Then Kangsa, the brother of Devaki, besought the demoness Putanā, mother
of evil, to give each child in arms the milk of her breast, that should
fill them with death at the sucking.
And forth she did go, and prayed to be taken into the palace of the
king, to behold the young Child v/hose face gave blessing to all who on
it looked.
On her coming, the Child stretched forth its arms to be taken to her
breast, but when her breast between His lips He took, she bent her face
to look at the Babe, and fear made her pale and faint, for in the beauty
of His eye the wisdom of all the world she beheld.
And releasing the Master she held at her breast, she pleaded and prayed
that He cease His sucking, but harder He drew and firmer His grip was,
till exhausted and lifeless she fell on the ground, while with a smile
the Babe played with the breast arid crept on the body that lay in
death.
And when they came from far and wide to look at her who brought
destruction and death to children, they beheld her swelled and stretched
to immensity.
For smiling evil seemeth not big, but rob it of the smile that hideth
its leer, and huge and misshapen it doth become.
So with Putanā it was. Forth she went to mother and suckle the young
children and thus bring death to the Child of Love. Clothed in sweet
motherhood and kindness of purpose, all hearts were opened to welcome
her freely, yet evil she brought wherever she walked.
But He who was All Love at once sighted her hatred for love, by that
which in her all unlike Himself was, and straightway in her poverty of
Love and nakedness of heart she stood revealed in His eyes.
And all saw her thus hideous and unsightly, and marvelled at the
blindness of their eyes.
But mark now the kindness and power of Love.
By the touch of His lips upon her breast, she, who never knew love, by
contact with Him became sanctified. And the effort Putanā put forth to
bring death to Krishna, under cover of Love, did make her for the moment
a mother in truth. And for that moment of concentrated love in Him the
honor of Divine Motherhood on her was bestowed in that realm where hate
is unknown. And all the world marvelled, when dead she lay, at the aroma
that rose from her huge body.
But the Child only smiled as He played on her breast.
Verily the aroma of great sweetness reached to all the skies. For Love
is ever the master of hate, and Love in its strength doth conquer all
hate, and hate is purified by the breath of Love, and sanctified it is
by its hand.