Why before Krishna himself Mahavishnu? A wonderful story of Srimad Bhagavatam .Secret of 4 Children

Why before Krishna himself Mahavishnu? A wonderful story of Srimad Bhagavatam .Secret of 4 Children

Keshav, where are you taking me? The directions have vanished here. Will we truly find that brahmin’s children in this darkness? The answer to this question did not lie within this darkness. Its answer lay far behind, in those days when all this first began, with the tears of a single father. Dwaraka, the city of Lord Krishna. Here, a son was born in the house of a brahmin. As the first sound of life echoed, the brahmin was about to rejoice, but that sound could not progress beyond the very first breath. The moment it touched the earth, that tiny body grew still. With trembling hands, the father lifted that lifeless form and walked to the gates of King Ugrasena’s assembly. There were no tears in his eyes; there was only fury. This king is an enemy of brahmins, a slave of the senses, immersed in unrighteousness. Some sin of his has taken the life of my son. Where a king cannot keep his senses under control, the subjects of that realm reap only sorrow. He placed that tiny corpse at the gate and walked away. Then time passed, a second son was born, but time repeated itself once more. The infant met with death the moment it was born, and this time, the infant vanished into the sky along with its body.

Then the third, and then precisely the same—three times life came, and three times the sky swallowed it up. The brahmin felt there was some supreme power acting in this manner, taking my son, yet no one could figure out who takes them and why. In those very days, Krishna was performing a sacrifice. The licking flames of the fire, the chanting of mantras, the rising trails of smoke, right then that brahmin, cutting through the crowd near the sacrificial arena, stepped forward and spoke in panic. Oh Lord, the burden of protecting the subjects now rests upon you. My three sons have been snatched away the moment they were born. Now the fourth is about to arrive, and my wife is in the throes of labor pains. This time, make arrangements such that no harm comes to my child. Oh best of the twice-born, may you be blessed. Fear no one. Though I am seated in this sacrifice today, protecting a brahmin under any circumstance is our duty. Standing nearby, a warrior awakened within Arjuna. He stepped forward. Command me, Keshav, I will banish this brahmin’s fear. Krishna looked at him and smiled slightly. Can you truly protect him, Arjuna? Arjuna’s face flushed with heat, shame and pride rising together. He turned toward the brahmin, but in the brahmin’s eyes, there was only disbelief. Those whom Vasudeva could not save, whom neither Sankarshana nor Pradyumna could save, will you save them? Oh brahmin, I am neither Sankarshana nor Krishna, nor the son of Krishna; I am the wielder of Gandiva, Arjuna. Do not underestimate my capability, which has already satisfied Lord Shiva Himself. I will bring your children back, even if I have to wage war against death incarnate. I give you my word, and if I fail to fulfill it, I shall step into the fire myself as penance for my sin. The brahmin returned, somewhat assured yet doubtful, and then that night arrived.

The hour of childbirth was drawing near. Arjuna bowed to Lord Maheshwara, repeated the mantras of his divine weapons one by one in his mind, and then strung his Gandiva. He surrounded the house with arrows, above, below, and in all four directions, creating an impenetrable cage inside which even the wind could not enter without permission. As the night deepened, the first cry of a newborn echoed from within the house. Arjuna gripped the Gandiva tightly, his eyes fixed on every direction, and then from within arose a pitiful cry of anguish. Stolen, stolen, my fourth child has vanished as well. Somewhere high up in the sky, the weeping of an infant was heard, but whoever was taking it remained unseen. Arjuna unleashed a volley of arrows toward the sky, filling every direction with shafts, but the weeping gradually grew distant and then fell silent. The child vanished into the sky, body and all, from right amidst that cage. The greatest archer on earth had seen his most infallible armor shattered.

Then the brahmin, burning in the fire of wrath, reached Arjuna. What happened? You could not save them, could you? Had Govind been there, this outrage would never have occurred. Useless is your Gandiva, useless is your prowess, useless is your glory, Arjuna. Arjuna could not utter a word, but a fire burned within him, because keeping his word was his dharma, and seeing a promise broken was worse than death for him. He entered Yamaraja’s city of Samyamani, but the child was not there. Ransacking every corner from the depths of the netherworld to the ceiling of heaven, Arjuna scoured the entire creation, but the child was nowhere, absolutely nowhere. Arjuna returned empty-handed. Now only a single path remained for him, the very one he had chosen himself. He prepared his funeral pyre, closed his eyes, and took a step toward the fire.

