Chapter 1: The Arrival of Putana

In a distant chamber, a wise sage was engaged in a conversation with a curious king. "I have a question, wise sage," the king began, his voice filled with curiosity. "What was the relationship between Nanda and Vasudeva like?"

The sage nodded, a gentle smile on his lips. "They were as close as brothers. They cared for each other's well-being."

The king leaned forward, intrigued. "Is there a specific reason for asking this?"

"Yes, Acharyadev," the king replied. "Upon hearing Vasudeva, Nanda quickly left Mathura. Such respect makes this behavior possible."

"You are right, King," the sage agreed. "Nanda truly respected Vasudeva. Because of Vasudeva's calm nature and wisdom, he had a sharp foresight. He could predict what might happen. It's hard not to admire such a person."

The king nodded thoughtfully. "I understand now, wise sage. Vasudeva was like a wise sage himself."

"You are right, King," the sage said, "he was indeed sage-like. He had no desire for the throne or kingdom. He never wanted to sit on the throne. After his father Surasena's death, Ugrasena took the throne of Mathura. The people wanted Vasudeva, Surasena's first son, to be king. But he loved farming more than the throne. So, Vasudeva never became king. Despite being a prince, he lived humbly with the earth. He had no greed. It is to such a person that God would choose to be born."

The king's eyes widened in realization. "Now I understand, wise sage. Vasudeva was worthy of being God's father. Nanda was just as simple and selfless. That is why the Lord first called him father."

The sage nodded, his eyes twinkling with wisdom. "Nanda left Mathura. Then what happened, Lord? Was there really any danger in Gokul?"

Knowing that King Nanda was not in Gokul, Kansa's conspiracy began. He summoned Putana, his most trusted companion. "Who is Putana, wise sage?" the king asked, curiosity piqued.

"Putana was actually a demoness," the sage explained. "She was Kansa's most trusted companion. Tasks that spies couldn't accomplish were given to Putana by Kansa."

"Why did Kansa trust Putana so much, Acharyadev?" the king inquired.

"Because Putana knew magic, King," the sage replied. "She could change her appearance. It's not easy for a spy to know this skill. That's why Kansa called for Putana whenever there was a secret task. He did the same this time."

In a secret chamber away from the palace, Putana approached Kansa. "Greetings, King. You called for me."

Kansa gestured for her to come closer. "Come, Bodna, come. I need you for a special task. You have to do something secret."

Putana nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. "I know, King. Otherwise, why would you call me to such a secret chamber away from the palace? What do I need to do? Command me, King."

Kansa leaned forward, his voice a low whisper. "Go to Gokul, Putana. Look for newborn babies. Catch each one and finish them off. Be careful, make sure none survive. You can be assured."

Putana nodded confidently. "No one has escaped from the king’s hand. This time will be no different. The task is very secret. Not even a crow should know about it. Otherwise, everyone will become cautious. Putana, you must be so clever that no one suspects you."

"Yes, Your Majesty, it will be done. No one will suspect or catch me," Putana assured him.

With Kansa's orders echoing in her mind, Putana arrived in Gokul through the sky. She came disguised as a very beautiful young woman. She wore expensive clothes and earrings, her hair tied with a lovely ribbon. The scent of sandalwood wafted from her body, and her beauty shone in the sunlight. She held a lotus in one hand and had a charming smile on her face.

As she landed in Gokul, the women there were amazed to see her. "How beautiful she is! I have never seen such a lovely girl before," one of them exclaimed.

"You’re right. I feel like Goddess Lakshmi herself has come down," another agreed. "Who are you? Where do you live? I’ve never seen you in Gokul before."

Putana smiled sweetly, her voice as smooth as honey. "Me? I’m just a woman like you. I make butter and cheese. And I love to cuddle little ones. I have a great bond with them. Don’t you have little babies here in Gokul? Please, take me to them."

One of the women hesitated, concern in her eyes. "But what if our babies start crying when they see you?"

