তোমারে বধিবে যে, গোকুলে বাড়িছে সে।" The storm brewed that night over the dark waters of the Yamuna. The waning moon hid behind the thundering grey clouds that covered the skyline of Mathura, hovering over the palace and the tides ebbed and flowed, crashing against the stone walls of the Vrishni fort of the Bhojapatis that held Kamsa's fate captive. Shackled by fate, freed by divine intervention, Yadava Vasudeva knew he had to save the newborn son, his eighth infant with Devaki, Kamsa's sister before the king killed the child. Little did he know, in his arms, wailed not a fragile baby but a divine Avatar of Lord Vishnu, ready to change the course of destiny. But the Yamuna raged that night in the calamity. It looked as if some kind of an apocalypse was coming the way of Mathura. In the incessant rainfall, he waded through the water of the Yamuna, rising to his neck, his hand over his head, firmly holding the basket where he placed the newborn. Worried that the rain lashe...