The Kuru War: A Mahabharata Fiction

10| Avatar of Vishnu

Mathura, 480 BCE

Krishna stood on the balcony of his room, overlooking the farthest reaches of Mathura. The first light of dawn had just hit the thick layer of fog and scattered to illuminate the city underneath. He held the golden railings between him and a three hundred foot drop, staring at the overcrowded slum in front of him. The stark contrast between the city and Kans's palace was revolting.

It was Krishna's first night in the royal palace of Matura, and he could not sleep one bit. He was elected the new king after defeating Kans. A farmer's son from Gokul. A seemingly ordinary herdsman who should have no relation to the royal bloodline. But no matter how unlikely it appeared, there was something far from ordinary about him.

As soon as Krishna stepped into the King's arena a few days ago, and challenged Kans to a deathmatch, the entire population present at the venue already knew who he was. They chanted his name, Krishna...Krishna...Krishna... throughout his battle against the tyrannical Rakshasa ruler as if they were waiting for it to happen for a long time. Some said it was prophesied years ago by a great priest who had cursed Kans to an early death. Death by the hands of the highest deity himself. The prophecy mentioned the eighth Avatar of Vishnu to appear and correct the course of human progression, starting with Mathura.

Krishna was aware that he was different from any ordinary being. He wasn't a trained warrior but could use a bow with precision like none other, he could dance with a blade against dozens of opponents at a time, and possessed the power to wield the heaviest of maces with ease. But he claimed himself to be a man, a mortal with extraordinary ability, not a Vishnu.

Following Krishna's birth, all kinds of trouble followed him and his family throughout his early childhood. Bhutas, Pishachas and several demonic threats were attracted to Krishna's aura for some unknown reason. Hence, one day, the villagers decided to organize a Havan ceremony in an attempt to lift whatever curse plagued the boy. But a Witch named Putana invaded the ritual and attempted to kill the villagers. She was a skilled practitioner of dark magic, drawing power from the depths of Narak Loka. When the ceremony's priest could not stand against the Witch's powerful spells, a newborn Krishna floated out of his cradle and strangled Putana without even touching her. Everyone around witnessed the impossible, how the newborn killed a powerful Witch. The story quickly traveled kingdom to kingdom, and rumors of the eighth Avatar of Vishnu started to circulate across the entire continent. Krishna's mother immediately rejected the idea of her baby being a God, and their family went into hiding for the next twenty years. So, Krishna grew up in a remote village named Gokul, with his mother Yashoda, father Vasudeva, and older brother Balarama.

Krishna remained at the same spot, lost inside his head, for over an hour. His eyes dancing between whatever details he could make out in the narrow streets below.

"You are still here, my love?"

The door connecting the balcony to the main bedroom swung open. A woman dressed in a beautiful green saree walked behind Krishna and hugged him from behind.

"Something bothering you?" she asked."

"I don't know if I made a mistake, Radha. I don't know if I should be here. This is not who I am."

Krishna spoke in a faint voice. He held Radha's hands that firmly wrapped around his torso.

"So, who are you?" asked Radha.

Krishna turned away from the view of the city and faced Radha. He stooped his neck while she looked up so they could match each other's eyes. Krishna's gaze bounced from her kajal to her long shimmering earrings and stopped at her thin red lips that were stretched across her face in a smile.

"You look beautiful," said Krishna.

Radha's smile widened as he looked away, blushing. She pressed one side of her face and ear against Krishna's chest. She could hear his quickened heartbeat.

"I am not who they think I am. I am just a man. And haven't I done enough already? If there was a prophecy, then I fulfilled it, but I am no king, and certainly not a Vishnu."

Radha did not reply, she knew that Krishna was troubled for a while now. It was only natural, so much had happened in the last few days. Everything had changed. She could have never imagined surviving through it without him. She just focused on the rhythmic thumping coming from her husband's chest.

"I miss them too," said Radha breaking the brief silence.

She looked up at Krishna again. His eyes were moist, and his face had shrunk as he tried to hold back his tears.

"You are the one who decides your identity, Krishna. The people of Mathura chose you because they saw someone who genuinely cared for them. Someone they could trust. Yes, they think that you are a God, not because you are strong and you defeated Kans, but it is because they recognize your heart. A brave man who challenged a King for what he loved."

Radha paused to wipe a single teardrop that managed to slip past Krishna. He bent forward, letting her reach his face.

"Honestly, if that's what a God is, then I think you are one. Not a Vishnu, but Krishna. And you will not turn your back on the people who trusted you. You will lead them into a bright future, I know that." said Radha.

Radha stayed in Krishna's arm; she enjoyed the cold breeze at the balcony under the warmth and comfort of Krishna's body. She knew that her presence made Krishna feel at ease. So, the two of them just stood there, in that moment, looking back at everything they had been through together. An ordinary life together seemed impossible now.