Putana laughed softly, her eyes twinkling with feigned innocence. "Oh, don't worry about that. Babies usually love me."

The women exchanged glances, unsure but charmed by the stranger's beauty and gentle demeanor. Little did they know of the dark intentions hidden behind her captivating smile.

Chapter 2: The Demoness in Gokul

The women of Gokul, still wary, listened to Putana's insistence. "Let them cry," Putana urged, her voice as sweet as honey. "Just take me to them once. You’ll see, your babies won’t even recognize you. They’ll only look for me."

One of the mothers, feeling reassured by the stranger's gentle demeanor, nodded. "Really? Well, alright. Go ahead. There are no thieves or robbers here in Gokul. Everyone feels safe. No one locks their doors. Go on, look around and meet your little friends," she said, gesturing towards the village.

As the women returned to their chores, trusting in the safety of their peaceful village, Putana began her sinister search. She peeked into each house she passed. In some, mothers had left their babies in cradles to go milk cows. In others, babies were being lulled to sleep before the yogurt-making began. Just as the women had said, no doors were locked; no one felt fear in this serene place.

Putana saw this as her golden opportunity. While the mothers were preoccupied, she stealthily took the babies, one by one. But she didn't harm them in the way one might expect. There were no screams, no cries for help. Instead, she used a method both cunning and cruel. She had smeared deadly poison on her chest. Picking up the unsuspecting infants, she carried them to a quiet spot and fed them her poisoned milk. The effect was immediate and silent. The babies turned blue and died without a sound, leaving the mothers blissfully unaware as they continued their work.

In the deep forest of Gokul, the lifeless bodies of many children lay scattered, victims of Putana's wickedness. Yet, the demoness herself remained oblivious to the true reason for her mission. She was simply following orders, unaware of the divine child she was truly seeking.

As she wandered through Gokul, Putana overheard whispers of a special child. A prince was born in the house of King Nanda of Braj, a child whose beauty and charm enchanted the entire village. Men and women alike sang his praises, and Putana was intrigued. She had never heard of such a child before and wondered if this was the one King Kansa sought to destroy.

With renewed purpose, Putana made her way to King Nanda's house, her heart filled with dark intentions. The paths of Braj led her to a place that seemed to welcome her with open arms. "If I can kill this boy," she thought, "my task will be complete." She chuckled to herself, marveling at the simplicity and trust of the villagers. "Look, even the door here is open," she laughed softly, stepping inside without a second thought.

Inside, the house was quiet. Yashoda, Krishna's mother, was nowhere to be seen. Putana's ears picked up the soft cooing of a baby from a nearby cradle. This was her moment. As she approached, she saw him—baby Krishna, a charming, dark-skinned infant lying peacefully.

For a brief moment, Putana was captivated by the child's beauty. She had never seen such a radiant baby. But as she loomed over him, baby Krishna closed his eyes. "Why?" a wise sage might ponder. Perhaps Lord Hari, in his playful disguise, pretended to be afraid of Putana. Or maybe, his divine gaze was too pure to witness sin without consequence. If Putana were to turn to ashes at that moment, how would the story unfold?

Gathering herself, Putana picked up baby Krishna. The house was empty, and time was of the essence. She began to feed him her poisoned milk. But as she did, Krishna, with a strength that belied his small size, grabbed Putana's breast with both hands. He sucked the milk with great force, and as he did, the poison began to spread through Putana's own body. She screamed in agony, her cries echoing through the village, as the music of fate played on.

Chapter 3: The Demon's Fall

As the sun began to set over the village of Gokul, an eerie silence fell. The air seemed to hold its breath in anticipation of something monumental. Within the humble homes, the villagers went about their evening routines, unaware of the chaos that was about to unravel.

Putana, the demoness, had attempted to poison baby Krishna with her deadly milk, but the gods were not to be trifled with. Their anger was immense, and in their fury, they began to drain the life force out of Putana herself. Desperately, she tried to fight back, but the poison she intended for Krishna spread through her own body instead. Her once enchanting beauty withered away, leaving behind a monstrous form.

