Bhagavatham Stories

After completing their studies in the ashram of Sandipani, Krishna and Balarama journeyed back toward Mathura with a different quality of presence than when they had departed. Their youthful exuberance and playful innocence had been tempered by the discipline of formal training, yet their essential nature remained unchanged. They were approaching manhood now, and both brothers carried within them a deepening awareness of the responsibilities they would soon assume. For Krishna, the return toward Mathura also meant approaching the moment when he would finally confront his uncle Kamsa, whose continued tyranny and whose ongoing attempts to destroy Krishna had been a backdrop to all of Krishna's childhood and adolescent years.

As they traveled, Krishna and Balarama stopped in Vrindavan to visit their earthly parents, Nanda and Yashoda, and to see once again the village that had been the context for so many of Krishna's earliest pastimes. The reunion between Krishna and his parents was deeply moving. Yashoda, who had nursed Krishna as an infant, who had bandaged his wounds when demons attacked, who had grieved at his departure, now saw her son returned to her transformed—taller, more mature, bearing the marks of his formal education and training, yet still fundamentally the same being who had played so freely in the meadows of Vrindavan. Nanda embraced both Krishna and Balarama, and in that embrace was the complex emotion of pride at how his sons had grown combined with the sadness of recognizing that they were no longer the children he had raised.

The gopis, hearing that Krishna had returned to Vrindavan, experienced a surge of emotion that was almost overwhelming. For years, they had lived with the separation that Krishna had warned them would come. They had channeled their love for him into spiritual practice and meditation, developing a capacity for love that transcended physical proximity. Now, suddenly, the object of their love was physically present again. The reunion between Krishna and the gopis was far more significant than a simple meeting of loved ones after a long separation. It was a celebration of a love that had endured across time and space, a confirmation that the spiritual connection established between them could survive any physical separation. Krishna spent extended time with the gopis, engaging in pastimes that were now charged with a new significance—these were pastimes conducted by Krishna at the threshold of manhood, approaching the moment when he would assume his role as a warrior and a king.

During his time in Vrindavan, Krishna also reflected deeply on the spiritual lessons that had been established through his childhood pastimes. The demons he had defeated had not been merely external enemies but had represented the various obstacles to spiritual realization that existed in the hearts of all beings—ignorance, false pride, lust, greed, and all the various distortions of consciousness that prevented beings from accessing their true spiritual nature. Each demon's defeat had been accompanied by a teaching about how these internal obstacles could be overcome. Now, approaching his manhood and his entry into the political world, Krishna understood that these teachings would need to be applied on a larger scale—he would need to guide an entire civilization toward spiritual understanding and away from the demonic qualities that led to suffering and destruction.

Yet even as Krishna contemplated his future role, he made sure that his time in Vrindavan was not spent merely in nostalgic reflection or in preparation for future duties. Instead, he participated fully in the present moment, engaging with his parents, the gopis, and the people of Vrindavan with complete presence and affection. He played his flute again in the meadows, and those who heard the music felt as if they were transported back in time—as if the years of separation had been erased and they were once again in the midst of Krishna's childhood pastimes. Yet there was also a subtle difference to the music now. It carried within it not merely the sweetness of innocent joy but also the depth of experience, the bittersweet quality of time passing and transformations occurring, the complexity of a being who was simultaneously ancient and eternally young.

Krishna also took this opportunity to teach more formally the principles that had been woven throughout his pastimes. To the cowherd boys and young men of Vrindavan who had grown to manhood alongside him or who had heard of his deeds, Krishna began to explain the deeper spiritual significance of the events that had occurred. He discussed the nature of dharma—how to live according to sacred duty in a way that honored both individual truth and collective responsibility. He spoke about the purpose of different forms of power and how true strength consists not in dominating others but in serving the welfare of all beings. He taught about love—how love for the divine is the highest form of love, how love transcends all other forms of knowledge and power, how love is the ultimate goal of all spiritual seeking.

Before departing Vrindavan to assume his role in the political world and to confront Kamsa, Krishna took a final walk through the sacred spaces of Vrindavan. He visited the exact tree where he had been hung by Yashoda as punishment for stealing butter. He went to the meadow where he had lifted Govardhana Mountain. He walked along the banks of the Yamuna River where he had defeated the Kaliya serpent. At each place, Krishna sat in meditation, reliving the pastimes that had occurred there, acknowledging the love that had been generated through those events, and releasing them into the care of eternity. The places themselves—having been hallowed by Krishna's presence and pastimes—would become eternal pilgrimage sites for all future seekers, locations where the grace of Krishna continued to flow and where all beings could access the spiritual experiences that had been established through his leelas.

When Krishna finally departed from Vrindavan for the last time, carrying with him the blessings of his parents and the eternal love of the gopis, he was no longer merely the divine child or the playful adolescent. He was becoming Krishna the warrior, Krishna the strategist, Krishna the liberator who would establish justice in the world and create the conditions for spiritual realization to flourish. Yet within him, the divine child remained eternally, capable of infinite play and infinite love, a consciousness that could simultaneously engage with the highest cosmic principles while remaining accessible to the humblest heart that called out for his mercy.