Chapter 1: The Unseen Eyes

The air was alive with music as Mirchi's special presentation, "Times of the Past," began, drawing everyone into the ancient tales of Krishna. The melodies seemed to weave through the stories of old, promising a journey into the sacred scriptures of Shrimad Bhagavat Mahapuran and Garg Samhita, penned by the wise Maharishi Vedvyas.

Today, the listeners would hear about Krishna and the worship of Katyayani, a tale as old as time itself.

In a small village, the sun had barely begun its descent when heated voices echoed through a modest home. Jatila, her face flushed with anger, stormed inside with her daughter, Kutila, close behind. Her thoughts were a whirlwind, her mind replaying the scene she had witnessed on Govardhan Hill.

"Ayan, oh Ayan!" Jatila called out, her voice sharp and urgent.

Ayan appeared, concern etched into his features. "What happened, mother? Is there any trouble? Why are you so upset?" he asked, bewildered by her distress.

Jatila's eyes blazed. "Why wouldn't I be upset? I've been telling you for so long, don't you listen to me?"

Ayan shook his head, trying to understand. "What are you saying, mother? I don't listen to you? Tell me what happened. Did someone insult you, mother?"

"No, dear, not yet. But they will now," Jatila lamented. "Everyone will scorn us. If you let that girl into the house, we'll be ruined, Ayan."

"Who will ruin us? Who are you talking about, mother?" Ayan asked, his confusion growing.

"About Radha, who else, dear? You never believe what I say. Now go, see for yourself what kind of mischief is happening on Govardhan Hill."

Kutila, standing by her mother's side, added, "Our suspicions were true, brother. Gaurani is playing with Krishna. They are completely lost in their own world. They have no sense of anything around them. All the people of Vrindavan are nearby. They can all see them. Oh, what a shame, what a shame! Radha, Radha did this!"

Ayan's heart sank as he listened. "We saw it with our own eyes, brother," Kutila pressed on. "Stay with that Nandagopi's son. Kutila, you don't need to say anything more. Will he believe you? Only if he sees it himself. Go, dear, that group is still on Govardhan. See your wife's mischief with your own eyes."

"But Radha told me she was going to Govardhan Hill today to worship Katyayani," Ayan protested, clinging to his trust in Radha.

Jatila nodded, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Didn't you go to the Katyayani Temple? Then go see how your wife is doing the Katyayani Puja. Why should we be blamed?"

"Yes, I will see everything with my own eyes. I'm going right now," Ayan resolved, though his heart was heavy with doubt.

As Ayan started towards Govardhan, each step was a battle between his mind and heart. He respected Radha deeply, and the thought of her being involved in mischief was hard to accept. Yet, his mother's and sister's words weighed heavily on him.

At the foot of Govardhan Hill, Ayan paused, his heart pounding. High above, Lord Krishna was with Radharani. Did Krishna know of Ayan's turmoil? Surely the Lord, with his divine sight, understood all.

Amidst the laughter and play, Krishna suddenly turned serious. "Stop the game, my friend. It's not time to play anymore," he said, his voice carrying a note of forewarning.

Radharani looked at him, puzzled. "Why, Krishna? Are you tired so easily, or are you thinking of another friend?"

Krishna smiled gently, his eyes full of knowing. "I was thinking about your fate, Radha."

"What do you mean by my fate, Madhav?" Radha asked, curiosity threading her voice as the shadows of the evening began to stretch across the land.

As the evening shadows deepened, Krishna's voice took on a serious tone. "Ayan Ghosh is coming, Radha," he warned, his gaze steady and calm. "After hearing unpleasant things about you from his mother and sister, he wants to see for himself. You should hide behind a tree on this hill. We'll let you know when he leaves, okay?"

Radha's eyes widened with concern. "Make sure Ayan Ghosh doesn't see me, Madhav. Protect me, please," she pleaded, her voice trembling slightly.

Krishna nodded reassuringly. "What did you tell your husband before coming here, Radha?" he asked gently, his curiosity piqued.

"I told him I was going to do the Katyayani Puja with my friends," Radha replied, a hint of worry in her voice. "But now what will happen, Krishna? I don't even have the things needed for the puja."