Clutching onto baby Krishna, she tried to push him away, but her efforts were in vain. With a piercing scream that echoed through the village, she burst out of the house and ran into the open, hoping to rid herself of the child. Her cries were so loud that they drew the attention of everyone in Gokul.

Yashoda and Rohini, hearing the terrifying screams, rushed outside. They were soon joined by other women from the village, their faces pale with shock and fear. Before them lay the giant, terrifying form of Putana, sprawled across the ground, her body covering nearly six miles of land. The destruction was immense—trees lay broken and the ground was scarred by her fall. The sky above Gokul turned a foreboding shade of gray, as if mourning the chaos below.

Amidst this scene of devastation, little Krishna lay calmly on Putana's chest, unbothered by the chaos around him. The women were amazed to hear the demoness, in her final moments, plead, "Let me go, let me go!" Her cries slowly faded, and with one last shudder, her life left her body.

Queen Yashoda, regaining her senses, dashed towards her son, her heart pounding in fear. "Kanai, Kanai, Kanai!" she cried, her voice trembling.

Rohini tried to soothe her. "Yashoda, calm down. Look, there's Kanai. See, nothing happened to him. Calm down, Yashoda."

Yashoda's voice was filled with desperation. "How can I be calm, sister? That demoness almost destroyed my child."

Rohini gently reassured her, "Not destroyed, Yashoda. Kanai is fine. Look, he's still playing happily. Come, Yashoda, let's take Kanai home. The demoness is dead, there's nothing to fear anymore."

As the news of the demoness Putana's demise spread, cries of despair echoed through Gokul. Mothers rushed to their homes, frantic with worry. "Where is my child? Has anyone seen my Subal? Why can't I see my Subal?" they cried, their voices filled with panic and sorrow. "Oh, someone please check if my child is lying among the others. That demoness took my child. My child is gone because of her poison. What will I do now?"

Such lamentation had never been heard in Gokul before. The villagers whispered to each other, "Whose curse caused this, sister? Which god is angry with us?"

"I don't know, sister. I can't understand whose sin led to this. Maharaj Nanda will surely find a solution when he returns."

Yashoda, still worried, said, "No, I'm very worried about Kanai, sister. That terrible poison went into his stomach too. What will happen? I'm so scared."

Rohini continued to comfort her, "Nothing happened to Kanai, Yashoda. He's fine and healthy. Look, he's playing happily. Don't worry, sister. Come inside, come inside."

Putana's deadly disguise had caused the death of many children in Braj, but nothing happened to baby Krishna. Yet, Mother Yashoda, in her heart, couldn't quite grasp the extraordinary nature of her son. Was it divine magic? A mother's heart always worries, and in Gokul, love and care filled the air. Here, even God was bound by love.

As the tales of Hari unfolded, they brought a sense of calm and sweetness to all who listened. King Nanda, upon his return, was determined to uncover the mystery of Putana. He had been wary of misfortune ever since hearing from Vasudeva.

As he arrived in Braj with the cowherds of Gokul, he was greeted by the tragic scene. His companions, surprised, remarked, "Didn't Vasudeva warn us? Indeed, Vasudeva seems to be becoming more like a sage every day. How did Vasudeva know, King? How did he foresee this disaster?"

King Nanda, pondering his friend's wisdom, replied, "Yes, Vasudeva is becoming a sage. He is a great man with divine insight. His words always come true. But how did this demoness come here, King? Why did she come? Such trouble had never occurred in Gokul before. Who wants to harm the children of Gokul, King? Who could be so cruel?"

In the heart of Gokul, amidst the love and care, the villagers sought answers to the mysteries that surrounded them, their faith in the goodness of their world shaken but not broken.

