Chapter 1: The Storm of Gokul

A cry pierced the air. "Help! Help!" someone shouted. "What a terrible storm! Help! Why can't I see anyone? Is anyone there? Can you hear me? Run, run! This is no ordinary storm. A monster is definitely coming in the form of this storm. Run, save yourselves! Run, run! Don't stand here. Don't stay here. Run away!"

A mother's voice rose above the chaos, filled with desperation. "Come back, Krishna! Krishna! Kanai! Kanai! Come back, my child! Where has my Kanai gone? Please, Your Majesty, find my son from wherever he is. Without Kanai, you will not be at peace."

The king tried to calm her, his voice steady. "Calm down, your Kanai will surely return. Call upon Lord Hari. He will surely protect us."

For two whole hours, the storm raged relentlessly over Gokul. The demon Trinavarta used all his strength, sweeping away cows, houses, and trees. The sky turned so dark that nothing could be seen. The villagers' vision blurred as Trinavarta soared into the sky with little Krishna in his arms, attempting to throw him down from above.

But something miraculous occurred. Trinavarta found himself struggling. "What’s happening?" he wondered aloud. "How can a little baby be so heavy?" Despite his limitless strength, the demon couldn't bear the weight of the child. Krishna's weight seemed to press down like a mountain, and Trinavarta's speed slowed as his strength waned.

"Why, Acharyadev, why couldn't he throw the child away?" the king asked, bewildered.

"Because the child was clinging tightly to his throat," explained the wise sage. "His little hands were squeezing Trinavarta's neck like a noose."

Trinavarta's airy voice cried out in desperation. "Let go, let go, I’m telling you to let go of my throat. If you don't, it won't be good for you. I'll throw you down from here. You don't listen, you must be a god. I can understand that now. Stop that child's laughter. Stop it! Let go, let go of me. Let go, it won't work. See what I do now."

With a terrible crash, Trinavarta fell from the sky, landing near Nanda's courtyard. The villagers rushed to the scene, their faces filled with alarm. "What happened? What happened? Why was there such a loud noise?" they cried. "There’s so much dust here, I can’t see anything. Someone, bring water! Pour it here. No, no, don’t go near it. It feels like..."

"It feels like there’s a monster hiding behind this dust," someone whispered. "Otherwise, such a huge whirlwind wouldn’t have formed. A monster! Oh my! Oh Lord Ram, please protect us!"

Amid the dust, Queen Yashoda's eyes widened in disbelief. "Oh Queen Yashoda, look!" a villager exclaimed. "There, inside the dust, that’s our little Neelmani playing! What a surprise! That naughty whirlwind took our Neelmani away. But even after falling from such a height, he’s playing! How is that possible?"

Yashoda pushed through the crowd, her heart pounding. "Where is my Krishna? Please, move aside! If you see my Kanai, tell me where he is. Look, there he is, lying in the whirlwind! Can you see him, Queen? Kanai, Kanai, Kanai! Where were you, dear? Wait, I’m coming to get you from that whirlwind."

As the dust began to settle, the villagers gasped. "Now all the dust is clearing away. Can’t you see? It was actually a terrible monster! What a huge figure it had! It took our Kanai away. But don’t be afraid, the monster is dead. It shattered into pieces when it fell. See, there’s nothing to fear now."

King Nanda's heart swelled with relief. "Your son wasn’t scared, Queen Yashoda," he said, his voice filled with awe. "Look, he’s swinging and laughing on the monster’s chest. Hold him, Queen. Take our boy in your arms. Go on, dear, go to your mother."

And with that, little Krishna was safe once more, nestled in his mother's embrace, his laughter echoing through the village, a sound of joy and triumph over the storm.

Chapter 2: The Aftermath and Reflection

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the village of Gokul. Inside their humble abode, Queen Yashoda cradled little Krishna, her heart a mixture of relief and lingering worry. The events of the day had left her shaken, and she couldn't help but express her fears.

"Queen Yashoda, don’t worry," a kind villager reassured her. "God has saved your little one. The monster couldn’t harm him. Were you hurt, dear?" she asked, gently brushing Krishna's cheek. "The boy came back from the jaws of death. Why does this keep happening to my child? What planet’s curse is upon this little one? I will perform a peace ritual for the planets tomorrow."

