Chapter 1: The Call to Mathura

The gentle sound of music filled the air as the sun began to set over the lush fields of Vrindavan. This peaceful village, known for its playful tales and divine stories, was about to become the backdrop for a significant journey. It was here that the legendary brothers, Krishna and Balarama, grew up, spreading joy and defeating evil with their divine powers.

In a corner of the village, an important conversation was taking place. King Nanda, the fatherly figure who had raised Krishna and Balarama, was deep in thought. He remembered the words of Gargamuni, the wise sage who had foretold the destiny of the two brothers. "These boys will be the downfall of the tyrant Kansa," Gargamuni had said. From that day, Nanda had been preparing himself for the moment when Krishna and Balarama would leave for Mathura.

It was on this day that Akrura, a noble messenger from Mathura, arrived in Vrindavan. He came with a king's orders, not seeking permission, but to fulfill a command. As he approached Nanda's house, his heart was lightened by the sight of Krishna and Balarama.

King Nanda welcomed Akrura with open arms. "Come, great Akrura," he said warmly. "Welcome to our home. You must be weary from your long journey. Let me wash your feet and fan you to ease your fatigue. Please, honored guest, take this seat."

Akrura, humbled by Nanda's hospitality, replied, "Oh Lord, why would you serve me? Am I not worthy of serving you?"

"In this land of Braj, it is our duty to serve our guests," Nanda insisted. "Please do not refuse our hospitality."

Krishna and Balarama, ever gracious, took care of Akrura. Krishna offered him a delicious meal, while Balarama draped a fragrant garland around his neck. Akrura felt content and pure inside. Then King Nanda approached him and asked, "How are you managing under the cruel rule of the merciless Kansa?"

Akrura's face clouded with concern as he thought of Mathura's suffering. "The less said about Mathura, the better," he sighed. "Even after punishing innocent people like Vasudeva and Devaki, Kansa is not satisfied. He has imprisoned them again. The old King Ugrasena languishes in jail; I don't know how long he will survive."

As evening fell, Krishna and Balarama sat with Akrura, away from the others. Akrura noticed Krishna's usually cheerful face seemed a bit sad. Holding Akrura's hand, Krishna spoke softly, "My parents suffer so much because of me. That wicked Kansa has thrown them into a dark prison and killed their newborn children. The people of Mathura cry day and night. I've longed to meet someone from Mathura, and now that you're here, please tell me why you have come."

Akrura explained everything about Kansa's plans, the plots to kill Krishna and Balarama. The brothers listened quietly, their expressions calm. Then Krishna turned to his father, King Nanda, and said, "Father, King Kansa has invited everyone from Vrindavan. He is going to hold a bow ceremony in Mathura. Honorable Akrura has come to take my brother and me. Everyone from Braj must go, Father. It's the king's invitation."

The air was thick with anticipation as the villagers of Vrindavan prepared for what was to come. The journey to Mathura would mark the beginning of a new chapter in their lives, one filled with destiny and the promise of change.

Chapter 2: The Heartbreak of Departure

King Nanda nodded thoughtfully at Krishna's words, his expression a mix of pride and concern. "Yes, of course, we will all go," he assured his son, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I will send word to everyone right away, Kanai." With that, King Nanda set about informing the people of Vrindavan about the invitation from King Kansa. He also reminded them to bring offerings of milk, ghee, butter, and other precious goods to Mathura.

As the news spread that Krishna and Balaram would be leaving Braj, it was as if a storm had swept through the village. In King Nanda's house, Mother Yashoda was inconsolable. Tears streamed down her face as she cried out, "Oh God, what punishment are you giving me, Lord? My Kanai and Balai, whom I cannot stay away from even for a moment, will leave me forever. What will I do now, God? I have no choice but to die."

Her friend tried to comfort her, though her own heart was heavy. "Oh Yashoda, what are you saying? If Kanai and Balai hear this, they will be so upset. Your crying will bring them misfortune. Why did this happen? Whose sin caused this? I haven't done anything wrong, King. Then why is God punishing me?"

Yashoda wiped her tears with the edge of her sari. "Why do you think of it as punishment, Yashoda?" she asked, trying to sound hopeful. "The king himself has invited Kanai and Balai. They will return after honoring the invitation. But my heart feels uneasy. I can't accept it. Who will take care of Kanai if not me? Who will feed them? They don't even know how to eat on their own."

Her friend placed a reassuring hand on Yashoda's arm. "Yashoda, calm down, calm down. It's the royal palace; there is no shortage of people to care for them there. They are the king's guests. Besides, I will also go to Mathura. Don't worry. Kanai and Balai will not be neglected."