Chapter 4: The Sacred Fragrance

In the heart of Gokul, the air was thick with concern as the villagers gathered to discuss the mysterious events that had befallen their peaceful land. The elders, known for their wisdom and insight, huddled together, their expressions grave.

"That's what I'm wondering," one elder said, his voice laden with worry. "Is this really someone's conspiracy? If so, then more dangers await Gokul. It doesn't seem like this conspiracy will end with just one demon."

The villagers nodded in agreement, their eyes reflecting the flickering light of the fire. The people of Braj had already dealt with the aftermath of the demoness Putana's attack. Her enormous body had been cut into pieces with axes, and the pieces were taken far from the main land of Gokul to be burned on a wooden pyre. As the flames consumed her remains, something extraordinary happened.

"Do you know what's amazing, King?" a villager asked, turning to the wise sage who sat nearby. "A sacred fragrance like incense started coming from that fire. Where is this scent coming from? There's no worship happening here. The smell is coming from the demoness's pyre. Isn't it astonishing?"

The sage nodded thoughtfully. "How is this possible?" he mused aloud. "How did this happen, wise sage? Why did the pyre of the sinful demoness Putana release the fragrance of incense?"

The sage's eyes twinkled with a deeper understanding. "Putana's death was different from others, King. God didn't curse her; He saved her. That's why such a sacred scent came from her pyre. Putana was redeemed."

"Why, Acharyadev? How did Putana get so lucky?" another villager asked, leaning in closer to hear the sage's response.

The sage began to recount an old tale. "Let me tell you again about King Bali, Parikshit. Lord Hari crushed King Bali's pride. He came to the sacrifice as the Vamana avatar. At the time of bidding farewell to the Brahmins, Narayan asked Bali for just three steps of land. Arrogant Bali carelessly gave away that land. Then, with one step, the Lord took over the heavens and with the other, the earth. But where would he place his third step?"

The villagers listened intently, captivated by the story. "That's when Bali realized his mistake. Recognizing Lord Hari, he bowed down and offered his own head. The Lord placed his foot on Bali's head. With the weight of his foot, King Bali descended to the underworld."

A murmur of understanding rippled through the crowd. "King Bali had a daughter named Ratnamala," the sage continued. "Was she present at that sacrifice, Lord? The divine form of the Vamana avatar, like a wonderful young boy, and his pure smile awakened a motherly affection in Ratnamala. She thought to herself, 'What a beautiful child this is. His face and eyes have such a strange charm. Oh, whose child is this? His face is all dried up from the sun's heat. I feel like holding him gently and feeding him...'"

The villagers exchanged glances, the story unfolding like a tapestry before them. "'I wish he were my son,' she thought. 'You wish to feed me as your child, Ratnamala. So be it, I will fulfill this wish of yours.'"

The sage paused for a moment, letting the words sink in. "King Bali's daughter, that same Ratnamala, was reborn as Putana in the Dvapara Yuga, Parikshit. Despite her demonic nature, she loved Lord Hari with the affection of a mother, and because of this, Lord Krishna washed away all her impurities. By pretending to drink her milk, he took away her sins and purified her. Thus, Putana attained liberation. That's why such a holy fragrance came from her funeral pyre."

A sense of peace settled over the gathering as the sage concluded, "Truly, Lord Hari's divine play grants fearlessness. Even sinners and the impure have the right to earn merit. They too can attain liberation. Lord Krishna himself breaks their bonds of worldly attachment."

Hearing about Putana's liberation filled the villagers' hearts with joy. One of them spoke up, his voice filled with newfound hope. "Hearing this fills my heart with joy, Lord. I too can be fearless in the name of Lord Hari."

"This is the greatness of Hari's name, King," the sage replied, his voice gentle yet firm. "He himself removes dangers. That's why he is called Hari. He takes away the sins, sorrows, and pains of those who seek refuge in him. Putana is proof of that."

A silence fell over the group, the story of redemption leaving them in awe. "So, what happened in Gokul after Putana's rescue?" a curious villager asked. "Weren't the cowherd women afraid after witnessing such a miraculous event with baby Krishna?"