Krishna's smile was comforting. "Don't worry, my dear. You will do the Katyayani Puja," he promised.

"But how?" Radha questioned, glancing around. "There is no temple here, no idol. How can I do the puja?"

Krishna's eyes twinkled with a mysterious light. "Who said there's no idol? Look closely at me, Radha. Can you see Goddess Katyayani?"

Radha stared at him in amazement. "Goddess Katyayani! Has Lord Krishna turned into Goddess Katyayani, wise one?" she exclaimed, her voice filled with awe.

"Yes, King, exactly," another voice chimed in, narrating the story with enthusiasm. "Krishna himself has taken the form of Katyayani. With a grand crown, four arms, three eyes, and a peaceful smile, she is awe-inspiring."

As Radha and her friends beheld this incredible transformation, they were filled with wonder. "Come, friend," Krishna, now in the form of the goddess, invited. "You wanted to do the Katyayani Puja, so come and do it. There, in front of you, is the puja plate. All the things you need for the puja are there. Worship with all your heart."

Radha and her friends, their hearts brimming with devotion, gathered around to worship Katyayani, the great goddess, the supreme yogini. They offered colored powders, flowers, sandalwood, garlands, and incense, their prayers sincere and heartfelt.

From a distance, Nayan Ghosh watched this sacred scene unfold. He bowed his head in respect, a devotee of the goddess Kali himself. Seeing his wife and her friends worshipping with such dedication filled him with joy, and he returned home with a light heart. He called out to his mother, his voice firm yet gentle. "Radha is being unfairly blamed, but I saw her..."

"I saw it with my own eyes, Mother," he continued, conviction strong in his words. "You criticize her without reason because you can't see the truth. You didn't witness her devotion at Govardhan Hill. I saw her worship with all her heart and soul. Radha and her friends are worshipping the goddess Katyayani. Speaking falsely about someone who worships the goddess is a sin, Mother. Don't make such mistakes again."

The narrator's voice took on a reflective tone as the story unfolded further. "What an amazing story, my lord. Is this really possible? He protects his devotees himself. I've seen his unexpected kindness in every event in Vrindavan. Yes, King. He takes full responsibility for those who trust him. He even changes destiny with his own hands. That's why he's called the redeemer. And Vrindavan is his beloved land. That's why he showed the people of Vrindavan what even the gods can't see. Yes, King, he gave them a glimpse of heaven. The people of Vrindavan experienced heaven firsthand."

"Tell me this story in detail, my lord. I want to hear it," the King requested, eager for more.

"I will, King," the narrator promised. "To tell this story, I must start with King Nanda. One day, after observing the Ekadashi fast, King Nanda went to bathe in the Yamuna River. Other cowherds were standing on the riverbank. But as soon as King Nanda entered the water, Varuna's attendants took him to Varuna's realm. Seeing King Nanda disappear, the cowherds ran to Krishna in fear."

"Krishna, Krishna!" they cried out, their voices filled with urgency. "They took King Nanda. Krishna, they took my father. Who took him? Varuna's attendants took King Nanda. Krishna, he was calling your name from the unseen. I heard him."

Krishna's expression hardened with determination. "What! How dare Varuna do this! I will dive into the Yamuna and bring my father back from Varuna's realm right now," he declared, his voice resolute.

Without hesitation, Krishna dived into the Yamuna, his heart set on rescuing his father. He reached Varuna's realm swiftly, his anger evident as he confronted Varuna. "How dare you bring my father here, Varuna? What is his crime?"

Varuna, humbled and reverent, bowed before Krishna. "Please forgive my boldness, Lord. I had the chance to see you. Everyone in this land is eager for your divine presence. That's why I brought King Nanda here. You must come to take him back, Lord. Please accept my respects. Oh Narayan, forgive us."

And thus, the story continued, weaving tales of devotion and divine intervention, as the people of Vrindavan witnessed the wonders of Krishna's love and protection.

Chapter 2: The Light of Vaikuntha and the Shadow of Danger

In the land of Varuna, King Nanda was overwhelmed by the honor and respect shown to Krishna. When he returned to Braj, he couldn't wait to share his awe and wonder with everyone. As he recounted the grandeur he had witnessed, the people of Braj listened intently, their eyes wide with admiration.