Yet the sorrow was not confined to Yashoda alone. When the gopis, the young cowherd women of Vrindavan, heard the news, their hearts shattered. They gathered together, their cries echoing through the village. Some fainted as soon as they heard, while others beat their foreheads in despair.

"We are burning with our own sorrow and sighs," one gopi lamented, her voice choked with tears. "Why? Why are you so cruel? If Krishna was going to leave, why did you bring him to us? Why did we fall in love with him? Our hearts and souls are no longer ours; they belong to Krishna! How will we live now? How will we live?"

"Krishna, oh Krishna," another cried out. "Was this your plan, Madhav? Why? What was our fault? Was loving you with all our hearts a crime? Tell us, Madhav, please tell us. Don’t cry, friend, don’t cry. What’s the use of blaming fate? Nothing happens without Krishna’s will. Shyamsundar himself has given us this terrible pain. Instead of love, he has given us such a cruel blow."

"You’re right, friend," a third gopi agreed, her voice trembling. "This is Shyam’s nature. He runs after new attractions. Why would he remember us, friend? Who are we to him? In Mathura, you saw how easily Shyam left Vrindavan. But we can’t let go of Krishna so easily, can we? We made a mistake. A mistake. Our hearts are breaking with sorrow. Where is Shyam, where? He didn’t come even once, friend, not even once."

"But is it fair to only blame Shyam?" another asked softly. "Shyamsundar has answered the prayers of the women of Mathura. They must have also prayed to have Shyam. Maybe that’s why Shyam is going there. He doesn’t see any difference between people, friend. Mistake, mistake, mistake. No one loves Shyam like we do. No one can love him like we do. Mathura might love him for his looks. But we, we have been waiting for Shyam for lifetimes. Don’t compare us to Mathura, friend, don’t."

And Radha, the one who loved Krishna the most, was devastated by the news. When she heard it, the world seemed to fade away, and she fainted among her friends. They rushed to her side, their own grief momentarily forgotten as they tried to revive her.

"Radha, Radha, what happened to you? Radha, get up, friend, open your eyes," they urged, panic in their voices. "Bring water, friend, bring water. Sprinkle water on her face. Radha is unconscious. We must wake her first. Friend, fan her, friend, fan her. Krishna, Krishna."

As they tended to her, Radha slowly regained consciousness, her lips murmuring Krishna's name even in her fainting. Her friends sighed in relief, though their hearts remained heavy. "Radha, Radha, wake up, Radha," they whispered, hopeful. "Look, look, Keshav has come. Keshav, Keshav, what has happened, Keshav? What has happened, Keshav?"

Yet the pain of parting lingered, a shadow over the joy of their memories with Krishna.

Chapter 3: The Burden of Duty

The air was heavy with the sorrowful music of the flute, playing a tune as ancient as the stars. Radha lay on the soft grass, her eyes fluttering open as her friends gently fanned her. "Don't be sad, my friend," one of them whispered, trying to calm the storm in her heart. "Listen to me. Calm down, everyone. Radha, get up. Radha, get up."

Radha's eyes, still misty with the remnants of a dream, searched around desperately. "Krishna, are you going to leave?" she asked, her voice trembling with fear and longing.

Krishna, standing with a serene yet pained expression, replied softly, "Radha, have you forgotten why I came to this world with you at the command of Lord Brahma? I have come to lighten the burden of this world. You know that, Radha."

Radha's heart clenched at his words. "And me? What will happen to me, Madhav? If you leave, I won't survive. Without Krishna, Radha has no existence, Madhusudan."

Krishna shook his head, his eyes full of love. "Krishna is never without Radha, can never be. Where there is Krishna, there is Radha. Where there is Radha, there is Krishna. Who can separate us? The eyes that see us as separate are tainted, don't you know that, Radha?"

Tears welled up in Radha's eyes. "Today you say this, Krishna. One day, if you couldn't see this Radha, Braj would feel empty to you, Madhav."

Krishna's voice was filled with gentle assurance. "Isn't that still true today, Radha? So don't leave Radha like this. You might forget me when you go to Mathura. But I will slowly wither away here, holding onto your memory and longing, Madhav. That's how I will die."

"What are you saying, Radha?" Krishna asked, his heart aching. "Have you forgotten yourself, me, the purpose of our coming to this world, my dear? Now the time has come for duty, and I cannot ignore its call. But my sweetness, my love, my heart, all remain here in Braj, Radha. Everything stays here, everything stays with you."

Radha's voice was barely a whisper. "Is our separation inevitable? Is there truly no way to stop this?"