The sage shook his head with a knowing smile. "King, you call it miraculous, but Gokul didn't think so. The cowherd women of Gokul became anxious about Krishna's safety. Yashoda and Rohini rushed over and took the baby down from the chest of the terrifying dead demoness. Their whole bodies were trembling with fear."

He continued, painting a vivid picture of the scene. "They laid the baby on a cloth spread on the porch. They began chanting protective mantras while brushing the baby with a cow's tail. They bathed the baby in cow dung water, marked his forehead with a tilak, and touched his head with dust from a cow's hoof. Then, Mother Yashoda began to chant the Lord's name."

The villagers listened, their hearts warmed by the devotion and love that enveloped their beloved Krishna, the divine child who had brought them together in faith and hope.

Chapter 5: The Cart's Strange Fall

As the village gathered around, their voices rose in a chorus of prayers, each word a plea for the divine protection of their cherished Krishna.

"God, please protect your two feet," they chanted in unison. "Protect the strong man's two thighs. Guard the heart. May Keshav protect your two arms. Vishnu, the supreme soul, protect your soul and life. May Narayan be in front of you. May the discus-wielding, mace-bearing Lord Hari be behind you. Let them protect you from all sides. Oh God, protect Yashoda's darling. Keep him safe. Hail Vishnu, hail Vishnu, hail Vishnu."

King Nanda, standing amidst the devoted villagers, stepped forward to bless his son's head. "With the blessings of parents, Krishna will face no danger, O King," a wise elder assured him. "Hail Lord Hari, hail Lord Hari, hail Lord Hari."

Despite the comforting words and the warmth of the village's collective care, baby Krishna, sensing the intensity of the moment, began to cry loudly. His wails echoed through the gathering, a small voice amidst the solemn prayers.

Mother Yashoda, with a mother's instinct, swiftly picked him up, cradling him in her arms. "There, there, my dear," she cooed softly, rocking him gently. "It's me. Don't be afraid, my precious. You are with your mother. You're hungry, aren't you, my gem? You're hungry. Come, come. I'll give you milk. Don't cry. Don't cry. Here, have some."

Even after the demise of the wicked Putana, Krishna's troubles seemed unending. In Gokul, strange accidents persisted, all mysteriously centered around the divine child. Yet, inexplicably, each was resolved as if by some unseen hand. Mother Yashoda's heart was a constant sea of worry, and she sought to shield her son through fervent prayers, offerings, and meditation.

"Tell us about more such incidents, Brahmarshi," a curious villager requested eagerly. "I am eager to hear about the unique sweetness of Krishna's pastimes."

"Listen, King," the wise sage began, "now I'll tell you about the demon Sakatasura. Hearing about Putana's death, Kansa became furious. He couldn't believe that someone could kill such a terrible witch like Putana. To take revenge for her death, he secretly sent a demon named Utkacha to Gokul."

"Rishivar, who was Utkacha?" asked another, leaning closer with anticipation. "Was he one of Kansa's followers?"

"Just as Putana was a partner in Kansa's evil deeds," the sage explained, "so was Utkacha. Kansa sent demons for tasks that couldn't be done by force. Utkacha was sent to Gokul because he didn't have a body of flesh and blood. So, no one could see him. He moved around invisibly, wherever he wanted, in his airy form. Kansa sent this airy Utkacha to destroy the children of Gokul."

The day Utkacha secretly arrived in Gokul, the village was alive with festivity.

"What festival, my lord?" a young boy asked, his eyes wide with wonder.

"It was Nanda's son's three-month celebration," the sage replied with a smile. "Little Krishna had just learned to smile at the people of Braj. He had learned to turn from one side to the other in his cradle. He reached out his arms wanting to be picked up. If not picked up, he would pout and cry in protest. Yashoda's darling was growing little by little. Her heart was filled with joy. King Nanda held a ceremony with prayers and offerings for the well-being of his child."

