Krishna's Diary: Entry 4

Krishna, King of Mathura - I like the sound of that.

As well I should, since that's what I am now. Really.

In retrospect, it turned out much easier than expected.

A "mad" elephant which was, in fact, so drunk on mahua that it collapsed halfway through an attempt to chase us around the arena.

Two wrestlers - overweight and out of form - beaten with little difficulty.

And so on and on with the crowd roaring approval at each victory

Finally, it was time to roll the dice.

Flushed with victory, assured of the support of the applauding, yelling mob - I challenged Kamsa to single combat !!

A matter of calculation and gamble.

The calculation was simple. Kamsa ruled by fear, not love, and he who rules by fear may never appear weak, especially not before a crowd in a public place.

Even so, he may have feigned outrage, may have refused to fight and had me clapped in irons, and then all would be lost.

That's where the gamble came in.

I gambled on pride - that obdurate "kshatriya pride"  which blinds our entire ruling class, forcing them to put "honour" before expediency, even against the most ridiculous odds.

I gambled and held my breath, glaring at the king with the most arrogant expression I could muster.

A long silence, stretching for eons while my heart hammered in my ears - and Kamsa accepted.

After that it was easy.

Bloated with wine and over-indulgence, severely out of breath, the guy never really had a chance.

I drew it out a bit, playing to the crowd, milking their support and sympathy.

Then a swift sidestep, a quick parry, a thrust to the neck - and Kamsa lay dead in the arena while coins, flowers and articles of clothing showered down from the audience....

So, King of Mathura then ?

Not officially.

If my popularity had soared to the skies with Kamsa's death, I pushed it far into the great beyond by releasing the imprisoned Ugrasena - father of the Kamsa - and crowning him king.

You don't get it, do you ? You and our entire blockheaded kshatriya caste ?

Understand, my friend, that while people may genuflect to him who sits on the throne with crown on head, true power lies with the one who holds the reins behind.

With the added convenience that a rival's sword is almost always aimed at the head with the crown.

So, there we are. From cowherd to de facto king in the space of a day. 

Impressive, eh ?

Now the first problem at hand - establishing a royal lineage for moi.

A minute's thought reveals that all the multifarious kings and nobles dotting our land couldn't possibly have been of royal blood.

But you see, good form demands that one must at least try to link oneself to a line of kings stretching right back to the dawn of Creation.

Plus a royal lineage - genuine or invented - allows you to draw on a network of contacts and alliances.

Extremely convenient in a pinch.

So, yes, a little "blue-ing of the blood" would be very useful indeed. 

I have set the local brahmins to working on the problem.

Trust they can come up with something interesting.

Krishna's Diary: Entry 3

I have left Vrindavan. 

For good.

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.

As if.

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.

Krishna's Diary: Entry 2

The tantrums were long-drawn and tearful as predicted. 

Just when I felt I could stand no more, I had a fit of inspiration and grabbed Radha's feet.

 "Forgive me, love of my heart", I cried, voice a-tremble with false emotion, "Grace my head with your lotus feet and forgive me."

Something that corny can't possibly work, you think ? You'll be amazed.

Radha's back in the sack again with much mushy talk and protestations of endless love. Completely predictable.

Is that all life has in store for me ? Herding cows, playing the flute, bedding gullible gopinis with cliches and play-acting, always in this same little village ?

The elders say it is. 

That, as a cowherd, this is my "swadharma", determined for me by my actions in previous lives. 

That I should dedicate my life to enacting my swadharma with no thought of future reward or consequence.

Ridiculous !!

Why resign myself to a life of tedium based on supposed actions in past lives I can neither recall nor verify ?

Why act at all if I do not care about reward or consequence ?

I suspect this nonsense was dreamed up by the elders to rationalize the futility of their own narrow lives. I'm having none of it.

There must be something more than this. There has to be a way to escape this idyllic morass. There has to be.

Krishna's Diary: Entry 1

Slight hiccup today.

Emerged from Chandravali's house after a very, ahem, pleasant afternoon to run straight into Radha. 

Which means another long round of tears and tantrums in the very near future. Tiresome.

Guess I'll just recycle my old line about "You are the queen of my heart while the others are mere distractions". 

Given that I have trotted this out in various guises, oh, at least a dozen times before, you think she'd see the pattern by now. But of course not.

That's the problem with the people here in Vrindavan.

Not that I'm complaining mind you. Life is decent. Low expectations, low pressure. 

Plus loads of women - generally quite shapely and more important, extremely eager to please !

No surprises there - I am the only decent prospect for many yojanas around and their desperation is quite apparent, really.

In fact, once, on a lark, I decided to test if said desperation extended so far as to step out of the river into full public view in the nude, just to please me. And believe it or not... but I digress.

The problem with the people here is that they are dumb as rocks.

Makes them easy to impress, though.

Like that time, when I killed a large-ish snake by the riverside. The tale grew in the telling and soon I was "Conqueror of Kaliya - Snake King of the River".

Snake King, indeed. Anybody paying the slightest attention, instead of running around in wild panic, would have noticed it was not venomous - I was never in any danger.

Or even better, the incident when everyone panicked during a thunderstorm and I suggested that they shelter in the rain shadow of Govardhana Parvat nearby.

That time I became "Saviour of Vrindavan from the Wrath of Indra."

Which, of course, made the gopinis even more willing to please, if you can imagine that !

But honestly, I find this all rather pointless. At the end of the day I am merely a hero among simpletons, a playboy among cowgirls, a smallish fish in a very tiny pond.

Balarama is quite happy here - all he desires is a chance to swing his club, a large pot of local brew (preferably a very large pot) and perhaps, an occasional roll in the hay.

As for me, I am bored stiff.