"Madhav," one of the villagers began, a hopeful note in their voice, "we have a request. We all want to see Vaikuntha just once. Please take us there."

"Yes, Krishna," another chimed in enthusiastically, "we all want to see Vaikuntha. Please, take us to that wonderful place."

Krishna, with a gentle smile and a twinkle in his eye, nodded. "Alright then," he said, "since you all wish for it, I will take you to Vaikuntha..."

He gestured towards the river. "Follow me. Dive into the Yamuna River, and you will reach Vaikuntha."

With hearts full of anticipation, everyone followed Krishna's words. They dove into the Yamuna, and as if by magic, they found themselves in Vaikuntha. The realm was bathed in a radiant light, brighter than any they had ever seen, like a sky lit by a thousand bolts of lightning. All around them, gods, including Brahma, bowed before Lord Hari or served him with great devotion. Lord Hari himself, majestic and resplendent, sat on a divine throne holding his conch, discus, club, and lotus, shining like a million suns. The air was filled with the fragrance of countless jewels and garlands, and the sound of sages and celestial beings singing praises.

The cowherds of Braj stood in awe, their eyes taking in the splendor of Vaikuntha. Lord Hari warmly welcomed them and gestured for them to be seated on a distant throne. As the excited cowherd boys began to speak, the attendants of Vaikuntha gently intervened.

"Do not speak here," they said softly. "Can't you see Lord Hari is present in his assembly? Only the Vedas are recited here, and no one else has the right to speak."

One of the cowherds, unable to contain himself, whispered to his friends, "Our Braj was better. There, we laughed and played with Krishna. We don't want to sit silently in Vaikuntha. Oh Krishna, please come back to Braj with us."

The people of Braj, despite the honor of being in Vaikuntha, longed for the simple joys of home. Their laughter echoed as they realized the value of their humble village, where love and sweetness reigned.

Back in Braj, the wise sage explained to the king, "No, King, that's not it. Braj is a place of sweetness. There, grandeur is not valued. Sweetness is above grandeur, and those who have love are not lacking anything. King, what more could they want? Braj is happy with Krishna. The endless Lord Hari didn't capture their hearts."

The king nodded, understanding dawning on him. "Oh, I see now, wise sage. Krishna didn’t take Vrindavan to Mathura or Dwaraka later on. This is because Vrindavan wouldn’t fit in with the role he had there. Those who aren’t interested in Vaikuntha, what else do they want besides sweetness? Love and sweetness are mixed together in Vrindavan. So, after leaving Vrindavan, Krishna was no longer a lover."

"You’re talking about leaving Vrindavan, my lord. Does that mean the days of Vrindavan’s pastimes are ending?" the king asked, a hint of sadness in his voice.

"Yes, Parikshit," the sage replied. "He will now end his sweet pastimes. Duty is a big responsibility, king. It’s time for action, not love. But before that, he must rescue Sudarshan and Shankhachor."

"Who are they, my lord?" Parikshit inquired, curiosity piqued.

"Sudarshan was a celestial musician. Due to a sage’s curse, he turned into a giant snake. He tried to swallow King Nanda whole."

The king leaned forward, eager to hear more. "Who is he? Then tell me the story from the beginning, king."

The sage began the tale. "Once, during Shivaratri, King Nanda took everyone to Ambika forest to worship Shiva. Afterward, he happily fed the Brahmins. The day passed joyfully. But after sunset, they couldn’t return home. Everyone lay down and fell asleep by the Saraswati River."

As the night deepened, King Nanda, resting peacefully, was unaware of the danger lurking nearby. A huge snake, hidden in the shadows, was very hungry. In the darkness, it slithered silently towards King Nanda, its eyes gleaming with hunger. As it began to swallow him, King Nanda awoke in terror.

"Krishna, Krishna, Krishna, save me, save me!" he cried out desperately. "Krishna, save me! What is this terrible thing? Where is everyone? Come quickly! A giant snake is swallowing King Nanda! Bring fire, bring burning sticks quickly! Save me, save me!"