At Nanda's house, a festival meant a grand celebration. Everyone from Gokul came to join in, creating an atmosphere of joy and community. This time was no different. The priests came and performed the worship. Nanda, the king, gave them golden necklaces, expensive clothes, and many cows as gifts. The priests blessed Nanda's son and left one by one.

Meanwhile, Yashoda was busy looking after the guests while Krishna lay in his cradle. "Come, brother, come this way," she called warmly. "Oh dear, you come too. What joy this is for me! Where is your Kanai, Nandarani? Let me see him once."

"There he is in the cradle," a neighbor pointed out. "Little Bappa has become so naughty, does he ever let us stay in peace? But you know, if Kanai doesn’t play his pranks, we don’t feel at ease."

Just as they spoke, Yashoda and Rohini were busy welcoming the cowherds and their wives every day. Suddenly, Yashoda's little darling in the cradle started crying. No one heard his cries. Kanai began to cry, kicking his arms and legs. A big wooden cart loaded with pots of ghee, milk, and cream stood near the cradle. Suddenly, there was a loud noise. Everyone rushed over as soon as they heard it.

"Nanda Maharaja, Nanda Maharaja, come and see," shouted a villager, his voice tinged with panic. "What a terrible thing has happened."

"What? What happened?" Nanda called back, his heart pounding with concern. "What was that noise? How did such a big wooden cart..."

Chapter 6: The Cart's Strange Fall

The villagers gathered around the overturned cart, their eyes wide with disbelief as they surveyed the chaos. Pots of ghee, milk, and cream lay strewn across the ground, their contents soaking into the earth.

"What happened here?" Nanda Maharaja asked, his voice filled with concern as he approached the scene. "How could such a big cart overturn like this?"

A young boy, his face flushed with excitement, stepped forward. "I know what happened!" he exclaimed, waving his arms to get everyone's attention.

Nanda knelt down to the boy's level, his curiosity piqued. "What did you see, my child? How did this happen?"

The boy pointed towards the cradle where baby Krishna lay, now peacefully cooing. "I was playing with my friends over there," he explained eagerly. "I saw it all happen. This little boy kicked so hard that the big cart toppled over!"

A murmur of disbelief rippled through the crowd. "What are you saying?" an elderly woman scoffed. "Can a three-month-old baby really overturn such a large cart with just a kick? Is that even possible?"

The boy nodded earnestly. "That’s what happened. We all saw it."

"Yes," chimed in another child. "We saw it too."

Nanda Maharaja looked around, his expression torn between disbelief and wonder. "Really? Can this be true?" he muttered to himself.

An older villager shook his head, chuckling. "Come now, Maharaja. Don’t listen to the children. Who knows what they saw? Kids have wild imaginations. The cart probably tipped over for some other reason."

Despite the skepticism, the villagers worked together, lifting the cart back onto its wheels. They carefully placed the pots of yogurt, milk, cream, and butter back on top, restoring order to the scene. Nanda tried to focus on his guests, but his mind kept wandering back to the mysterious event. Could the children's tale hold a grain of truth?

As the commotion settled, Reshibar, a wise sage, approached Nanda with a knowing smile. "Well, did something really happen, Reshibar?" Nanda asked, his curiosity still burning.

"Yes, King," Reshibar replied, nodding solemnly. "That's exactly what happened. Remember the demon Utkacha I told you about? He took the form of the wind and slipped into the cart, intending to overturn it onto baby Krishna's head. It would have been fatal for any child. But just as the cart was about to tip, the three-month-old Krishna kicked it with great force, sending it crashing away, and freeing Utkacha."

Nanda's eyes widened in amazement. "But how did he get freed when he came to harm Krishna, wise sage?"

Reshibar's eyes twinkled with wisdom. "Any sin can be forgiven with a touch from Govinda, King. When touched by the Supreme Soul, no sin remains."

