KRISHNA LEELA
It was a traditional practice,
To perform a sacrifice,
To Indra, the Lord of Rain,
For their agricultural gain.
Krishna asked His father,
Why at all he should bother,
And worship Indra, a Demigod,
When there was a Supreme God.
The result of one’s action,
Came as its own reaction,
So, unless one was active,
No result would be fruitive.
If one was more attentive,
In their duties positive,
The result he would find,
The good one at the end,
It was the mountain,
That caused the rain,
With its majestic peak tall,
It bent the clouds to fall.
It was better to worship,
And seek its friendship,
The great Govardhana Hill,
That helped the rainfall.
In this way He spoke,
Indra not to invoke,
To bring down his ego,
His offerings to forego.
His father was hesitant,
But as He was insistent,
The hill became their worship.
They ignored Indra’s Lordship.
Lord Indra who got annoyed,
Planned the city be destroyed.
Torrential rains he sent there,
Flooding the places everywhere.
Krishna, waited no longer,
Presto, with his little finger,
The Govardhana Hill He lifted,
Like a giant umbrella gifted.
Then every living creature,
That came under this shelter,
For a week lived in His care,
Happy and gay, with no fear.
Their lives were thus saved,
The bad weather they braved,
By Krishna’s mighty power,
That kept Indra in shiver.
This way Indra was humbled.
With it, his ego got tumbled.
He withdrew the downpour,
Into pieces the clouds tore.
Down he came from his extreme,
And surrendered to the Supreme,
For pardon, he prayed at His feet,
And he accepted his total defeat.
A place of worship even today
The rocks of Govardhana stay,
Small rocks, devotees pick up,
As a keepsake for daily worship.
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