I have left Vrindavan.
To back up a bit - a couple of weeks ago, one Akrura arrives from Mathura bearing a summons from the local king, Kamsa.
"His royal highness has been impressed by stories of your prowess and wishes to see a demonstration in the arena."
In case you've been living under a rock these past decades, Kamsa is a much despised tyrant who brooks no rivals.
After ascending the throne by imprisoning his father, sister and brother in law he's unleashed a reign of terror, apparently fueled by persistent paranoia
of being overthrown by a subject.
And it seems now that news of my "heroic achievements" has reached his ears, hence this thinly veiled invitation to assassination.
Thanks, people of Vrindavan, for your unquestioning adulation and wagging tongues - you might just have signed my death sentence.
And yet. And yet.
The germ of an idea - an opportunity of a lifetime if I can pull it off.
Chances of success, very low. But if I play my cards just right perhaps....
Anyway, best not speak of it too much - eyes and ears everywhere.
So, I have left Vrindavan with trusty Balaram and on my way to Mathura.
Much tears and heartbreak from my female following - "Do not leave us, dearest", "Please come back swiftly to us" and on and on.
I will never come back here.
Either because I am dead or, if my luck holds ... well, I'll soon find out if my luck holds.