Once upon a time in India...

Kamsa, a despot, was then the king of Mathura. He had imprisoned his father in order to become the only ruler. He had a sister named Devaki who was married to a noble man, Vasudeva.

Kamsa one day heard a heavenly voice, saying, "Kamsa, your days of tyranny will soon be over, you will be killed by the eighth child of Devaki."

The king became frightened and immediately imprisoned his sister and her husband. He did not want to take any chances and killed at birth each and every child of Devaki, until the time came for the delivery of the eighth child. To feel more secure, Kamsa increased the number of prison guards, kept strict vigilance and put Vasudeva in chains. But God planned otherwise.

At midnight when the eighth child was born, the guards fell fast asleep and Vasudeva's chains fell off his hands and feet. Wasting no time, Vasudeva picked up the newborn baby and carrying it in a basket, started towards Gokul. Gokul was a village of cowherds, located across the Yamuna river, where his friend Nanda lived.

It was a dark stormy night with blinding rain continuously pouring from the sky. When Vasudeva reached the river bank of Yamuna, the river was in full spate. The wind and storm were blowing wild, and Vasudeva was in a fix.

"Lord, what should I do?" cried Vasudeva in a hopeless voice...


Just as Vasudeva was about to despair of an answer from any of the gods, a new sound came to his ears above the noise of the storm. As he strained his ears to listen, the wind began to die down and the drenching rain tapered off to a drizzle. Over the rushing of the water in the flooded river, he heard the strains of a tune being played on a FLUTE. Amazed that anyone would be standing out in such a storm playing a FLUTE, and mesmerized by the melody, Vasudeva walked into the river, unheeding of the danger to himself and the child he carried. He only wanted to be closer to the sweet music.

But the gods were watching over the father and son. They guided Vasudeva's feet to find footholds on the rocks which in normal weather formed a dry bridge across the river, and he was able to scramble up the steep bank on the other side without mishap. Still following the sound of the music, he strode off in the direction from which he thought it was coming, but soon found himself lost in a thick, damp mist. As Vasudeva turned this way and that, trying to find his way, he suddenly realized that the sweet music had been replaced by the gentle lowing of a COW.

He knew then that he must be close to Gokul, and thus to the safety of his friend's house, but it seemed that as he went forward, the lowing came from his right. As he turned toward the sound, then it seemed to come from his left, then from behind him. Vasudeva knew that even in his haste to take his son to a safe place that it was folly to continue. He reasoned that the king's men would not be able to find him in this dark misty night, so he found a thicket in which he hoped they both would be hidden from unfriendly eyes and lay down with his son in his arms. As he drifted off to sleep, his mind drifted over the events of the night and his soul wondered at the NATURE of his miraculous escape. His heart grieved for his wife, who was still imprisoned by her brother.

Vesadeva awoke to the feel of hot breath on his face. In a panic, he sat up, only to find himself face to face with a COW. Relieved that it was not one of his brother-in-law's men, he spoke gently to the cow, stroking her velvety head. She lowed in contentment but the quiet moment was broken as the babe awoke and began to whimper. Clenching his little fists and kicking his little feet, his face turned bright red as his wails became louder and louder. Vasudeva was terrified that the cries of his son would lead the king's men to their hiding place.

It was as if the cow was speaking to him, though he knew that she could not talk. She was telling him to allow her to suckle the babe, that he was crying because he was hungry. Since Vasudeva could think of nothing else to do, he agreed. The cow lay down in the brush and Vasudeva held his son to the teat which was swollen with milk. The babe began to nurse and before long he was satisfied and fast asleep in his father's arms.

The sky was beginning to pale as the cow rose to her feet. Again she seemed to speak to Vasudeva, bidding him to follow her to Gokul. As they made their way to the village in the brightening dawn, the cow paused to nose a heap on the ground, making a keening mournful sound in her throat. Vasudeva squatted to see what she had found and saw it was a newly born calf, dead, but not for long.

"Ah mother. You have lost your own little one and have found another in my son. From this day forth, he shall be as your son, and you will be as an honored mother to him."

When they reached the village, Vasudeva's friend Nanda arranged for a substitute child to be carried by Vasudeva, who then hurried back across the river so as to distance himself from his true son. Nanda and his wife Yashoda raised the baby Krishna as their own.

And the cow? The cow poured all the LOVE that she had had for her own son into this human child. She followed him around to the point of becoming ridiculous. The villagers would laugh at the pair and make jokes about the DEVOTION of a LOVESICK COW.

But the child Krishna admonished them softly, explaining that his friend had once saved his life. And this is why, to this day, cows are sacred in India.


Author's note: For those of you who are not familiar with the Hindu religion, this is NOT why cows are revered in India. This tale is, for the most part, a fanciful invention of its author.