The people of Braj, alarmed by his cries, rushed to his aid. They came with burning sticks and began to hit the snake, some even using sticks and clubs to strike its body. But the snake was unharmed and did not release King Nanda. Amidst all the shouting, Krishna arrived, his presence bringing a glimmer of hope. The people of Braj shouted loudly, and King Nanda, tears in his eyes, looked towards Krishna, his savior.

Krishna stepped forward, calming the frightened crowd with a gentle wave of his hand. "Do not fear," he said softly, placing his right foot on the snake's massive, coiling body. The people watched in awe, and then, something miraculous occurred.

With Krishna's divine touch, the snake's body began to glow and shimmer. Slowly, a handsome, radiant man emerged from within the serpent's form. His long hair flowed like a river, his forehead was adorned with sandalwood paste, and a fragrant garland hung around his neck. The man bowed deeply before Krishna, his eyes filled with gratitude.

"Who are you?" Krishna asked, his voice filled with curiosity and kindness. "You bear auspicious marks, yet you were trapped in such a lamentable state. Were you cursed by someone?"

The man nodded, his voice steady but filled with relief. "I bow to you, Lord," he said. "Thanks to your grace, I am finally free from the snake's curse. My name is Sudarshan, once the most handsome of the Gandharvas. But pride led me astray. I mocked the revered sages of the Angira clan, making fun of their appearance. In their righteous anger, they cursed me to become a snake. Today, by your mercy, I am free. Please, allow me to return to the eternal abode."

Krishna nodded, a gentle smile on his lips. "Very well, Sudarshan. You may go. But remember, let not your beauty become the cause of your downfall again."

Sudarshan bowed once more, his voice reverent. "Oh God, Oh Supreme Soul, your command will stay in my heart forever." With those words, he vanished, leaving behind a sense of peace and wonder.

The people of Braj watched in silence, their hearts filled with awe. Then, one of them spoke up, curiosity getting the better of him. "We heard Sudarshan's story. But who is this Shankhachur, Lord?"

Krishna looked around, his eyes settling on the eager faces of those gathered. "Shankhachur was a servant of Kubera," he began. "One night in Vrindavan, while the Gopis were enchanted by the divine music of my brother Balaram and me, Shankhachur saw them. The Gopis, lost in the music, were unaware of their surroundings. Seizing the opportunity, the wicked Shankhachur used his magic to capture them and began taking them to the Gandharva realm."

The crowd gasped, their eyes wide with shock. "Krishna! Balaram! Save us!" they imagined the Gopis crying out. "Help us, please, save us, protect us, Lord!"

Krishna continued, his voice steady. "At first, my brother and I were so absorbed in the music that we did not hear their cries. But when I realized what had happened, I was filled with fury. Balaram and I rushed towards Shankhachur with great force, each of us wielding a large tree."

The listeners leaned in, captivated by the tale. "Seeing us, Shankhachur was terrified," Krishna went on. "He abandoned the Gopis and tried to flee for his life. But I caught up with him and struck him down with a powerful blow. He fell, lifeless, and I took the precious jewel from his head as a gift for Balaram."

A wise sage among them nodded, understanding dawning on his face. "Sage, this Shankhachur's end was not just a play," he explained. "Those who perished by his actions were not part of a mere story. It was a rescue, a divine act."

The king, listening intently, asked, "So, what is the last act in Vrindavan, Lord?"

Krishna's eyes twinkled with a secret only he knew. "It is a deep act, Parikshit. You may call it the Maha Raas. It is a grander version of the Raas you have heard of before. At the center of this Raas stood Radha herself, and with her, I began the Raas Leela."

"What is Raas, Acharyadev?" the king inquired, his curiosity piqued.

"Raas is actually a dance," the sage explained. "Everyone forms a circle and dances around someone in the middle. Have you ever seen such a scene, King? That is the tradition of Raas. In the circle, there is only one male dancer, and the rest are female dancers. In the dance circle of Vrindavan, Krishna was the only male."

"Is that why it is called Raas, Lord?" the king asked, his eyes wide with wonder.

"Indeed," Krishna replied, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Krishna was the only male there. Unknowingly, you have said something very profound, Parikshit. You might not even realize what you have said."

The king bowed his head, humbled. "Please forgive me, Lord. I didn't understand what you said."