Another villager, an elderly woman with wise eyes, stepped forward. "Do whatever you want, Queen, but don’t just talk about curses. Remember the blessings of the gods too. Otherwise, how could the boy come back like this? The gods keep protecting your son, Queen."

Yashoda nodded slowly, her mind turning over the woman's words. "That’s true, I hadn’t thought of that. How are we so lucky that our Neelmani keeps coming back from the brink of death? What penance have we done for this?"

"Don’t you know that God helps those who are good, honest, and kind?" the elderly woman continued. "Where else would you find a noble soul like King Nanda? Whatever happens in his house will be good. We are proud of him. This Neelmani is our treasure too. Surely, he is the jewel of Gokul. Long live King Nanda, long live Neelmani!"

The crowd murmured in agreement, their voices a gentle chorus of admiration and pride. Yet, amidst the praises, a note of concern lingered in the air. A young man, his brow furrowed with worry, spoke up. "I see that one trouble after another keeps happening in Gokul. But it wasn’t like this before. What’s going on? Whose evil eye has fallen here?"

A wise sage, seated quietly in the corner, raised his voice. "Vasudev’s words are coming true. This is a great danger. Everyone connected to Lord Krishna’s pastimes has some history of rebirth. So, what’s the story of the demon Trinavarta, wise sage?"

The sage nodded knowingly. "He met his end at the hands of Lord Krishna. How did he get such a rare fate?"

"You’re right," the sage began, his voice steady and clear. "Trinavarta was truly fortunate. You see, Trinavarta had a past life. In his previous life, he was King Sahasraksha of the Pandu kingdom. He had unwavering devotion to Lord Hari. However, he was also very indulgent. He used to spend time with a thousand women by the Narmada River. One day, while he was enjoying himself, Sage Durvasa arrived."

The villagers leaned in closer, captivated by the sage's tale. "But the king was so absorbed in his pleasures that he didn’t even notice the sage. He didn’t greet him either. This made Sage Durvasa very angry. 'King Sahasraksha is so arrogant,' he thought. 'He didn’t even look at me.'"

The sage took a deep breath, his eyes scanning the attentive faces before him. "'I will curse you, King. For insulting me, you will be reborn as a demon.'"

The crowd gasped, and Yashoda tightened her grip on Krishna, who was now dozing peacefully in her arms.

"'Please forgive me, noble sage. Please forgive me. I have made a mistake. I will never commit such a sin again. Please forgive me,'" the sage continued, mimicking the king’s desperate plea.

"'My curse will not fail. You must become a demon. However, a devotee of Hari will save you, and you will die by the touch of Lord Krishna. Only then will you be free.'"

The villagers exchanged looks of wonder as the sage concluded, "That same King Sahasraksha was reborn as the demon Trinavarta. He attained liberation through Krishna’s touch. So you see, Parikshit, those who die in Krishna’s pastimes are all liberated. This is the greatness of God. He is an ocean of mercy who comes down to save all sinners and sufferers. Thousands are saved by his touch."

"I understand, Acharyadev," said a young scholar, nodding thoughtfully. "It's really hard to grasp the endless pastimes of Lord Krishna. How can people truly understand God? They are amazed by his divine acts, but then they forget everything, enchanted by illusion."

The sage smiled gently. "Yashoda has seen so many of Krishna’s pastimes. That miraculous child survives in such incredible ways. But does she remember? No, a mother’s heart is always worried about her child’s safety. To protect him from harm, Yashoda would put a black dot on his forehead. She tied black threads around his tiny blue feet. And there was no end to the rituals she performed to keep him safe."

"Did Nanda ever have any doubts, Acharyadev?" asked another villager, curiosity piqued.

"He did," replied the sage. "Especially after hearing Vasudeva’s words, he was restless. One danger after another was happening right before his eyes, and he couldn’t do anything. The little boy seemed to save himself in amazing ways. It’s not that Nanda wasn’t curious, but he was more focused on Krishna’s safety. He wanted to protect his son with all his heart. So whenever he heard something strange from Yashoda, he would secretly worry."