Krishna gently wiped away her tears. "Don't be sad, Radha. Sadness doesn't suit you. You think of it as separation, but I don't. When I look at myself, I see you. And remember Sridham's curse, Radha. In Goloka, he cursed you, saying we would be separated for a hundred years. His words cannot be false, my dear."

Radha nodded, recalling the past. "After Sridham's curse, you also blessed me, Hari. You said that even during this time of separation, we would meet once a month. Do you remember that, Krishna?"

"Yes, Radha, I remember. I haven't forgotten anything. I will keep my promise. Now calm down, Radha, calm down."

One of Radha's friends spoke up, her voice filled with concern. "And us? What will happen to us, Hari? Where will we go?"

Krishna smiled gently. "You are always with me, and you will remain so. You are in my heart. No one can take you away from there, my friend. We will meet again. Don't be sad."

As the scene unfolded, a wise sage and a king, Parikshit, watched from a distance. The king's heart ached with empathy. "I cannot accept this scene in my heart, Acharyadev. Every time I think about it, my heart trembles with this sorrow, this pain."

The sage, understanding the king's turmoil, spoke softly. "I understand, King, I understand. I can see it all clearly. You have become one with the feelings of the Gopis, Parikshit. The fire of separation from Krishna burns in your heart too, King. You are also suffering in this separation."

"I, I cannot stay calm, wise sage. My mind is troubled with question after question."

"Tell me, King, what questions are on your mind? Share them with me."

Parikshit took a deep breath, his brow furrowed with worry. "Did God really have to leave Braj?"

The sage nodded thoughtfully. "Wise sage, the call of duty is very strong, King. Can it be ignored? How could Lord Krishna, who is God himself, ignore his duty? How could he ignore time itself? That's why he had to go to Mathura. Otherwise, the duty of defeating Kansa would remain unfinished, King. It would remain unfinished. And how would the devotees of Mathura ever meet him?"

The king's voice was filled with yearning. "Why didn't he return to Braj after finishing his work in Mathura?"

The sage sighed, his eyes filled with ancient wisdom. "That... Why didn't Krishna promise to return? That wouldn't work, King. As you listen, you'll understand the reason yourself. Let me tell you about Ugrasena, Kansa's father, Parikshit. You'll see, he is very old. He cannot manage the kingdom."

Parikshit listened intently, his heart heavy with understanding. "Now think, King, if Krishna returned to Vrindavan right after defeating Kansa, chaos would break out in Mathura. That's why he had to take responsibility for that kingdom."

The king's eyes widened. "He didn't even promise to secretly visit Braj. Was there a problem with that, wise sage?"

"Yes, there was," the sage replied, his voice grave. "The problem's name was Jarasandha, Kansa's father-in-law. Because of him, heaven, earth, and the underworld had no warrior to fight Kansa. At that time, Jarasandha was the most powerful on earth. Krishna was his main enemy."

As the sage's words hung in the air, both the king and Radha understood the weight of Krishna's duty, though it did little to ease the pain of their hearts.

Chapter 4: The Departure

The sage paused, allowing the weight of his words to settle in the room. King Parikshit listened intently, his brow furrowed with concern. "Now, if Jarasandha somehow found out about Krishna's favorite place, what do you think would happen, Parikshit?" the sage asked, his voice calm yet foreboding.

King Parikshit nodded slowly, understanding the gravity of the situation. "I understand, wise sage. He would destroy Vrindavan."

The sage nodded in agreement. "Yes, King. Vrindavan is a simple, peaceful village. It could never withstand an attack from Jarasandha or Kansa's other ally kings. Even without a direct attack, Jarasandha could harm Vrindavan in other ways."

"But Lord," Parikshit interjected, a hint of desperation in his voice, "Krishna could have brought his family from Vrindavan to Mathura. Then they could see him. He could have done this if he wanted. Why didn't he, wise sage? Please answer this question for me."

The sage sighed softly, as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. "That too was not possible. It would have created many problems."

"Why, wise sage? What problems are you talking about? Please explain," the king urged, leaning forward eagerly.

The sage's eyes were gentle yet firm. "Look, King, Krishna of Vrindavan is a cowherd boy. He plays the flute. He takes care of cows and calves. He entertains everyone in Vrindavan. This Krishna is not the same as the Krishna of Mathura. There, he is a warrior. A royal figure. He will be bound by battles, politics, strategies, and duties. Vrindavan cannot bear that form, O King. It cannot. And Mathura will never see him as the flute player. So how can the two places ever come together? In Vrindavan, there is love, and in Mathura, there is duty. These two forms cannot exist together, O King."

