When the hour for the festivities of the Bow began, spectators
innumerable filled the galleries and platforms of the amphitheatre. By
every tongue the praise of Krishna's beauty was sung, and all awaited
with eager desire the arrival of the brothers Rāma and Krishna.
In the centre of the arena a platform was raised, where Kangsa, the
king, and his ministers were enthroned. His eyes were lurid with hate
and his heart quaking with fear, for his dreams had been full of evil
omens, and he knew that he of all that multitude was out of tune with
Nature.
For Krishna, the Youth, had scattered flowers of love in that city for
all who chose to partake of them, and all hearts had gathered them
eagerly. Only he alone had turned from the good and abided by his hate;
and he knew, in spite of the wrestlers and the wild elephant, and even
the guard that stood ready to slay at his command, that the Youth would
conquer, as He ever had, and that he would die by His hands sooner or
later.
For had it not been writ thus? And again had not every attempt of his to
put out the life of the eighth child of Devaki been baffled in marvelous
ways? And still the Youth lived and smiled. Surely he was Hari, the
Invincible!
His hate betrayed him and was hourly leading him into a trap. It charmed
him like a subtle snake, while it frightened him like a huge wild beast;
yet gladly would he have opened the valve that held his wrath and
flooded all with its poison, if by so doing he might have annihilated
that glorious Youth who stood ever before him by night and day and smote
his cruel heart as with a glowing rod.
So all his stolid self-possession was gone as he looked on, when
Krishna, the Beautiful, soft as a delicate woman, yet invincible as
unconquered strength, walked 'mid the hysterically joyous shouts of the
people to where the giant Bow was guarded by warriors bold.
A moment, and then He seized the Bow and held it aloft with one hand,
the Bow that twelve men of mighty strength alone could handle, and with
a twist of His wrist it fell at their feet, broken in twain.
The guards rushed forward, as if to strike Him low; but when near Him,
they stopped and looked at His glory; they crouched low on their
haunches and fell on their faces, unable to move, for the life had gone
out of their bodies by the first wave of His hand.
But blessed were they; for none died by the hand of Krishna, but by Him
was made pure and straightway to the realms of Bliss they were sent.
For where the hand of Krishna rested, whether to bring life or take life
away, that man forever holy was made by the touch.
So also with Kangsa it was. Dwelling constantly on Krishna, even though
in hate, he came closer to Love than he himself knew.
So the celebration of the Bow ended in triumph for Krishna and Rāma. And
though Kangsa sent a body of well-armed soldiers to apprehend them, lo!
the conquerors victorious walked from the arena, followed by the cheers
of the worshipping populace, who saw that in strength they were
invincible, even as in beauty they were incomparable. And they looked
forward eagerly to the morrow, when the brothers were to participate in
wrestlings and sports.
But Rāma and Krishna returned to spend the night with the Gopas; while
the people of Mathura neither ate nor slept, but sang of their beauty
and might.