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Skandha 10, adhyayas 26-27 · Saptah day 5
As the cowherds wonder who Nanda's child really is, Indra falls in secret at Krishna's feet and Surabhi bathes him as Govinda.
When seven-year-old Krishna set Govardhana Hill back into its rocky bed after holding it aloft on the tip of his left little finger for seven days and nights, the skies above Vrindavana were swept clear and the sun shone again over the pastures. Yet the elder cowherds of Vraja—simple men who lived by tending cattle and trading milk—could no longer look at the boy in the same way. In Chapter 26 of the Tenth Skandha (`10.26`), they gathered around Nanda Maharaja, the respected chief of the cowherd settlement and Krishna's foster father, their voices full of awe and quiet unease. Who could this child possibly be? Since the week of his birth in Gokula, they had watched him perform deeds no mortal man, let alone a child, could accomplish.
One by one, the elders counted the wonders they had witnessed with their own eyes (`10.26.2-13`). While still an infant at the breast, he had sucked the life-breath out of the giant child-killer Putana. Crying beneath a heavy wooden handcart, he had kicked it into splinters with his tiny heels. Carried into the upper sky by the whirlwind demon Trinavarta, he had gripped the demon's neck until the monster crashed lifeless onto the stones. He had uprooted the twin arjuna trees while tied by his waist to Yashoda's wooden mortar, swallowed the poison-flames of the forest fires, slain Bakasura and Vatsasura as if snapping twigs, danced on the hundred venomous hoods of the serpent Kaliya in the Yamuna, and now held up the king of mountains for a full week with one hand as lightly as a bull elephant holds a lotus flower (`10.26.3`). "O Nanda," the elders asked (`10.26.14`), "how can a boy born among cowherds possess such unfathomable power? And why does every woman, cow, and child in Vraja love him more fiercely than their own breath?"
Nanda Maharaja listened and smiled, remembering the midnight counsel he had received years earlier in a quiet cowshed. He told the elders (`10.26.15-24`) what the family priest Gargamuni—the ancient astronomer-sage of the Yadu clan sent in secret by Vasudeva from Mathura—had spoken when giving the child his name. Gargamuni had explained that this boy appeared in different ages with four complexions—white, red, yellow, and now dark blue (`10.26.16`)—and that he had once been born in the house of Vasudeva, which is why the wise call him Shriman Vasudeva. The sage had foretold that the boy possessed infinite names and qualities, that he would protect the cowherds of Gokula from every calamity, and that just as demons cannot conquer those who take shelter of Vishnu, no enemy would ever harm those who loved Nanda's son (`10.26.22`). Therefore, Nanda concluded, there was no reason for doubt: Gargamuni had told them from the beginning that Krishna was equal to Narayana himself in every virtue (`10.26.23`). Hearing Nanda's account of the sage's prophecy, the cowherds cast aside their perplexity and rejoiced, worshipping both Nanda and Krishna with contented hearts (`10.26.25`).
While the cowherds of Vraja returned happily to their homes, a very different reckoning was taking place in the heavens. Indra, the ruler of the celestials and lord of the thunderbolt, had watched his fiercest clouds—the Samvartaka storm-hosts normally unleashed only at the end of an age—empty their waters for seven days without wetting a single calf in Vrindavana. Stripped of his arrogance and ashamed that he had raged against a seven-year-old child who was none other than the Supreme Lord (`10.27.1`), Indra came down from heaven to a secluded glade on the slopes of Govardhana. With him came Surabhi, the celestial mother of all cows from Goloka.
Approaching Krishna in solitude where no villager could see his humiliation, the king of the gods—whose crown ordinarily shone like the midday sun and whose feet were brushed by the diadems of planetary rulers—fell flat on the ground and touched his helmeted head to Krishna's lotus feet (`10.27.2-3`). With folded hands and tears choking his throat, Indra spoke a confession of blindness (`10.27.4-13`). He acknowledged that Krishna's form is made of pure, untainted goodness (`visuddha-sattva`), untouched by the three modes of material nature: ignorance, passion, and mundane virtue. How could hunger, anger, or rivalry exist in one who lies beyond the flow of the gunas? Yet when the Lord assumes the role of father, teacher, and guardian of the worlds, he punishes those who grow drunk on their own station in order to restore them to sanity (`10.27.6-7`).
Indra admitted bluntly what had poisoned his mind (`10.27.8`): the triple intoxication of wealth, sovereign power, and high position (`aisvarya-mada`) had blinded him to Krishna's true nature. Thinking himself the supreme master of the universe (`10.27.12`), he had tried to drown Gokula because the cowherds had withheld a few offerings of grain and ghee. Now, having seen his storm-clouds dry up and his pride shattered against a boy's finger, he begged forgiveness so that his mind would never again sink into the darkness of ego (`10.27.11`). He bowed to Krishna as the inner soul of all beings and the true lord of the cowherd community (`10.27.13`).
Looking down at the humbled king of heaven, Krishna smiled and spoke with a voice as deep as rumbling clouds (`10.27.14-17`). He told Indra directly why he had interrupted the annual sacrifice (`10.27.15`): "It was strictly as an act of grace toward you that I stopped your festival, so that you, who had become utterly intoxicated by the wealth of the three worlds, would remember Me constantly." Then Krishna uttered one of the foundational principles of the Bhagavatam (`10.27.16`): whoever becomes blinded by the pride of wealth and power fails to see the Lord standing with the rod of time in his hand; therefore, when Krishna truly wishes to bless someone (`yasyanugraham icchami`), he brings that person down from the intoxication of prosperity. He commanded Indra to return to his heavenly throne, carry out his duties without pride, and stay ever mindful of the Supreme (`10.27.17`).
At that moment Mother Surabhi stepped forward with her calves, bowing before Krishna in deep affection (`10.27.18-21`). Speaking on behalf of all cattle and the earth itself, she declared that although Indra rules the heavens, Krishna alone is the true Indra—the protector of the cows, the brahmanas, the gods, and the saintly (`10.27.19`). Therefore, under the instruction of Brahma, she and the celestials would perform his royal consecration (`abhisheka`) right there on the mountain (`10.27.20`).
Surabhi bathed Krishna with streams of her own sweet, fragrant milk, while Indra's celestial white elephant Airavata drew sacred Ganga water from the heavenly Mandakini in his golden trunk and poured it over the boy's head (`10.27.22-23`). The sages, Siddhas, Gandharvas, and celestial maidens showered petals from the sky, sang hymns, and sounded kettle-drums as the three worlds overflowed with joy (`10.27.24`). Even dry land overflowed with milk from the udders of joyous cows, the rivers ran with nectar, and the trees dripped honey (`10.27.26`).
Consecrating the child who had sheltered the cows and the land, Indra and the assembled celestials proclaimed his new name across the universe (`10.27.23`, `10.27.25`): **Govinda**—the Lord of the cows (`go`), the protector of the earth (`go`), and the one found through the words of the Vedas (`go`). Taking his leave with Krishna's permission, a chastened and joyful Indra mounted Airavata and returned to Amaravati (`10.27.28`), leaving Govinda walking back down the green slopes of the mountain to herd his father's cattle.
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