Nanda leaned in closer, eager to learn more. "Did Utkacha have any good deeds, teacher? What was his past?"

Reshibar began to recount the tale. "Utkacha was the son of the demon Hiranyaksha, named Devadija. He never respected holy men or sages. One day, he went to the hermitage of Sage Lomasa and destroyed his garden. The sage, furious, cursed him, saying, 'You wicked one, your enormous body will be no more. From today, you will live without a body.'"

"'Forgive me, master,' Utkacha had pleaded. 'I will never commit such a sin again. Please forgive me this time. If I lose my body, how will I live, master? Please have mercy and take back your curse.'"

Reshibar continued, "The sage replied, 'I will not take back my curse. Your body will be lost. But since you are repentant, I bless you, Utkacha. In the Dvapara Yuga, you will have a body of air. When it is destroyed by Lord Hari's kick, you will attain liberation.'"

Nanda listened, captivated. "Even though Utkacha's body was destroyed by Sage Lomasa's curse, it was Govinda's kick that freed his soul. You see, King, a sage's anger is actually his blessing. A true sage never wishes harm upon anyone. Utkacha's great fortune was due to Lomasa's grace."

Nanda nodded, deeply moved. "Truly, teacher, your grace has helped me understand the greatness of being in the company of holy men. My desires are slowly fading away, and I am finding peace. Who else but a true sage can describe the sweetness of Hari's stories? Who else has that power, master?"

Reshibar smiled gently. "All power is but a spark of the Supreme Power. He is the source of all strength in the world."

The sage paused, his eyes twinkling with another story. "Listen, Parikshit, let me tell you about the supreme power of Gokul. It was this power that made Mother Yashoda put her beloved child down from her lap to find peace."

Nanda leaned forward, intrigued. "Why, wise sage? Why did Mother Yashoda move him away from her? Please tell me this story, master. I have not heard it before."

Chapter 7: The Whirlwind's Fury

The sage's voice was gentle yet commanding as he began the tale. "Here's an amazing story about a king, Parikshit. Listen carefully. Yashoda's beloved little boy, Kanai, was growing up bit by bit in her arms. She had many chores to do, but she never let go of her Kanai. Even that day, she was busy with her household work, her son nestled comfortably in her lap. The little baby played happily, unaware of the world around him, content in his mother's embrace. But then, something unusual happened. Yashoda paused in her work, a strange unease settling in her heart.

The soft strains of distant music seemed to echo the unusual tension in the air.

"Kanai," Yashoda murmured, her brow furrowed with confusion, "why can't I hold you anymore?" She looked down at her son, her voice a mix of wonder and concern. "Why is Kanai feeling so heavy? He's just a little boy, but it feels like a rock is weighing down on my lap." Her mind raced with worry. "Is Kanai in some kind of danger?" she wondered aloud. "Oh God, please keep my son safe. Protect him from any harm."

A shiver ran through her as Kanai grew heavier and heavier, like the mighty Himalayas. It became impossible to hold him, and with a gentle sigh, she placed him on the ground. But Kanai continued to play happily, unfazed by the change. With a mother's instinct, Yashoda draped him with sacred flowers for protection, whispering prayers for his safety.

Even with her worries, Yashoda couldn't neglect her duties. She returned to her chores, casting anxious glances at her son, who was lost in his own world on the ground. Suddenly, a fierce whirlwind swept through Gokul. The peaceful village was thrown into chaos as a violent wind lifted bricks and stones into the air. Trees were uprooted, and darkness descended upon Gokul like a shroud.

The people of Gokul were gripped by panic. "What is the meaning of the dogs' signals?" they cried. "Why has it suddenly become like night during the day?" The air was thick with dust and stones, obscuring their vision. "Where are you? Save me! I'm doomed, my house is destroyed," came the frantic cries. The storm was unlike anything they had ever seen, and fear rippled through the village.

