Chapter 36: The Day the Divine Spoke "Bhaiyaa"
The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon when Maharishi Rudra and his three disciples—Eklavya, Karna, and Ishita—arrived at the edge of a quiet village nestled on the banks of the Yamuna. The serene chirping of birds and the rustle of leaves in the soft wind announced that this place was untouched by the chaos of kingdoms and war. A land that felt... divine.
Gokul.
The very name carried a purity in its breath. It was here that the child incarnation of Lord Vishnu was growing up. Rudra, who had seen the wars of kings and the politics of royal courts, found himself breathing easier here. There was something magical about Gokul—something that made even the most hardened warriors smile.
"This will be the place," Rudra said, surveying the land.
Eklavya looked around in curiosity, "Guruvar, why here?"
Rudra smiled softly. "Because sometimes, to teach greatness, you must start from simplicity. Gokul is not just a village. It is destiny's playground. And... the divine himself has chosen this soil."
Just then, they heard the sound of conch shells and the joyous music of flutes and drums echoing from within the village. Villagers danced barefoot in the dust, women distributed sweets, and children chased each other with flower petals.
Rudra stopped a young boy skipping past them. "Child, what is this celebration?"
The boy grinned wide. "Nandlal's house has been blessed! A baby boy has been born to Yashoda Mata! The whole village rejoices! It is as if the stars themselves came down last night!"
Rudra's heart stirred.
He has taken birth…
He turned to his disciples and said, "Let's pay our respects."
They made their way to Nand Bhawan, but were stopped by the doormen. "The house is too full, Mahatmas. Please wait a little. So many guests have come."
Rudra nodded politely. "We shall wait."
Time passed slowly under the shade of a peepal tree. The villagers continued to stream in and out, their laughter ringing in the air. Rudra's disciples waited silently, observing how their Guru had the patience of time itself.
After a while, a regal-looking man dressed in fine cotton stepped out, giving instructions to the servants. When his eyes met Rudra's, he paused.
There was something unusual about the sage's aura.
The man approached respectfully. "Mahoday, forgive me. You've been waiting here… may I know your name?"
Rudra bowed slightly. "I am Rudra, a wandering Rishi. I came to settle nearby. But when I heard a child was born here, my heart moved me to visit. An inner voice urged me."
The man blinked, stunned. "R-Rudra? Maharishi Rudra?! The one spoken of in Akashvani? The Karma-Dharma Pathik?!"
Rudra smiled gently and nodded.
The man—Nand Maharaj himself—immediately folded his hands, overwhelmed. "Forgive me, O Great One! I didn't recognize you! Please, please come in. It is our good fortune that you've graced our home."
Inside the Bhawan, Yashoda sat beside a beautifully carved wooden cradle, glowing with maternal bliss. When Nand told her of the great sage's arrival, she quickly adjusted her veil and smiled with excitement.
Rudra stepped into the room, and time itself seemed to pause.
In the cradle, wrapped in fine blue cloth, lay a child. His skin had the shade of monsoon clouds, and even in sleep, there was a mysterious smile dancing on his lips. The atmosphere around him shimmered slightly, as if divinity itself was resting.
Rudra approached slowly, and for the first time in years, his breath caught. He knelt beside the cradle. His warrior-like strength vanished as he bowed his head and gently touched his forehead to the child's tiny feet.
"Pranam, Prabhu. I came to meet you first…"
He stayed there, head bowed for several moments, the disciples behind him watching with reverence. Then, carefully, he lifted the baby in his arms. The child stirred but did not cry. Instead, he looked at Rudra with half-closed eyes, still smiling, as if he recognized an old friend.
"He will be playful," Rudra said softly, "Mischievous and full of pranks. But he will teach the world love that expects nothing, friendship that breaks barriers, and leadership that doesn't rule by fear—but by heart."
Yashoda, enchanted by the sage's voice, whispered, "Will you… will you name him, Maharishi?"
Rudra looked at her, then at Nand, and then back at the child in his arms. "This child… shall be called Krishna."
A silence followed.
Then the villagers began clapping, and Yashoda's eyes filled with tears of joy. "Krishna," she repeated, "Yes… that's what he is… Krishna…"
As Rudra gently leaned forward to place the baby back in the cradle, he felt something tug at his hand.
He looked down.
The child—newborn, barely a day old—had caught his index finger with both his tiny hands. And in a voice as soft as clouds, as sweet as mango blossoms…
"Bhaiyaa…"
The entire room froze.
Nand gasped. Yashoda covered her mouth in shock. The villagers who had gathered near the doorway stared wide-eyed.
Even Rudra's disciples were stunned.
Karna whispered, "A newborn… spoke?"
Eklavya added, "Only one other in all of Bharatvarsha ever did… and that is…"
Ishita gasped, "Guruvar…"
Rudra stared at the child, his heart overwhelmed. The innocence, the love, the pure attachment in that one word...
Bhaiyaa.
Not "Guru." Not "Maharishi." Not even "Dev." But Bhaiyaa.
The tears he never let anyone see shimmered in his eyes. "So be it," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I am your Bhaiyaa."
He bent and kissed Krishna's forehead.
The moment was beyond divine. It was not a meeting of a sage and a god—it was the meeting of a big brother and his little divine sibling.
Outside, the sky had turned golden, the breeze cooler. The peepal tree under which they had waited danced in the wind as if whispering secrets to the earth.
From that day forth, Gokul would remember the name Rudra Bhaiyaa, the one who came not to teach Krishna, but to learn love from him.