"What did Nanda hear from Yashoda? What happened after Trinavarta was saved? Please tell me about it, Acharyadev," the villager urged, eager for more.

The sage leaned back, a twinkle in his eye, ready to continue the tale as the villagers settled in to listen.

Chapter 3: The Miraculous Child

In every moment, little Krishna was always up to something, and Yashoda didn't mind these little happenings much. Her Lalla was very mischievous, and if she didn't keep a close eye on him, trouble was sure to follow. Even when she watched him, she couldn't relax; Yashoda was always on edge, her heart full of love and worry.

One morning, as the sun bathed the village in golden light, Yashoda was bustling around, trying to keep up with her daily chores. "Let me tell you about something that happened the other day," the sage began, his voice gentle and warm. "Parikshit, Yashomati, are you still at home?" he continued, mimicking the bustling chatter of the village women. "Aren't you going to fetch water today?"

Yashoda replied, her voice echoing with affection and mild exasperation, "I will, I will. It's already so late, and I haven't even fed my little boy yet."

From inside the house, a tiny wail could be heard. "Oh dear, he's hungry. He wants milk," Yashoda said, hurrying to soothe her son. "Don't cry, sweetheart, don't cry. I'm coming, I'm coming."

The other women nodded understandingly. "You all go ahead, I'll just feed Kanai quickly," Yashoda assured them. "Alright, alright, calm your little one first. We'll wait by the riverbank."

With a gentle lullaby, she cradled Krishna in her arms. "Wake up, wake up, my dear, it's time to eat," she cooed. "Here I am, come and eat. You can't be so naughty. Eat first, or I'll scold you." Krishna, with his big, curious eyes, began to drink, his tiny hands clutching at her sari.

"That's my good boy," Yashoda murmured as she watched him with love. "Is your tummy full, Kanai? Let me see your face." As she looked, Krishna yawned, a tiny, adorable yawn that made Yashoda smile. But then, her smile froze. "Oh my, he's yawning again, my dear Kanai, Kanai."

"What did I see?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "What happened, Rani? What happened to Kanai?"

Yashoda's voice was filled with wonder and a hint of fear as she recounted the sight. "Inside his little open mouth, I saw a vast blue sky. There were countless planets, stars, the moon, the sun, and many worlds with people, animals, and trees. What did I see inside his mouth, Raja? I've never seen anything like this before. Is this some new trouble?"

Her husband, Nanda, tried to comfort her. "No, no, why would it be trouble, Rani? This is no trouble. You must have seen it wrong."

But Yashoda shook her head, her eyes wide. "What are you saying, Maharaj? I saw it clearly with my own eyes. No, no, I didn't see it wrong. As long as Kanai was yawning, I saw it. Surely, some demon has come to sit in his mouth. Please, Raja, do something peaceful to ward off any harm."

Nanda, trying to calm her, said, "Alright, alright, it's okay, it's okay. Don't worry so much. Everything will be fine. Why don't you go and take a little walk with the other women? I'll take care of Kanai. Father and son will play now, have some fun, won't we, Kanai?"

As the villagers listened, the sage continued, "Isn't it amazing? So, even before my grandfather Arjuna, Mother Yashoda saw the Lord's universal form. Yes, Raja, you are right. But Arjuna understood it, while Mother Yashoda did not. A mother's heart is always anxious for her child's well-being. She thought it might be some new danger. She was overwhelmed with fear and worry."

"Alright, did Father Nanda not understand anything about Brahmarshi?" asked a curious villager.

"I told you before, King," the sage explained, "that all the events of Krishna's play are being orchestrated by Yogamaya herself. So, it's quite natural to forget things under her influence. You can't remember anything magical for long. Forgetting is inevitable. Nanda forgot and started raising his son in a very ordinary way."

Meanwhile, little Krishna and his brother Balarama, whom everyone in Gokul called "Ram," were growing up fast. The two brothers were inseparable. As time passed, they grew a bit older. When Yashoda's darling learned to crawl, Rohini's darling tried to stand up on wobbly legs. Both of them would pick up dirt and put it in their mouths, much to the mothers' dismay. Yashoda and Rohini would gasp in surprise, their days filled with laughter and exasperation at the endless mischief of their sons.