In the midst of the chaos, King Kansa, restless in Mathura, was devising a new plan. His previous demons, Putana and Utka, had failed, leaving him uneasy. He was convinced there was a mystery in Gokul he couldn't unravel. This time, he sent Trinavarta, his most trusted servant, to do his bidding. Trinavarta came not in his usual form, but as the fierce whirlwind now tormenting Gokul.

The storm raged on, and the people of Gokul were desperate for safety. "King Nanda, save us!" they pleaded. "Our cows, stones, and vegetables are flying away. Our homes are broken. Is this a storm or a demon?" The cries for help were everywhere, but escape seemed impossible. Darkness clouded their eyes, and they stumbled blindly through the chaos.

In Nanda's house, fear took hold. Yashoda, her heart pounding with terror, ran outside. She had left Kanai lying in the courtyard, but now it was empty. A powerful whirlwind rose before her eyes, ascending into the sky. Despair gripped her as she clutched her head and cried out, "Kanai, Kanai, Kanai, where did you go, my child? Come back, Kanai, come back. Where is my Kanai? Has anyone seen him?"

In the swirling chaos above, a mighty demon had taken little Krishna into the sky. But the demon's triumph was short-lived, for the whirlwind's fury was too much even for him. The demon and the little child crashed to the ground, and Yashoda's tears fell like rain. What would happen now?

The sage paused, his tale hanging in the air like the notes of a haunting melody. "We'll return with this story in the next episode," he said softly, leaving the listeners eager for more.

"You have been listening to the story of Krishna, based on the Srimad Bhagavatam and Garga Samhita, written by Sage Vyasa," he concluded, as the music faded into a gentle silence.

Chapter 8: The Village Awakens

The village of Vrindavan had never known such a commotion. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a golden hue over the fields, when a loud crash echoed through the air. It was as if the earth itself had trembled in fear. People rushed out of their homes, their faces painted with worry and curiosity.

In the center of the village, a crowd began to form around the fallen demon and the small child, Krishna, who now sat unharmed amidst the chaos. His mother, Yashoda, knelt beside him, her eyes filled with tears of relief and disbelief.

Nanda, Krishna’s father, pushed his way through the growing throng. "What has happened here?" he asked, his voice a mix of fear and awe.

Yashoda looked up, her hands gently caressing Krishna's face. "It's a miracle," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Our little Krishna... he is safe."

The villagers murmured amongst themselves, their eyes darting between the lifeless form of Putana, the demoness, and the serene child who seemed untouched by the danger that had befallen him.

An old sage, Lomas Muni, who had been watching from a distance, stepped forward. His long white beard swayed gently in the morning breeze. "This is no ordinary child," he declared, his voice carrying the weight of ancient wisdom. "He is destined for greatness."

The villagers listened in awe, their hearts swelling with a mix of pride and wonder. Parikshit, a young boy from the crowd, tugged at his father's sleeve. "Father, is it true? Is Krishna really a savior?"

His father, Abhighoshala, nodded solemnly. "Yes, my son. He is here to protect us all."

As the villagers slowly dispersed, each returning to their daily tasks, the story of Krishna’s miraculous escape spread like wildfire. In every corner of Vrindavan, whispers of the divine child filled the air. The Gopis gathered near the river, their voices rising in song and prayer, while the Braj women offered flowers and sweets in gratitude.

Meanwhile, in the distant kingdom of Mathura, the evil king Kansa paced his chambers, his mind troubled by ominous dreams. "The child lives," he muttered to himself, his fists clenched in frustration. "But I will not rest until he is destroyed."

Back in Vrindavan, the villagers carried on, their hearts lighter, their faith stronger. Krishna played in the fields, his laughter echoing through the village, a sound that promised hope and joy.

And so, the story of Krishna continued to unfold, each day bringing new adventures and miracles, as the little child grew into the hero he was destined to be.

The sun climbed higher in the sky, casting a warm glow over the village, as the tale of Krishna and the demoness Putana became yet another cherished chapter in the lives of the people of Vrindavan.