NAVRATRI SPECIAL DAY - 4

As the festive spirit of Navratri continued to envelope Dwarka, Balarama sat in a quieter corner, his thoughts drifting far away from the celebrations. Subhadra’s laughter could be heard as she playfully engaged with her brother and the people, but Balarama’s mind was elsewhere—he was contemplating his sister’s future. It was a thought he had been entertaining for quite some time, though no decision had yet been made.

He had no doubts about Subhadra's worth—she was as talented as she was beautiful, filled with grace, intelligence, and strength. Her bond with her brothers was unique, especially with Krishna, whose protectiveness over her matched Balarama's. But now that she was reaching the right age, Balarama knew that he had to think about her marriage, despite feeling protective. The question of who would be worthy enough for her lingered in his mind. No groom had been decided, and his thoughts often circled back to the idea of finding someone who could match her in every aspect.

As Balarama mulled over these thoughts, the day’s festivities reached a high point, with Krishna preparing to tell the story of Kushmanda, the Goddess worshiped on the fourth day of Navratri. Subhadra, despite her busy day and the ceremonies, eagerly awaited her brother’s storytelling, although tiredness clearly reflected on her face. Krishna took a seat in the courtyard, with people gathering around him in anticipation.

Krishna began, “Kushmanda, the goddess whose very smile brought life into the universe. Her name comes from three words—'Ku' meaning little, 'Ushma' meaning energy, and 'Anda,' meaning egg, signifying how she gave birth to the universe with her radiant smile, despite being a source of immense power.”

He looked around at his audience as he continued. “Kushmanda’s tale is about creation. When there was only darkness, it was she who gave form to the cosmos, illuminating the void with her energy. As her light spread across, she brought life to all beings. She is the source of vitality, the goddess who sustains and nourishes, and her worship during Navratri is to honor the inner light we all carry.”

Subhadra, who had been listening intently, smiled as she leaned back, resting after a long day of festivities. She had been eager to send a message to Arjuna, but the exhaustion from the rituals and celebrations was beginning to take its toll. As Krishna’s voice filled the air with the goddess’s story, she found herself gradually succumbing to her fatigue, resting her head against her hand. Even though she wanted to talk to Arjun, she couldn’t muster the energy, knowing well that another day would come to speak to him about her thoughts.

Meanwhile, elsewhere, Arjuna was deep in his thoughts as well. He had been invited to the upcoming swayamvara of Draupadi, the daughter of King Drupada. The invitation weighed heavily on his heart—not because of the competition itself, but because of Subhadra. Since the day they had begun their delicate communication, Arjun had felt an invisible bond growing between them, and now, with this new turn of events, he found himself torn between the choices before him.

Arjuna knew that his duty was paramount, but the uncertainty surrounding Subhadra’s feelings, and his own, troubled him. How would she feel knowing he would be participating in Draupadi’s swayamvara? And what if fate had another path in store for him?

Back in Dwarka, Krishna finished his story of Kushmanda with a gentle smile, but before anyone could depart, he added, “Now, how about a little story of my own? It has been a while since I’ve shared something from my childhood.”

Subhadra, despite her exhaustion, perked up slightly. Krishna’s childhood tales were always filled with warmth and a mischievous sense of adventure, and she never tired of hearing them.

“Well,” Krishna began,
Krishna smiled at his audience, ready to share another tale from his youth.

"Let me tell you about the time when the villagers of Vrindavan faced a peculiar problem. One night, a mighty serpent, Kaliya, took residence in the Yamuna River. The river, once pure and the lifeblood of the village, turned black and poisonous. The people could no longer drink its water, and their cattle began to die. The entire village was in fear, for none could drive away the serpent.”

Krishna paused, drawing the listeners in closer. “I was just a boy, but I knew I had to act. So, one day, while playing near the river with my friends, I leaped into the water. The villagers gasped in horror, thinking the serpent would devour me. But I had a plan."

Krishna’s eyes twinkled with mischief. "As soon as I entered the water, Kaliya wrapped its massive coils around me, trying to crush me. But with a quick move, I broke free and began to dance on the serpent's many heads. With each step, I pushed the snake deeper into submission. The entire village watched in awe as I forced Kaliya to surrender and promise to leave the river forever.”

His audience smiled, imagining the scene. “The Yamuna flowed pure again, and peace was restored. Kaliya and his family left without causing further harm. It was one of my favorite dances,” Krishna said with a wink, as his listeners chuckled at the playful god.

As the evening progressed and the stories came to an end, Balarama found his mind wandering back to Subhadra. Her future, her happiness—these thoughts occupied his mind, but he had not yet reached a decision. He knew that her marriage would be a matter of great importance, and though he felt a strong inclination to protect her, he also trusted that she had the wisdom to guide her own destiny. But the question remained—who would be the right person to share her life? Would it be someone who could match her strength and grace? Or someone who could offer her the care and understanding she deserved?

With these thoughts, Balarama found himself silently observing his sister as she interacted with the people. Her joy, her laughter—it made him realize just how important this decision was. But, for now, it was just a thought, and there was no urgency in rushing her into any decisions.

As the night deepened, the festivities began to wind down. Subhadra, now more tired than ever, retired to her room. She stared at the arrow on her bedside table, the one Arjuna had given her, surrounded by flowers. She wanted to talk to him, to hear his voice, but her exhaustion pulled her under before she could send a message.

In another place, under the same sky, Arjuna remained restless, knowing that he would soon have to attend Draupadi’s swayamvara, all the while thinking of Subhadra. He closed his eyes, hoping that somehow, through the invisible connection they shared, she would understand that he had much to say but no words yet to express it.