King Parikshit listened, his heart heavy with understanding. "I understand, my Lord, just like the people of Braj could not be at ease even after seeing Vaikuntha. You have told me this yourself."

"Yes, King, you have understood correctly," the sage affirmed. "The people could not unite Rasraj, the Lord of Braj, and Hari, the Supreme Controller. Vrindavan is content with its form of love. They do not want any other form. Their devotion is unwavering."

Parikshit nodded slowly, his mind finally at peace. "What does this mean, my Lord?"

"It means steadfast devotion, focused on one particular form. No other form or feeling can mix with it. Just like the great Hanuman is devoted to the form of Ram, Vrindavan could not accept any form other than their Rasraj. This would have caused a great religious conflict, do you understand, O King?"

"Yes, my Lord, now I understand everything. I have no more doubts in my mind. I am at peace, my Lord. The fire of sorrow in my heart has been extinguished. Now, please tell me the story of Krishna's journey to Mathura, O wise sage. I am ready to hear it now."

The sage's eyes twinkled with a mixture of sadness and wisdom. "Do you know, Parikshit? Telling the story of the journey to Mathura is like narrating the tale of Akrura's chariot passing over the soul of Braj. It is as difficult to speak of as it is to understand. When the wind blows, a fire goes out, O King. But a wildfire blazes even more fiercely. In Vrindavan, that wildfire has now ignited, O King. The wildfire has ignited."

As dawn broke, Akrura's chariot stood ready, gleaming in the early light. He would take Balarama and Krishna with him, taking the soul of Vrindavan with them. By the order of King Nanda, other carts were being filled with pots of milk, curd, and other goods from Braj. They too would make the journey to Mathura.

"O Balarama, O Madhava," Akrura called out reverently, "I have prepared this chariot with a pure heart because it will carry you. Nothing on this chariot is impure. The time for our journey has come, King Nanda. Please grant us permission."

King Nanda's voice trembled with emotion as he bid farewell. "Farewell, Father. Farewell, Mother. We shall take our leave now."

"Go carefully, Kanai. Keep an eye on your younger brother, Balarama," Nanda advised, his voice thick with emotion.

"Will you bring the people of Braj with you?" a voice called out.

"Yes, Father, we are right behind you," Krishna replied, his tone reassuring.

Nanda's voice cracked with sadness. "Go safely, Krishna. Krishna, will I ever see you again, my child? How will I live without you? Who will call me 'Mother' now, Krishna?"

Krishna turned to his mother, his eyes filled with love and reassurance. "Mother, Mother, please don't cry like this. How can we leave if you cry? I will come back to you, Mother. I will come back. Just close your eyes and think of me, and you will see me. I will never leave your lap, Mother. I promise. Don't cry, Mother. My dear Mother, don't cry. I promise, I will return."

The chariot sped along the dusty road towards Mathura, carrying Krishna and Balaram. Their journey was swift until a large crowd blocked their path. Villagers stood firm in the middle of the road, their faces a mix of determination and sorrow. Some even lay down in front of the chariot’s wheels, a desperate attempt to stop Krishna from leaving.

Cries filled the air as people shouted, “We won’t let Madhav go!” Others threw sticks and stones at the horses, their voices raised in protest and pain. “You can’t take him from us!” they yelled, their hearts heavy with the thought of losing Krishna.

Krishna, seeing the distress of the gopis and the villagers, stepped down from the chariot. He approached them with a calm and gentle demeanor. “Please, my dear friends,” he said softly, “do not be troubled. I promise to return. You will always find me in your hearts.” His words were like a soothing balm, calming the storm of emotions around him.

With a heavy heart, Krishna returned to the chariot. As it moved forward, the dust swirled in its wake, leaving the gopis standing by the roadside, watching until they could see him no more. They clung to the hope that Krishna would one day return to Vrindavan, but as the chariot disappeared over the horizon, they sighed deeply and sat down, hearts heavy with longing.

The journey continued until Akrur, the chariot driver, reached the banks of the Yamuna River. The clear, sweet water sparkled under the sun, offering a moment of respite. Krishna and Balaram drank from the river, and Akrur, seeking purification, waded into the water, chanting the sacred Gayatri mantra.

As Akrur submerged himself, something miraculous happened. In the depths of the Yamuna, he saw Krishna and Balaram. But how could that be? They were on the chariot just moments ago. Confused, he emerged from the water and glanced back at the riverbank. There, under the shade of a tree, sat the chariot, and on it, Krishna and Balaram were seated as before.

Akrur’s eyes returned to the water, and what he saw next was even more astonishing. Before him appeared Ananta Dev, the great serpent with a thousand hoods, crowned and majestic. Around Ananta Dev stood celestial beings and sages, their presence luminous and divine. Resting on Ananta Dev's lap was Lord Narayan, his form resplendent in yellow garments, his skin dark like a rain-filled cloud, adorned with precious jewels.

