Magic of Motherhood

No matter how much apprehensiveness pregnancy and labour pain brings her, a mother’s incessant, irrevocable, divine and selfless love for her baby will kill any negative thought directed thus. And when you watch that kind of love emitting from the lovely and soft eyes of a pregnant woman, you’ll actually feel kind of silly for being scared for the discomfort she will go through in later stages.

And when you actually feel the beautiful baby moving inside of her, you’re completely lost.

One of my older cousin sisters is seven months pregnant and we hosted a baby shower for her last week. Me and the other two of our little gang stayed with her for three whole days after that. And since this is the first time I’ve been around a pregnant mother for an extended period of time, I was incredibly fascinated. I don’t have a sharp recollection when my mother was carrying my brother, and the only memory I can think back to is when I watched the little monkey kicking from inside. There were irregular protrusions in her belly when he aimed according to his tiny mood. And she was laughing in adoration.

See? Magic. She doesn’t care about being kicked at all. Because it’s her baby. A gift from God.

Me and my closest sister were eagerly asking our mother-to-be darling to narrate her journey till date and she patiently told us what it felt like to have another heart fluttering inside of her. I curiously picked up her hand, since I’ve seen in movies how a doctor detects a double pulse, and gently pressed my fingers to the inside of her wrist. My stomach underwent several flips as I sensed the quick pulse next to the steady one. But the next thing I felt literally gave me goose bumps and made me squeak in happiness.

My sister was resting on the bed and she voluntarily wedged my hand between the mattress and her abdomen as she gently rolled over onto her side, my palm pressed against her tender stomach area. We kept quiet as I waited to feel something she wanted me to. Nothing happened for an entire thirty seconds, after which there was this incredible movement that danced across my palm. It was like a soft ball rolling in a smooth bag and the realisation that I just felt the baby’s head provoked a delighted squeal out of me. That was the very first time I’ve ever touched a pregnant mother’s belly and the first time I felt an amazing movement like that.

Me and my close sister took turns to feel that wonderful sensation again and again but the kid went to sleep soon. But whenever he/she played inside, my sister had an effervescent glow glorifying her warm eyes, silently displaying the ecstasy she was undergoing all the time. She knew about the daunting experience of giving birth and some prone side effects. But she was least bothered. This stunned me entirely.

Later when we sprawled on the beds to take an afternoon nap, my mind zoomed into a beautiful scene from the Mahabharata. A lot of things I see usually get linked with this epic that I adore fervently, and I will think about it.

The aforementioned scene is none other than the birth of Lord Krishna, which is no normal pregnancy.

Devaki and Vasudeva will be locked in the palace dungeons for eight years because Devaki’s devil of a brother, Kamsa, will plan to kill the eighth son of Devaki, who is prophesised to kill him to put an end to his atrocities invoked on the poor people of Mathura. He would have ruthlessly murdered the previous seven babies in front of her agonised eyes, screaming no blood of his dangerous sister should exist, and as her eighth pregnancy is anticipated by chewing on his nails every second of the day, Lord Vishnu resplendently enters the dungeon with an angelic smile on His lotus face, an aureole shining behind His majestic and divine form. Dressed in rich jewels and silk robes, with the famous Sudarshana Chakra spinning with the rage to destroy evil, He is a sight that can liberate the soul. Devaki’s woes are put to an end as He requests her to accept Him as a son, and floats into her womb.

 

Baby Krishna is born as the most beautiful child and as much as Devaki loves to cradle the cooing wonder in her lap forever with no interruption, she is forced to give him up for his own safety. Vasudeva takes him across the River Yamuna and delivers the child to his good friend Nanda, where Krishna is brought up with saturated love from Mother Yashoda.

It is always stated in the Mahabharata that even though Krishna was born to Devaki, he wishes for everyone to address him as Yashoda Nandana – which means ‘Son of Yashoda’. In the warm home of his foster parents, Krishna grows to be a funny and boisterous little boy as he finds pleasure in knocking down mud pots and stealing the butter within. Yashoda receives an earful from all the household matriarchs of the village because of it, but she never finds it in herself to tie him to a pole as a punishment for more than five minutes.

He wins over her with his hugs.

He wins over her with his kisses.

He wins over her with his calling of ‘Maaa …’

He wins over her by saying he sets the calves loose because they need the milk from their mother cows more than they do.

He wins over her by cuddling close to her every night.

He wins over her when she hears that the household matriarchs miss Krishna when he is a good boy, because on the days he doesn’t steal butter, the cows don’t secrete so much of milk.

He wins over her with his unconditional love.

Whenever I see any mother with her child, I always think of Yashoda and Krishna.

It’s heartbreaking when she is unable to let him go when he is a teenager. As he leaves Gokula to perform the duties he was born for the rest of the world, she is devastated and cries constantly. He wasn’t even her real child, but she would have forgotten that reality and showered him with a love double time the amount she would have done for the daughter Vasudeva takes back to Mathura in exchange on the night he brings Krishna.

And don’t worry, Kamsa wasn’t able to kill that girl child because she was actually Yogamaya, who shifts to her cosmic form when the devil throws her against the wall, and she presents him his death sentence before vanishing to her abode.

Krishna even displays his divine cosmic form to Yashoda one afternoon she chides him for eating mud. As she forces him to open his mouth to see that he wasn’t lying, she nearly faints from witnessing the entire universe twinkling from within. Krishna blesses his mother with emancipation.

Yashoda and Krishna are not any mother-son duo.

In my view, they incarnate all mothers and children in the world.

That is the magic of motherhood.

Jai Shree Krishna ❤

Lots of love,

Deepika