One day, as Yashoda was busy with chores, she heard a loud crash. "Kanhai, what did you do? What broke? What's that noise?" she exclaimed, rushing to the scene.

Rohini, her sister, was equally bewildered. "Oh my, what have you done? What will happen now? Did you see what happened, sister? What's going on, sister? So much shouting and fuss!"

Yashoda gestured to the mess. "What happened? And what's the matter? Just look, what should I do with this naughty boy now? I had washed the cow and kept the milk in that pot. I was just about to finish my work and take it. He knocked the pot so hard that it broke, and the milk spilled everywhere. Now tell me, how will I make butter?"

The two mothers looked at each other, half frustrated, half amused. Their days were full of such surprises, but their hearts were full of love for their little mischief-makers.

Chapter 4: The Mischief and the Mortar

The warm afternoon sun bathed the small village of Gokul in a golden glow, as the two mothers exchanged knowing glances. Yashoda sighed, a blend of exasperation and deep affection in her voice. "Oh, it's nothing," she said, trying to brush off the incident. "Little boys do things like that sometimes. Your Kanhai didn't do it on purpose, did he?"

Her friend shook her head with a wry smile. "Leave it, sister. Don't spoil him anymore. Your spoiling has made Kanhai very naughty. This time, I'll spank him."

Yashoda's eyes widened in mock horror. "Just watch, you naughty boy, what will I do to you, Yashoda? What will you do? Will you hit that little child? Are you out of your mind?"

Her friend chuckled, remembering her own son's mischief. "What else can I do? Little Suchandra spilled the butter just like this. Do you know how much loss that caused? You hit him yesterday too. What happened then? The boy cried so much, and you cried even more. Then you struggled to calm him down. That boy never forgets. Leave it, Yashoda, don't hit him."

Yashoda nodded, thinking of her tender-hearted Kanhai. "Oh, Kanhai's skin is so delicate. My dear is like cotton. You're right, sister. Even a little pressure leaves marks on his skin. His palms and soles turn bright red. I've never seen such a child in all of Gokul, sister. Why is mine like this?"

Her friend smiled warmly. "That's actually a good thing for you, sister. You can dress Kanhai up however you like. Doesn't he look so cute and beautiful? When you put anklets on his feet, if his feet weren't so soft, they wouldn't fit. And when his little hair bun shakes as he moves his head, doesn't Kanhai look wonderful?"

Yashoda's face lit up with pride. "You’re right, sister. I get more joy from dressing up Kanhai than dressing up myself. After dressing him, I keep turning him around to admire him. You know, a mother's gaze is very intense. I put a black dot on him to protect him from my own gaze, sister. And yet, you were about to hit him! Listen, don't lay a finger on him. He is my precious jewel, my one and only Kanhai."

Nearby, little Kanhai, with mischief still twinkling in his eyes, tugged at his mother's sari. "No, no, Dad. I’ve already scolded Mom. She won’t hit you anymore. Now we’re going to have milk and yogurt, right? We will, won’t we? Come on, come on."

Yashoda and her friend laughed, their hearts melting at his charming antics. "This little one is so charming, Diti," Yashoda said softly. "He was born with so much love that it’s a bit scary. Can we really keep him like this? God, please protect us and let nothing spoil this happiness."

Meanwhile, Brother Balram, calm and content, never caused such a stir. He ate what he was given and was satisfied. Rohini, his mother, felt relaxed about her son. But Yashoda always found herself amidst Krishna’s endless mischief. Each day brought a new tale of his antics.

Even Harapari, a neighbor, came bustling over. "Oh Yashoda, are you home? Come, come, listen to what your dear boy has done. Where is that boy? If I get my hands on him, I’ll show him what’s what. Oh my, he’s not just a boy, he’s a little bandit!"

"Bandit, you say!" Yashoda laughed, waving her inside. "Come inside, come on. Yashoda, haven’t your relatives come over? We’re here to tell you about your little one’s antics. He’s left us with no dignity. How can such a small boy be so naughty? Don’t you have any rope at home to tie him up? Then maybe we could have some peace."

