Not even the Gods can escape the pain of death. Beneath my foot is a pool of blood with Jara's poisonous arrow tip partially jutting out of my skin.
The pain is unbearable. I had once lifted the Govardhana, but now I am too exhausted to try and pull the arrow out of my foot. I stare at the red blood that has surrounded my foot, drenching the lower ends of my yellow dhoti in red.
The poison is slow to kill me so I guess I have lots of time to ponder over the events that have transpired in my life. Jara, the innocent hunter is weeping beside me, his hands joined in forgiveness. Oh, who will make this hunter understand the ways of destiny and time. The one who undergoes birth is sure to die.
My eyes are fluttering, my breath feels heavy with each passing time, yet I manage to look down at the blood assembled down near me. It's dark red colour reminds me of life even in my time of death.
It's time to hand over the torch to the new timeline that is to begin soon. People from Dwapara are sceptical about Kali. I don't blame them though. Kali is going to be the age of darkness where the rich will prey on the poor, where the king will be a thief, where fools would be respected for wearing a guise of a learned man. In every human, there will be the demon lurking in them, yet I still have high hopes from the mortals who will exist in Kali. Inner battles are the toughest to win. You have no martial training, no arrows and swords to fight with your darkness existing within your body.
I am to go back and watch the age of Kali unfold. The wise sages, the sacred scriptures talk about the fierce battle of good versus evil. In every mortal, I reside and they reside in me. I am sure some thinkers from Kali yuga will wonder if God exists within all, then why let bad things happen. Why let crimes occur? Why should murder and thievery exist?
What is the Universe if not a play? This is the stage for Gods and humans alike. The Gods get to know everything while the humans immerse themselves in a lifelong quest to find what they truly are? Why do they exist? Every human, every heart is a character in this grand stage. They come to life through me and come back to me when the story is over. Darkness surrounds the stage for a while when the story is over, only to let the curtains move up again and welcome a new story again.
My lovely Gopikas from Vrindavan, Yashoda maiya and Nand baba, my friends from Gokul and Vrindavan, we will meet again some day some time soon. A new story will start again, and we will don new robes and play new characters.
My beloved wives who stood by me through thick and thin, we shall come back once again. Perhaps the next time I will write love letters to each one of you. I can feel my energy draining. The vital energy, Prana flowing through my body has reduced its pace. Only a few more moments and all of this will be over.
Over. I will be a part of poetries and ballads. I will belong to stories and paintings. Krishna will never walk on the same land again. Time is a circle but when it reaches the same point again, it doesn't repeat itself again. You and I will come back to the same place, maybe in the same flesh, yet we will have new pages added to our story. It is never the same.
The Great War. Who can ever forget that? Relations turned too sour that it caused bloodshed. I know many will blame me for not stopping the way. It's true I would have stopped young brides turning into widows. I could let mothers see their sons once more. Mata Gandhari would have her sons with her and some time later, Karna would have accepted Kunti and his brothers.
Draupadi, my sakhi, the queen of Indraprastha. I cannot forget you nor will history. Do you remember how you tied a piece of your cloth to my hand when I cut myself accidentally. Sakhi, tie the cloth again to my foot. Perhaps the pain will lessen.
Pandavas, my brothers, I hope sometime later, we come back again on this earth, but with no wars and exile periods. I wish if you were all here beside me.
Alas, I am going to die alone in this forest. I remember being surrounded with hundreds of people who wanted to have a glimpse of my face. But, here I am. Watching the blood droplets drop down to the ground under a tree with no friend and family beside me.
I, Vasudev Krishna will become a myth for everyone in the upcoming age. They will believe in the existence of objects they see and never the other way around. Go within yourself, understand the universe existing within yourselves and you will find me residing in you.
I can hear a faint sound of a flute. My eyes are droopy and my foot is drenched in blood. Jara is still in tears, his eyes fixated on my face. I want nothing much to sleep now.
Om shanti shanti shantihi.
*****
The sun of Dwapar had set permanently that day with the last breath of Dwarkadheesh Krishna. He died alone in a forest with none of his friends and families by his side. Krishna's golden city was nothing but a lore now, sung by priests and bards about a glorious kingdom on the shores of the mighty sea.
For some, his story will only remain like a legend, like those folk tales passed on from generations to generations. As Time sweeps the world, history turns into myth and stories. The Lord of Dwarka was no exception to it.
Yet, his memory is still alive in the hearts of the people who reside in Bharat. His songs will be sing until the end of time, be it is Prema geeta or the Bhagavad Geeta.
But, you must also know this. The day when the world stops remembering Krishna, the day nobody sings his songs anymore will be the day, the world will be officially doomed in darkness.
I see a peacock feather fluttering in the air. A sweet tune rings inside my ears. Krishna still remains in this holy soil of Bharata.
*****
I slept midway while typing this out because k fell too deep in it, so I hope this turned out good. I have no idea if this is going to hit you in the feels but I have always been curious about the part where Krishna dies. I know I will cry but yeah k want to know what he felt.
Anyway see you soon sometime
