who gives birth to a child but is unable to cherish them? Devaki's torment is far worse than being childless, for she bore you yet suffers endlessly. If you reunite with your parents, you will bring them solace and fulfil the highest dharma.

Remember, Krishna, you have already accomplished incredible feats here in Vraja. You subdued the venomous serpent Kaliya in the Yamuna, lifted the mighty Govardhana mountain to protect your people, and vanquished powerful foes like Arishta and Keshi, who spread terror. Now, it is time to fulfil your duty to your true parents. Vasudeva and Devaki, who have endured such misery, deserve freedom from their suffering. Blinded by arrogance, Kamsa has caused them great pain, but you, their son, can deliver them from this torment."

As Akrura's words resonated with truth and urgency, Krishna listened calmly. Though the weight of his parents' suffering stirred him, he restrained his emotions and maintained his composure. Nandagopa and the assembled gopas, too, heard Akrura's appeal. Recognizing the necessity of the journey, they agreed to prepare for departure.

The residents of Vraja began planning for their journey to Mathura. The gopa elders, led by Nandagopa, ensured that all necessary tributes were prepared for Kamsa. Bulls, ghee, buffaloes, milk, curds, and other offerings were collected to pay the yearly taxes. The gopas worked tirelessly through the night, readying their carts and provisions for the journey.

While the preparations were underway, Akrura stayed awake, conversing deeply with Krishna. Balarama, always by his brother's side, joined them. The three-spoke into the night, discussing destiny, duty, and the future. As the moonlight bathed Vraja, the gopas completed their tasks, and the night passed in quiet anticipation.