Yashoda raised an eyebrow, curious. "Why are you all complaining about Kanai? What has he done?"

The group of neighbors erupted in exasperated chatter. "What has he done? You’re asking what he hasn’t done! Before we could milk the cows, he let all the calves loose. We couldn’t get any milk today. What will we take to the market tomorrow? Oh dear, are you shocked already, Yashoda? Listen to this: he went to our house, found the hidden butter pots, and fed the butter to all the monkeys and apes in Gokul. Can you believe it?"

"Really, Yashoda! He leaves a mess of milk, yogurt, and butter everywhere. He’s gathered all the kids his age and made himself their leader. They go from house to house causing trouble. It’s becoming unbearable!"

Yashoda shook her head, disbelief mingling with amusement. "No, I can’t believe everything you’re saying. Yes, Kanai is a bit naughty, but he does it at home. He doesn’t harm others. My son isn’t like that. You must be mistaken."

One neighbor waved a finger, determined. "Mistaken? We saw it with our own eyes, and you’re saying we’re wrong? Are you saying we came all the way here to lie to you?"

Yashoda sighed, glancing at her son, who was now playing innocently with a stick. Her heart told her one thing, but the stories told another. As the sun dipped lower, casting long shadows, she knew that life with Krishna would always be a blend of chaos and unparalleled joy.

Chapter 5: The Unbreakable Bond

The gathering of neighbors stood in Yashoda's courtyard, their voices a mix of frustration and concern. "No, no, why would it be a lie?" one woman exclaimed, her hands gesturing wildly. "But why do you hide the pots of yogurt and butter? He's just a little boy. He can't reach that high."

Another neighbor chimed in, nodding vigorously. "Do you think he hasn't figured it out? Can anyone stop your son? He gathers his friends, and they climb on each other's backs. One on top of another, they become as tall as a big tower."

The image was vivid in Yashoda's mind. Her little Krishna, at the top of the human tower, reaching up with a stick to break the pot and eat the butter. "Do you understand? Do you know?" they insisted.

Yashoda's heart ached with disbelief. "If he doesn't get butter," continued the neighbor, "he gets so angry that he messes up the whole room. Not a single room is safe from your son's mischief, Yashoda. If our milk and yogurt are spoiled, how will we survive? How will we feed our children? How will we earn money?"

The concerns were real, and Yashoda knew she had to address them. "His naughtiness is increasing day by day," the neighbor added, her voice softening. "You need to stop your Kanai, Yashoda. I'm telling you nicely."

Yashoda shook her head, her voice firm yet tinged with worry. "Are you serious? My Kanai, doing such things? Well, call him then. Let him tell the truth himself. Is he here, or has he gone to someone else's house to steal butter again?"

She turned and called out, "Kanai, Kanai, come out quickly, I'm calling you."

From behind a corner, Krishna appeared, his eyes wide and innocent. "Mom, did you call me? Here I am, Kanai. What have they come to say?" he asked, playing with the hem of his tunic.

Yashoda knelt down to his level, her eyes searching his face. "Did you really go to their house and mess up all their milk, yogurt, and butter? Did you steal from their house? Did you ruin their things?"

Krishna shook his head vehemently, his curls bouncing. "Oh no! Why, oh why, you unfortunate child? Don't I give you enough to eat?" Yashoda's voice was a mix of exasperation and tenderness.

"They're telling lies, Mom. I didn't do any of this. Please believe me," Krishna pleaded, his eyes glistening with sincerity.

One of the neighbors, Kamalan Madani, folded her arms, her face stern. "What did you say? Oh my, what kind of child is this! He turns day into night right before our eyes."

Another neighbor piped up, "Who's calling me a liar? So, you didn't go to their house? You didn't break the butter pot?"

Krishna looked up at his mother, his expression earnest. "When would I go, Mom? I'm with you all day. In the evening, I just go to play by the Yamuna river, nowhere else, Mom."

Yashoda's eyes narrowed as she noticed the telltale signs. "But your hands still have butter on them, and your feet are covered in dust. You've just been running around Gokul, and now you're saying this."