Just then, stopping Arjuna, Krishna said, Arjuna, do not torment yourself in this manner. I will show you those children, and listen, these very people who are slandering us today will shortly spread our pristine glory. Krishna had the chariot prepared. Arjuna, you shall be the charioteer of this chariot today. Arjuna’s eyes filled with tears; he took hold of the reins, and the Lord Himself mounted his chariot. The chariot moved forward; mountains were left behind, rivers were left behind, dense forests were left behind, and then appeared the vast ocean. The surface of the ocean trembled, and a radiant form arose from it. The ocean itself, with folded hands and offering respectful oblations, stood before the chariot. Oh Keshav, oh ocean of compassion, what should I do? What is your command? Oh lord of rivers, grant a pathway to my chariot. If I do this, other kings, blinded by the pride of their strength, will also desire to cross this path. For my sake and for this brahmin, fulfill my vow. Restrain the turbulence of your waters just enough that my chariot may pass. The ocean bowed its head, the waters parted in two, and a gleaming pathway opened in the middle. The chariot raced upon it as if on solid ground. The chariot kept moving forward, across seven islands, seven oceans, and then Lokaloka, the final boundary of the universe. Beyond it lay that same dense darkness, that same chariot, the same hesitating horses, and Arjuna’s same trembling question: Keshav, where are you taking me? This time Krishna did not answer with words; He released the Sudarshana Chakra.

The brilliance of a thousand suns, racing at the speed of the mind, tore through that primordial darkness just as Rama’s arrow pierces an enemy army. The chariot now moved behind that discus. Arjuna could not see the entire path; he was simply following behind the light, and then the darkness fell away in an instant. Spread out before them was the infinite light of the Brahma Jyoti, so blinding that Arjuna’s eyes ached and he closed them. As the light subsided and his eyes opened, he beheld a form in the sky that filled him with dread, a colossal pillar of light shaped like a man, a figure made of white radiance so vast that it permeated all the worlds; neither its beginning nor its end was visible. This was not a mere shape; this was the very light of existence itself. And Krishna and Arjuna entered right into the radiance of that great being, and both witnessed the unfolding of numerous mysteries.

A churning ocean sparkling with fierce waves, and amidst those waves stood a palace illuminated by thousands of jeweled pillars. This was Vaikuntha. And within that palace rested the infinite, massive, white serpent Ananta Shesha, resembling Mount Kailash, bearing thousands of hoods, each hood glowing with a gem, and beneath the shelter of those hoods sat Mahavishnu Himself of dark complexion, possessing eight divine arms, surrounded by His divine energies—Pushti, Shri, and Kirti—standing with folded hands. And then Arjuna saw that which he could not believe his own eyes to witness: Krishna Himself, Krishna bowing His head before Mahavishnu. That very Lord who was paying respects to another Lord. Arjuna too, with trembling hands, joined his palms and bowed. Standing face to face, Mahavishnu smiled and spoke in a deep voice: The one who abducted those four children of the brahmin is none other than Myself. I brought these children here because I wished to see Krishna. Both of you are portions of My own self who have descended upon the earth to protect dharma. Once you have completed the eradication of the demons who have become a burden on the earth, you shall swiftly return to Me. Arjuna was stunned. Why was Lord Vishnu so eager to see a portion of Himself? And if He truly wished to see Krishna, why did He not simply go to Dwaraka for a vision? He is omnipresent, holding the entire universe in the palm of His hand like an amla fruit, yet He could not present Himself before Krishna. And then a truth dawned within Arjuna: Mahavishnu could not obtain a vision of Krishna because Krishna grants a vision of Himself to no one without His specific permission, not even to Mahavishnu. This clearly established that Sri Krishna’s divine status is even loftier than that of Mahavishnu. Mahavishnu is merely a portion of that Supreme One.

At that moment, Krishna turned toward him and spoke in a very soft, secret voice: Listen to a secret, Arjuna. The Supreme Lord did not steal these children because He had any need of them. He did all this so that I would come here. He was confident that Krishna would come to see Me solely to take the side of the brahmin. And I, Keshav, what is my place in all this? This seemed to be the Supreme Lord’s design, but I did not come here for the brahmin, my friend. If I had come for the brahmin, I would have gone straight to Vaikuntha the moment the very first child was snatched away. I came here solely for you, my friend, to show you who I truly am, and even more importantly, to shatter your ego—that brahmin, I am neither Sankarshana nor Krishna, nor the son of Krishna; I am the wielder of Gandiva, Arjuna. Do not underestimate my capability, which has already satisfied Lord Shiva Himself. Then Mahavishnu, with His radiant power, brought forth those four children.

The four children stood in those same tiny bodies, as though they had never been lost at all. Both paid their respects to Mahavishnu and returned to Dwaraka along the very same path with immense joy. And when they reached Dwaraka, Arjuna paused once more. Such an infinite journey beyond the universe and back, yet here, even the first watch of the day was not yet over. Time seemed to stand still, waiting for them. This is precisely what modern science terms time dilation, which was already present within our Sanatan Dharma. The brahmin received his four sons back, alive and smiling. The very brahmin who until yesterday cursed Arjuna now stood in silence with folded hands. Whatever power, whatever prowess, whatever glory I possessed, it was never truly mine; it was merely a single ray of light born of Krishna’s grace.