A few Lines of Reflection— Krishna Janmashtami

A few Lines of Reflection

— Krishna Janmashtami

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The Krishna Janmashtami is being celebrated today, a festival which, in some part of India, is also referred to as Krishna Jayanti. A thought suddenly occurred to my mind: why do we say Krishna Janmashtami or Ram Navami with respect to the birthdays of Lord Krishna and Lord Rama, whereas the birth anniversaries of many other revered personalities are referred to as Jayanti—Mahavir Jayanti, Gandhi Jayanti, Guru Nanak Jayanti, Nehru Jayanti, Tagore Jayanti, etc.?

There may be some exceptions to this convention. We do, for instance, say Hanuman Jayanti, Parashuram Jayanti or Hanuman Chaturdashi. Yet the question still occurred to me: why this difference in nomenclature?

Perhaps it is only a matter of convention. Or perhaps there is something deeper behind it.

Such thoughts led me to Krishna and Rama—not merely as divine personalities, but as human beings whose lives were surrounded by extraordinary circumstances and extraordinary struggles.

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Just think of Krishna.

Even before his birth, his fate seemed to have been decided by circumstances. He was born in prison, to parents who could not even keep him with them. As soon as he was born, he had to be carried away from his parents and taken across the Yamuna to Gokul, where he was brought up by his foster parents.

His biological mother, Devaki, was deprived of the opportunity to nurture him. His father, Vasudeva, could not remain with him either. And yet Krishna grew up, surrounded by dangers that would have broken an ordinary child.

His childhood itself was a succession of struggles. He had to confront repeated attempts on his life. His own uncle, Kansa, was determined to destroy him. He therefore could not simply enjoy the carefree childhood that one normally associates with that age.

And then came the larger struggle of his life.

He ultimately found himself at the centre of a conflict in which the entire moral order of his time seemed to be at stake. The battlefield of Kurukshetra became the setting in which he delivered the Gita—a teaching that has continued to speak to humanity across religions, cultures and centuries.

I just think:

Is it not remarkable that a life which began in a prison, passed through separation from one's parents, danger and struggle, ultimately became a great message to humanity cutting across all religions?

Perhaps that is what makes Krishna's life so extraordinary.

His life seems to tell us that circumstances do not necessarily determine the destination of a person.

He was born in prison; he was carried away from his biological parents; he was brought up by foster parents; he faced danger from childhood; and finally, he stood amidst two armies on a battlefield.

Yet, in all these circumstances, he did not surrender himself to them.

Rather, he transformed the circumstances of his life into the means through which he communicated a larger truth.

And this, in my opinion, is one of the most profound lessons that Krishna's life offers us:

Life is a game that everyone is required to play.

Whether you win or lose, you have to play.

What matters, therefore, is not merely whether you win the game, but how you play it.

And perhaps how you play it depends upon how well you understand the rules of the game.

That, to me, may be one of the most enduring messages of Krishna's life.

R.R.Prabhakar.