The neighbors nodded in agreement. "Yashoda, look, he's been caught red-handed. Look, Kanai, you're lying to the elders. Did I teach you this?"

Yashoda's voice turned firm. "Come, I won't give you anything to eat today. You've embarrassed me. Today, I'll tie you up. Come here, you naughty boy."

Krishna's eyes widened in alarm. "Come, I didn't do anything, Mom. Please listen, I didn't do anything. Let me go, Mom."

But Yashoda was determined. "Come on, I won't let you go today."

As Krishna darted away, Yashoda chased after him, a stick in her hand, ready to enforce discipline. Krishna glanced back, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and mischief, his small feet kicking up dust as he ran.

Yashoda, though determined, found herself tiring quickly. Her garland slipped from her neck, and sweat beaded on her brow. Krishna was small and swift, his laughter echoing as he eluded her grasp.

Yet, as if by some divine intervention, Krishna paused just long enough for Yashoda to catch up. Exhausted but resolute, she reached for him. It was as if the universe conspired to bring her close to her son, knowing she could not bear to see him in distress.

And so, caught in her embrace, Krishna looked up with wide, innocent eyes. "Yes, King, I understand now, wise sage," a voice narrated from beyond, as if telling the story to someone afar. "I finally understand what true devotion is."

The sage's voice continued, gentle and wise. "So, Acharyadev, what did Mother Yashoda do after catching Lord Krishna? Did she hit him with the stick?"

"No, King," came the sage's reply. "She didn't hit him. The boy looked so scared that Yashoda's heart melted. She dropped the stick. Oh dear, hitting him with the stick would hurt him a lot. But she had to punish him somehow. Otherwise, she couldn't face the other women in the village."

Yashoda's eyes softened as she looked at her son. She knew she had to teach him a lesson, but not through harshness. Instead, she glanced around and spotted the mortar where she ground grain. With a sigh, she began to tie Kanai to the mortar, her heart heavy yet full of love.

Chapter 6: The Decision to Move

Yashoda looked at little Krishna, her heart a mix of love and exasperation. "You'll stay here," she said firmly, as she tied him to the mortar. "This is your punishment until you stop being naughty." She tugged at the rope, but it was too short. "Wait, I'll get more rope," she muttered, determined to succeed.

As she returned with more rope, a neighbor watching the scene chuckled softly. "Oh, Queen Yashoda," the woman said, shaking her head, "there's no point in trying. You brought such a big rope to tie that little boy, yet it's still two fingers short. You can't tie him."

Yashoda frowned. "What do you mean I can't?" she huffed, her resolve unwavering. "If needed, I'll bring all the ropes from the village."

But no matter how many ropes Yashoda joined together, they were always two fingers short. It was as if the universe itself conspired to keep Krishna untied. Frustrated and amazed, Yashoda stopped and looked at her son. At that moment, she realized that Krishna was bound not by rope, but by her love. "There, it's done," she said finally, stepping back. "Now, stay here. Let's see how you cause trouble now."

Krishna looked up at her with innocent eyes. "Oh, Mother, I won't be naughty anymore. Please untie me. It hurts."

Yashoda shook her head, her heart aching despite her stern words. "Let it hurt. I won't have peace unless I keep you tied up. Now you'll see what happens when you're naughty." With that, she turned and walked away, leaving Krishna alone.

As soon as she was gone, Krishna's demeanor changed. He became quiet and curious, his eyes darting around. His gaze fell on two tall Arjuna trees standing side by side. A mischievous thought crossed his mind. He pulled the mortar along and headed towards the trees.

The gap between the trees was narrow, and the mortar got stuck as Krishna passed through. With a mighty tug, Krishna pulled harder, and to everyone's amazement, the huge Arjuna trees toppled over with a thunderous crash. Branches, leaves, and roots sprawled across the ground.

From inside the fallen trees, two divine figures emerged, their forms glowing with ethereal light. They bowed low before the young Krishna, gratitude and reverence shining in their eyes.

Nearby, a boy who had been watching asked, "Who were these two men, teacher? Why were they turned into trees?"

