-| Shreya's Mythological OS collection |- - Page 2

The night was dark, there was no movement outside. The silence was punctuated by the claps of thunder that rang loudly. Devaki and Vasudeva sat in the dungeon, in the silence, and damp and cold.

"Lord? Devaki's voice was soft, but in the silence of the dungeons, Vasudeva heard her clearly. He sat up and looked at her.

"Devaki? he said, softly. His eyes took in her delicate frame, weakened by the years of imprisonment. The once lively eyes now dull after losing so many children. His heart hurt, seeing her in this state.

"How would our sons be? I know Rohini would be caring for them.

He almost smiled. Almost. His two youngest sons. The only ones they hadn't lost to the tyrant Kamsa. The only ones who had survived. The elder one, who had been transported from Devaki to Rohini's womb, because they had been scared of losing him. The younger, the incarnation of Swayam Narayana, who he had taken in the dead of the night to his friend in Gokul, Nanda.

"They will be fine, he said, his voice sounding alien to his own ears. They both heard bits and pieces of the lives of their children, Krishna and Balarama, from the guards outside. They claimed that both children were Godsends, though they spoke of the younger more.

Vasudeva laughed internally. He wasn't a Godsend, his Krishna. He was God Himself. And Rama was the Eternal Serpent, born to be the protector. The tales of how Krishna had killed the demoness Pootana, among many others, had reached him.

"Swami? Devaki's voice interrupted his thoughts. He shuffled closer. Well, as close as the chains and shackles would allow him to, at any rate.

"My love?

"I miss them. The whispered words were almost lost in the violent clap of thunder that broke the silence of the night.

The two of them slipped into silence, each thinking of that night, so many years ago, when their youngest son, Krishna, was born.

The night was stormy, thunder, lightning, torrents of rain. The moon was hidden in the clouds, but there was a bright light in the prison where the King of Mathura, Kamsa, had imprisoned his sister and her husband.

The shackles were undone, for a change, for it was nearly time for Devaki to give birth to their youngest son. Vasudeva was scared. He feared for the life of this child. The child of the prophecy. The reason they were in the prison in the first place.

On the day of their wedding, there had been a prophecy that the eighth and last child of the newly married couple would be the slayer of the tyrant. A fuming Kamsa had ignored the protests of his sister and brother in law, and imprisoned them in the dungeons.

The first six children had been killed almost immediately after they were born. Their seventh child had been transported from Devaki's womb to his other wife, Rohini's. The eighth child. Krishna.

The night grew steadily stormier, the rain incessant, and the clouds grew closer. Their son, their ray of hope, was almost there. Just as Devaki was giving up hope, a bright light shone, illuminating the dreary dungeon.

Devaki and Vasudeva blinked in shock, before sinking to their knees. For, before them, was none other than Swayam Narayana.

Vasudeva sighed. He wished with all his heart that he could hold his son in his arms. He knew Devaki wanted the same.

"I have heard, she said, softly, interrupting him from his musings. "I have heard a lot about his exploits.

"I know. Our son is Narayana Himself, I would expect no less.

"Do you think He knows about us? she asked, almost fearing the answer. Though she loved and trusted not only Rohini, but also Yashoda and her Nanda Bhaiyya, both of whom she had met on multiple occasions, she feared her sons would grow up not knowing about her.

"I am almost sure that both our sons do. Both Rama and Krishna. If he knew Nanda at all, he was sure that they knew stories of both the parents, apart from knowing about Kamsa.

He slipped into his thoughts once more. Would they come? He knew that they would have to at some point. When, he didn't know, how, he didn't. But he knew that they would come.

Devaki was thinking along the same lines. Her sons were already famous. So famous, that even the guards of their prison talked of them, almost in awe. She wished she could see them, at least once.

Her heart broke, giving up her sons, watching the first six die, and the next two taken away from her. But it was safer, safer this way. Safer without them. She knew that He had a plan, that He would come for them. She feared for His life. Even though He was Narayana, she was His mother.

Her eyes filled with tears as she thought of them. She was missing their childhood, their innocence, their formative years. A ripple of regret ran through her. Was it right to give her son up? Send him so far that she could have only a glimpse of him is so many years?

Then she shook herself. She could not risk her sons' lives, both of theirs, the lives of the thousands of people who had pinned their hopes onto them, for her motherly love. No, she was a mother, but she was also a woman of substance.

No, she would do what was right, right for the kingdom, for the people. As she thought this, a sudden warmth spread through her, despite the chilly weather outside. She knew she had made the right decision.