Now listen further, all of you, as I tell what happened next. Dharma's elder son, the renowned Shri Ramapratap,
had his marriage arranged with great love and in fine manner; he was married to a beautiful woman named Suvasini, in the house of Baldev.
Of fine virtue and beauty, and of chaste, devoted character, Suvasini served her husband lovingly and with great affection.
Then, as the second year began, they held a joyful celebration; for the child's wellbeing, they honored the gods and sages.
With love they worshipped mighty Hanuman, Vyasa, and Kripacharya as well, Ashwatthama, Vibhishana too, Markandeya and Parashuram --
all of these they worshipped in various ways, with the sixteen forms of ritual offering. They fed the Brahmins and the devotees of Hari, gave gifts, and were pleased.
For the child's sake they performed many rites, holding great affection for all their kin. As two years passed thus, the third year came.
On the fifth day of the dark half of Jyeshtha, which pleased the parents and the astrologer, the family custom was performed that day, and the child's hair was ceremonially cut.
A great celebration was held that day, and Brahmins and devotees of Hari were invited. In the midst of these preparations, the mother had forgotten to keep watch over her son.
She herself remained busy feeding the guests, and gave the child to others to look after. Other children took him along to see a beautiful, fruitful garden.
There they saw many sweet fruits -- guava, custard-apple, coconut, and fine pomegranates, and they ate mangoes there as well.
Jambu, lime, and lovely wild-berries, ripe and juicy gunda and karamda fruits, grapes, dates, and fine khirni fruits -- all the children stayed to gather them.
They seated Hari beneath a tree, and the children wandered among all the trees. As the day drew to a close, at that very time a demon appeared.
A deceitful one named Kalidatta, a demon who had once been human, transformed himself to look like a child, so that none could recognize him.
He came and began playing among them, while inwardly intent on tormenting Hari. Having sent the kritya-spirits before, his anger still burned, seeking to settle the score.
A poor wretch, filled inside with murderous intent, deceitful and full of guile, this wicked one. He played with the children for a long while, and then spread forth his boundless illusory power (maya).
His eyes turned red at once, his body swelled and grew hideous. His mouth gaped open as though tearing the very sky, his tongue stretched out twenty arm-lengths long.
He gnashed his teeth in great fury, this evil-minded one, coming to kill Krishna. He grew exceedingly hideous and terrifying, and all the children, seeing him, grew afraid.
He stretched out his arms at once, to seize and bring death to the child. Then the Lord cast a sideways glance, looking upon the demon Kalidatta.
By this the wicked one's body burned with pain, and the demon grew enraged. He conjured a demonic illusion, and clouds gathered as the wind rose.
A storm arose, and darkness fell with it, and great flashes of lightning came. Thunder crashed terribly, and bolts of lightning struck again and again.
Rain poured down without measure, and great floods spread over the earth. The rain poured in torrents, and by the force of the wind trees fell.
Birds with broken wings fell to the ground, and herds of deer grew bewildered. A great calamity arose, and a hostile night fell in the midst of it all.
Greatly frightened by this disturbance, the children fled elsewhere at once. Hari had been seated beneath the mango tree, and no true news of him remained.
The cold set in and their bodies trembled, and in the darkness of night nothing could be seen. Such was the illusion the demon spread, intent on killing Hari.
He turned his gaze about, searching everywhere, and saw Hari seated beneath the mango tree. Then he rose into the sky and came down upon the mango tree.
As though a peak of the Himalaya had broken off and fallen upon a hermit's hut, so fell the wretched demon, and by his impact the tree broke and fell.
Beneath it the child remained seated, and not a single hair of his was harmed. As he had remained beneath Govardhan mountain, so he remained beneath that tree.
The wind, rain, and lightning -- their power to harm was undone, and he remained unmoving as a mountain; the demon achieved nothing at all.
Then the demon, in fury, went to seize Hari with his hand. Then the Lord cast a sideways glance, and the demon was overcome with delusion and fell to the ground.
He fell unconscious and grew agitated, forgetting all awareness of his own body. Losing his senses, he wandered the forest, where the fierce wind still raged.
By its force, falling trees crushed him, and he died, pinned beneath them like a beast. As one who cuts open a snake's basket wakes the serpent, which then kills the very mouse that provoked it --
as one who cuts the branch he sits upon falls into a well and dies at once -- as a spider, delighting in its own web, meets its death within that same web --
so he died within his own illusion, the sinner destroyed by his own sin. The demon died, and his illusion vanished, and the fierce wind and lightning ceased.
Then all the children found peace, and turned to look for Krishna. When they did not find him near them, they grew greatly distressed.
Then they cried out, calling: wherever you are, answer us, O joy-giving one! They called out again and again, searching, but could not find him though they searched every tree.
Then, forgetting all care for their own safety, they cried: O Krishna! O Hari, dear child! So calling, they searched everywhere, but could not find the Lord of their life.
Then the children grew distraught, weeping and wringing their hands in anguish. They said, from where did we bring him here? What shall we say now, going back to the village?
What shall we tell his mother and father? What answer shall we give to anyone else? We have no face left to show -- see what deed we have done.
So they spoke among themselves, and word of it reached the village. Men's left limbs began to twitch, such ill omens began to appear.
Women's right limbs twitched, and all their hearts sank with dread. Then Bhakti said, my son -- who has carried him outside?
Search quickly and find news of him -- without her son, the mother has gone half-mad with grief. Dharma too grew distraught, and fainted, falling to the ground.
Then all the people gathered together, and mourned greatly for the child. They said, the children had gone to the garden, and these foolish ones took him along.
Then men and women set out to search, lighting many lanterns. They took sticks, swords, and bows, and came to where the mango tree stood.
The mother and father stumbled as they walked, overcome with the grief of separation from their son. At that very moment, twelve of Dharma's celestial attendant women came together near Hari.
Knowing him to be their own child, they all took him upon their laps, and nursed him with deep love. To fulfill his mother's own longing, the dark one took on twelve forms at once.
At that moment, the villagers, searching, all arrived there, men and women together. They said, we had left the children together here, beneath this very tree.
But see, the tree itself lies broken and fallen -- seeing this, they all grew afraid. They said, wherever such a tree has fallen, the children there cannot possibly be safe.
Grieving in their hearts, they came near that tree to look. Then the twelve divine women, Shraddha and the rest, having set down the child, quietly withdrew.
Searching, the child's aunt found the Lord, and placed him into Bhakti's hands. Having regained her son, the mother rejoiced, and gave her sister-in-law a pearl necklace.
Then she nursed her son with love, knowing that a new incarnation had indeed come. Then, as they turned to look at the garden and the tree, they saw the dead body of the demon lying there.
Then they asked the child about it, and the child told them the whole account. He said, this one had come to kill me -- who knows how it happened as it did.
Then all were filled with amazement -- what a great obstacle has passed! Then, as the moon rose, they returned home, and Bhakti and Dharma spoke thus:
They said, this is certainly Shri Krishna himself -- without him, this demon could not have died. When the demon Kalidatta died, they knew that all danger had passed.
This child is truly almighty, and shall grant happiness -- embracing him to their hearts, they set aside their sorrow. Whatever human understanding they had held of Hari before, that now fell away, and they came to regard their son as truly divine.
Then, knowing this obstacle to have passed, they performed readings, worship, and acts of charity and merit. They performed the sacraments due for the child, by which they grew ever more resplendent.
Thus ends the nineteenth chapter, named 'Ghanshyam Maharaj's Destruction of Kalidatta,' in the Bhaktachintamani composed by the disciple Nishkulanand Muni of Shri Sahajanand Swami, propagator of the path of Ekantik Dharma.