The teacher, an old and wise sage, nodded knowingly. "These two men were Nalakuvara and Manigriva, the sons of Kubera. They were cursed by the sage Narada, which led to their condition. Lord Krishna himself rescued them."

The boy's eyes widened with curiosity. "What wrong did they do, wise sage?"

"They were proud," the sage explained. "Because of their beauty and connections, they respected no one. After all, their father was Kubera, and they were followers of Lord Rudra. In their pride, they thought of themselves as equals to Lord Vishnu. One day, when Narada saw them drunk and arrogant, he was very displeased. He scolded them, saying that divine qualities are expected in the children of gods. Otherwise, they have no place in the divine realm. He cursed them to be born as trees, unable to move or speak, for purification."

The boy listened intently. "We have sinned, divine sage," he imagined the two brothers pleading. "Please don't give us such a harsh punishment. Forgive us, Lord. We will do whatever you say, but please take back this curse. Have mercy on us."

The sage shook his head. "No, Manigriva, my curse will come true. You will not escape it. You must face the punishment."

"Is there no way to be saved, Lord?" the boy asked, echoing the brothers' despair.

"There is," the sage replied. "You will remain as trees for 100 years. However, with my blessing, you will retain your memories. After a century, you will be freed by the touch of Lord Vasudeva."

After cursing Nalakuvara and Manigriva, sage Narada went to meditate in the ashram of Nar-Narayana. Meanwhile, Kubera's two sons became twin Arjuna trees in Gokul.

"They were born together, so the people of Gokul called them 'Yamal-Arjuna,'" the sage continued. "Now you understand why the trees fell, King."

"Yes, wise sage, I understand," the boy replied, imagining himself as the King listening to the tale. "Lord Krishna himself came to grant them liberation. What could be more desirable in life, teacher? One must either feel remorse for their actions or be noticed by a great soul for redemption to be possible. Truly, sage, the curses and blessings of great souls are equally auspicious."

The sage nodded, a smile playing on his lips. "So, what was happening in Gokul at that time, teacher?" the boy asked eagerly. "Please tell me."

The sage's eyes twinkled as he spoke. "The two divine figures, in the form of trees, bowed to the child Krishna and gained liberation. Meanwhile, hearing the terrible noise of the huge trees crashing down, King Nanda rushed over, followed by the people of Gokul."

Chapter 7: The Move to Vrindavan

The air was filled with tension and curiosity as the villagers of Gokul gathered around King Nanda. Voices rose above the murmurs, each filled with concern and disbelief.

"What happened? What was that loud noise? Is everything alright, King?" a villager called out, his voice echoing the worry of the crowd.

King Nanda pointed towards the fallen trees. "Look there. Those twin Arjuna trees have completely fallen to the ground. That's why there was such a loud noise."

Another villager shook his head in disbelief. "Who pulled up those two trees? It's not easy to uproot such old and huge trees. Did some giant come here?"

"Maybe, Your Majesty," another suggested. "Otherwise, who else could do this?"

King Nanda shook his head. "No, no giant came. Look over there, see how Kanai is tied to the mortar. While dragging the mortar, he pulled up those trees."

A gasp went through the crowd. "What are you saying? Is that even possible?" someone exclaimed.

"Yes," a villager affirmed, eyes wide with wonder. "I saw it with my own eyes. Two huge men came out of the trees. They looked so beautiful, you know? They fell in front of Kanai and then disappeared somewhere."

Another villager scoffed. "Your Majesty, don't believe these stories. Kids often imagine things. This must be the work of some evil spirit. Gokul never had such troubles before."

"You're right," a worried voice agreed. "Gokul is becoming a dangerous place. Your Majesty, please think of a solution for everyone's safety."

King Nanda nodded, deep in thought. He approached little Kanai, who was still tied to the mortar. "Hmm, I see. Come here, Kanai, who tied you up like this? Was it your mother? Come, let me untie you."

Kanai looked up with innocent eyes. "Look, Father. Mother punished me for no reason. I didn't do anything, really."

King Nanda smiled gently. "No, son, don't say that. If you did nothing, why would your mother tie you up? She wouldn't do it without a reason. You must have done something. Be good from now on."