Akrur, overwhelmed by this divine vision, felt his body tremble with awe. Tears filled his eyes as he realized he was witnessing the presence of the Supreme Lord. "Oh Supreme Being," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion, "you are eternal. You are the source of all creation. Everything begins and ends with you. The wise, the yogis, and the devotees all find their truth in you. All divine forms are but reflections of your glory. Oh Lotus-naveled one, I bow to you."

With each word, Akrur’s heart overflowed with devotion, and he bowed repeatedly to Lord Narayan. But as swiftly as it appeared, the divine vision vanished, leaving only the gentle ripples of the Yamuna. Akrur, still filled with the warmth of the encounter, quickly finished his bath and returned to the chariot, his face radiant with love and wonder.

Krishna, noticing Akrur’s gleaming expression, asked with a gentle smile, “Oh wise Akrur, did you see any strange sight in the sky, on the ground, or in the waters of the Yamuna?”

Akrur, his heart full of reverence, replied, “Oh Lord, oh Master, having seen you, there is nothing else left for me to see. Everything in creation is within you. You are the form of the entire universe. Your form is the universal form. So what else is there to see, Lord? After you went into the Yamuna, I couldn't see you for a long time. I thought you might have been enchanted by some amazing sight. Now, let's proceed to Mathura.”

With these words, the chariot continued its journey, carrying the brothers towards their destiny in Mathura, leaving behind a trail of memories and a promise of return.

Chapter 5: Arrival in Mathura

"As you wish, Lord," Akrura said, guiding the chariot steadily towards Mathura. The sun hung high in the sky, casting long shadows as they approached the city gates.

Soon, the bustling city of Mathura lay before them, its gates wide open, welcoming travelers from near and far. King Nanda, along with Upananda, Sunanda, and others from Vrindavan, had already arrived, eagerly awaiting the brothers. Krishna and Balarama stepped down from the chariot, their feet touching the sacred earth of Mathura.

"You may take the chariot and return home, wise Akrura," Krishna said, turning to their loyal companion. "We will rest here for a while and then explore the city of Mathura."

Akrura shook his head, his eyes filled with devotion. "No, Lord, forgive me," he replied earnestly. "I cannot leave you here and go anywhere else. The Lord of the three worlds, Narayana, is standing on the road, and I should go home? No, no, that cannot be. I am very tired now; I will rest here for a while."

Krishna smiled gently at Akrura's unwavering loyalty. "Please, Lord, come to my home in the evening," Akrura continued, his voice pleading. "I will make all arrangements for your rest. My family, my honor, my ancestors will all be blessed, Lord. I beg you, come to my home, Madhava."

"We will definitely visit your home, great Akrura," Krishna assured him, "but not right now. It's not the right time yet. First, we need to defeat the wicked and cruel Kansa, save Mathura from danger, and then listen to what our relatives have to say. Please go back and don't delay."

Reluctantly, Akrura accepted Krishna's command. His heart heavy, he returned alone, his chariot wheels turning slowly as if unwilling to part from the divine presence. He made his way to Kansa's palace, knowing he had to report his success in bringing Krishna and Balarama to Mathura.

When King Kansa heard of their arrival, his face twisted with fury and a burning desire for revenge. Meanwhile, Krishna and Balarama wandered freely around Mathura, their eyes taking in the sights and sounds of the vibrant city.

As they explored, they encountered Kubja, a humble servant of Kansa. Her heart was captivated by Krishna's charm, and she willingly offered him all the treasures she had saved for the king.

And thus, this chapter of the story draws to a close. In the next part, you will hear more about Krishna's adventures, as told by the great sage Vedavyasa in the Shrimad Bhagavatam and the Garg Samhita.

Production Notes

• Main roles: Sukdev Shubhajit Chatterjee, Parikshit Spandan Das, Nanda Sudipta Ghosh, Young Krishna Gairik Dasgupta, Yashoda Chaitri Banerjee, Friend Amrapali Ghosh, Companion Sangeeta Ganguly, Radha Sunaina Bhowmik, Agra Kaushik Banerjee.
• Play adaptation: Mahua Banerjee
• Sound recording and ambiance: Satyajit Sen
• Sound design and mixing: Sabyasachi Mukherjee
• Directed by: Shaoli Majumdar
• Creative direction: Indrani Chakraborty
• Produced by: Pastel Entertainment
• Times of Puran for you: Mirchi Bangla YouTube Channel and Gaana app.