Krishna's voice was gentle as he continued. "Even the gods from heaven came to see that great dance, Parikshit. Lord Shiva himself came. But do you know the real story? None of them could stay in their male form. They had to take on a female form to enter the dance circle. Because, as you just said, in this circle, Krishna is the only male soul, and everyone else is nature."

The story hung in the air, leaving a sense of mystery and reverence in its wake, as the music of Vrindavan's eternal dance played softly in their hearts.

Chapter 3: The Dance of Many Krishnas

The evening air was filled with anticipation as Parikshit leaned closer, his eyes wide with wonder. "So, could the other men of Braj not be part of this dance, Acharyadev?" he asked eagerly.

Acharyadev smiled gently, his voice steady and calm. "No, King. This dance was for Krishna and Shri Radha. Their friends also joined in. Where Radharani is, Krishna will surely be with her."

Parikshit nodded, his curiosity piqued. "So, did the other friends get to be with Krishna?"

"Yes, King, each one of them did," Acharyadev replied, a twinkle in his eye. "As many friends as there were, there were that many Krishnas. He created one Krishna after another from himself. In the middle of the circle, he danced with Shri Radhika, and with each friend dancing in a circle, there was a Krishna with them. The dance circle was filled with countless Krishnas."

Parikshit shook his head in disbelief, trying to imagine such a scene. "It's hard to even imagine such a scene, Lord."

Acharyadev nodded in agreement. "No, King, it truly is. This event happened only once in this world. Countless Krishnas danced together, playing their flutes. The sound of the flute seemed to make waves all around. Hearing that tune, even the waters of the Yamuna River started to stir. Hours passed by, yet no one was aware of the time. Everyone was lost in a great trance. Hare Krishna. Hare Krishna. With each friend, Krishna danced in the way they wished. Everyone was filled with joy and satisfaction."

Parikshit leaned forward, eager for more. "I want to hear more about this great dance. Please tell me everything, Lord. What happened next?"

Acharyadev's voice grew softer, as if sharing a secret. "After that, Krishna disappeared from the dance circle. He could not be found. He vanished."

"Why, Lord? Where did he go?" Parikshit asked, his voice filled with concern.

Acharyadev explained with a gentle smile. "He vanished into thin air. Have you seen a bubble, King? When it disappears, nothing is left behind. Just like that, nothing of Krishna remained there. Not a trace."

Parikshit furrowed his brow, seeking understanding. "But why, Lord? Is there a reason behind this? Is this also part of his play?"

"Yes, King, there is definitely a reason. Where there is pride, Krishna does not stay. The divine-minded Gopis felt pride. They thought Krishna was dancing and playing just for them, wiping their tired faces with his own hands, taking care of them. Each one felt they had their own Krishna. That Krishna knew no one else but that Gopi."

Acharyadev paused, allowing the weight of his words to settle. "This happened when the Gopis thought Krishna belonged only to them and no one else. From this sense of ownership, pride was born. Where did he go, where did Madhav go? Alas, he was just with us. Where? Yes, now he is no longer here. Friend, friend, did you see? Madhav is not with me either. What do we do now? Where do we look? Let's go to the Kadamba forest by the Yamuna River and search everywhere."

The Gopis' voices filled with worry echoed in the air. "Surely, surely Madhav has played a trick on us. He is hiding somewhere. Let's go, let's go."

The group of friends began searching anxiously, their hearts heavy with longing. But they couldn't find Krishna anywhere. Soon, everyone began searching all over Vrindavan. Yet, Krishna was nowhere to be found.

The dance of Raas stopped, and the group of friends began to lament. "Oh Giridhari, where have you hidden, Lord? Why did you leave us? Come back, Madhav. Come back. Without you, this Raas is incomplete. Lord, please come back."

Then, a familiar voice broke through their despair. "Don't cry, friends. Here I am, Madhav."

"Madhav, where did you go? Why did you leave us? Why did you leave us? Answer us. Why are you silent?" they pleaded, relief washing over them.

Krishna's voice was gentle, yet full of wisdom. "Ask your hearts why I left. It knows the answer."