Despite the reassurances, fear lingered in Gokul. The villagers whispered about the strange events—the troubles with Putana, Trinavarta, and Sakatasura—and now, the fall of the Yamalarjuna trees. Anxiety spread like wildfire.

Among the people of Braj was an elderly man named Upananda, known for his wisdom and foresight. In times of trouble, King Nanda always sought his counsel. The men of Gokul gathered around him, seeking guidance.

Upananda spoke with calm authority. "You are right. I understand the danger in Gokul. Especially..."

He paused, looking around at the worried faces. "Nanda's son keeps escaping danger. Lord Hari is protecting him. But how long can this go on? No, staying here isn't right. But where will we go with all our cattle and belongings? Is there a place big enough for us?"

Upananda nodded, his eyes bright with a plan. "I've thought about that too, Your Majesty. And I've found such a place. The grass, soil, water, air, hills, and mountains there are all beautiful. It's a green paradise. Our cattle will be happy there, and we will also live well in such a lovely environment."

King Nanda's eyes widened with hope. "Really? Is there such a place? Where is it? Tell me."

"It's not far from Gokul," Upananda replied, a smile on his lips. "Just along the banks of the Yamuna. The place is called Vrindavan. If everyone agrees, moving there would be a wise decision."

The crowd erupted in agreement. "Yes, we will go there. We will go. No more delays. As soon as possible."

King Nanda raised his hand to calm the excited villagers. "What does King Nanda say? Everyone agrees with me. We will go to Vrindavan. Let's make arrangements for the journey today."

The villagers nodded, determination in their eyes. "Good, good. Okay, let's send the cows and calves ahead. We will follow them. You all make the arrangements."

"Don't worry, King," assured one of the villagers. "We have made all the arrangements."

"Then we will set off, chanting 'Hari Hari.' Let's go, friends, let's go. There is a lot to do now. We have to prepare for the journey to Vrindavan. Not a moment to waste here."

"Yes, let's go, friends. Now we go to Vrindavan," the villagers echoed with enthusiasm.

With that, the people and animals of Gokul set out together on the path to Vrindavan. The beauty of the place amazed everyone, and they spent their days safely. But, unfortunately, on the banks of the Yamuna, a giant crane swallowed little Krishna with its huge open mouth. Its name was Bakasura. What happened next will be told in the upcoming chapter.

Chapter 8: The Tale of Krishna

As the sun cast its golden glow upon the fields of Vrindavan, the villagers of Gokul found themselves in awe of their new home. The lush greenery and the gentle flow of the Yamuna River provided a serene backdrop to their lives. Yet, amidst this tranquility, danger lurked, waiting for an opportune moment to strike.

One day, as the children played by the riverbank, a shadow fell over them. It was Bakasura, a monstrous crane with eyes that glinted with malice. Its massive wings stretched wide, casting a dark shadow over the land. Without warning, it swooped down, and with a swift motion, swallowed little Krishna whole.

Gasps of horror escaped the lips of the onlookers. "Krishna!" they cried, their voices filled with fear and disbelief. The villagers watched helplessly as Bakasura stood triumphantly, its beak closed around the divine child.

But inside the belly of the beast, Krishna was calm and unafraid. With a divine strength that belied his small form, he began to expand, filling the creature's throat. Bakasura, realizing his mistake, struggled and writhed, but it was too late. The enormous bird was powerless against the might of Krishna.

Suddenly, with a mighty force, Krishna burst forth from Bakasura's mouth, unscathed and smiling, his eyes twinkling with mischief. The villagers erupted in cheers, their relief and joy echoing across the fields.

"Krishna, you are safe!" Yashoda cried, rushing forward to embrace her son, tears of joy streaming down her face.

Nanda, standing beside her, shook his head in wonder. "Our Krishna is truly miraculous," he said, his voice filled with pride and gratitude.

As the villagers gathered around, celebrating the miraculous escape, Krishna simply laughed, his laughter like the tinkling of bells. He had triumphed over yet another peril, and with him safe, the people of Vrindavan felt their hearts swell with love and reverence.