One summer day Krishna and Rāma and their companions in the shade of the
trees were a-sporting among themselves, when they saw coming toward them
a stranger, a boy, clad as a tender of cows.
He joined in the games and soon all were merry, but Krishna, the knower
of all, and the all-seeing One, in him beheld an Asura, named Pralamba,
who had come in their midst to bring calamity, though friendship he
feigned.
Krishna proposed a game to be played by dividing the boys into equal
numbers and fighting, in sport, one with the other. Krishna was chosen
the leader on one side and Rāma the leader on the other.
The defeated side, it was proposed, must carry on their backs the
winners of the victorious side, and so the play began.
Krishna's side was defeated, and it was ordered that, among others,
Pralamba, the Asura, carry Rāma on his back.
Away went the boys, each defeated one carrying on his back a winner.
Suddenly the boys heard Rāma's voice shouting to them, and behold, the
Asura, by black magic power, a giant had become and was flying through
the forest with Rāma on his back!
Krishna looked at them, then shouted to Rāma: "Brother, forget not that
Thou art Vishnoo and that I am here!"
In an instant all fear left the heart of Rāma, and remembering who and
what he was, he was filled with Almighty power and felled the giant with
a heavy blow; and the play went on as before:
Another time the cows strayed into the forests and were overtaken by a
great conflagration, and like wild beasts they leaped and bellowed
through the forest.
The boys followed and called, but onward the cows plunged, nor heeded
their voices, till Krishna's voice they heard; then turning they
gathered about Him, seeing naught but the love and power in His eyes.
For the brute is ever stilled by the might of Love; unlike man it
knoweth its power and yieldeth to its force.
But the boys still turned towards Krishna, full of fear of the
conflagration that threatened to envelop them. He looked at them all,
and their fear was allayed. Then He gazed at the fire and asked the boys
their eyes to close. This, they did, and when they looked again, the
flames were no more to be seen.
Such was the Yoga-power of Sree Krishna, and the boys seeing His
wonderful acts knew that Krishna was more than boy.
And joyous were they and gathered flowers and leaves that grew in great
abundance at the foot of the trees, and they all wove them into garlands
of white, purple, and red, and wound them about Krishna's neck, and also
bedecked each other with flowers and threw wreaths about the cows' necks
and the calves' and homeward they wended their way in the twilight, just
as the sun was sinking to rest.
The birds ceased their sleepy chirp and opened their eyes wide, and
sleep left the flowers that nodded near the roadside, and the sun stood
in space a moment to watch the procession that galloped down the road.
Krishna, the Beautiful, came in the lead, bedecked and beflowered. The
spirit of life He was, with a transfiguring glory in His face, and His
eyes full of softness and love-light. His body all graceful in curves to
behold, yet strong in the vigor of youth, that shone through its grace.
With His hands on the necks of His two favorite cows, those who ever
followed Him about as a child, the white on His right side, the black on
His left, homeward they ran, while the white dust arose and covered and
caressed them; one after the other, each bedecked with garlands, and
each boy between two cows, who like them were wreathed with wild
flowers.
And the elder Gopis and Gopas held their breath at the sight, so
entrancing, that reached their eyes at the home-coming of the boys and
their cows, bedecked and beflowered with the sweet wild flowers, and
headed by Him whom they loved.