The Gopis' realization dawned upon them, their voices soft with understanding. "We understand now, Lord. When we had you with us, pride grew in our hearts. We forgot that it was your wish that brought us fortune. Madhav, forgive us, Krishna. Forgive us."

Krishna smiled, his forgiveness as vast as the universe. "Now that you realize your mistake and feel sorry, all is forgiven. Come, let's start our joy again."

As the friends resumed their joyful dance, their voices rose in song, filling the night air with the sacred chant: "Hare Krishna Hare Krishna, Krishna Krishna Hare Hare. Hare Rama Hare Rama, Rama Rama Hare Hare. Hare Krishna Hare Krishna, Krishna Krishna Hare Hare. Hare Rama Hare Rama, Rama Rama Hare Hare."

Parikshit listened, his heart full, but a question lingered. "Lord, you spoke about everyone in the Raas Leela. But Radha Rani was there too. Why didn't you mention her? Please tell me about her."

Acharyadev's eyes softened, his voice tender. "Radha Rani was not among the anxious friends, King. When Krishna disappeared, she went with him. In a quiet place, Radha and Krishna began their play, for a long time."

The tale unfolded further, painting a picture of Radha's devotion. "After that play, Radha became tired. She said to Krishna, 'I can't walk anymore, Madhav. I have no strength left. I am very tired.'"

Acharyadev's voice carried the gentle weight of ancient wisdom as he continued, "Don't worry, Radha. Come, I will carry you on my shoulders."

Radha's eyes sparkled with delight, her fatigue momentarily forgotten. "You will carry me, Madhav? Alright then," she agreed with a playful smile.

But as Radha joyfully moved to climb on Krishna's shoulders, Shyam Sundar, as Krishna was affectionately known, vanished into thin air. Radha's heart sank, and tears welled in her eyes. Alone now, she cried out, her voice echoing with sorrow. He had left her too.

The king, listening with rapt attention, couldn't help but interject, "But why, Acharyadev? Radha Rani is dearer to him than life itself."

Acharyadev nodded, understanding the king's confusion. "The Shrimad Bhagavatam tells us, even in the heart of that unique friend of Braj, pride had grown, King. Pride had grown. So, Shri Hari moved away from her too."

The king took a deep breath, his curiosity piqued. "Please forgive my boldness, Lord. If I am worthy of hearing your thoughts on this matter, please share them, Acharyadev."

The wise teacher's eyes twinkled as he spoke of the final dance of Vrindavan. "In this story, we reach the final dance of Vrindavan. The king, the moon, the stars, and everyone else stopped to watch this divine dance. Time seemed to stand still, and the night grew longer and longer. This dance, called the Raas, feels endless. It's the last magical act before Krishna leaves for Mathura, and Vrindavan will not see him again. So, when Krishna leaves the dance, it hints at his upcoming departure, even if the people of Vrindavan don’t know it yet."

After the long night of dancing, the gopis, the girls of Vrindavan, returned to their homes. Strangely, their families didn’t question them. Not a word was spoken about their absence.

"That's the magic of this divine play," explained the wise teacher. "Because of the magic, no one noticed the girls were gone. Their families thought they were home all along, so no one suspected anything."

The king leaned forward, intrigued. "You keep mentioning the last dance of Vrindavan, teacher. Does this mean that news of Krishna has reached Kansa? Who brought this news to Krishna?"

"Yes, King. Kansa has learned about Krishna. He knows everything now and is sending his most trusted servant to Vrindavan. Let me tell you about him, Parikshit."

Acharyadev's voice grew somber as he recounted, "The sage Narada went to Kansa and revealed Krishna and Balaram's true identities. Furious, Kansa imprisoned Devaki and Vasudeva again. Kansa sent a message to Vrindavan through Akrura. But before that, he secretly sent a terrible demon named Keshi to the land."

The king's eyes widened, anticipation building within him. "What will Krishna do next?" he wondered aloud.

Acharyadev smiled wisely, "We will continue this story in the next episode. You have been listening to the tales of Krishna, based on the ancient texts of the Bhagavata Purana and the Garg Samhita."

As the gentle strains of music began to play, the king sat back, his mind swirling with the magical stories of Krishna, eager for the next chapter to unfold.