Krishna and Akrura - The Terror of Taking God

The chariot stood waiting. Akrura sat in it, unable to make himself move. He had been sent to bring Krishna to Mathura—to bring the child he loved to a tyrant who would kill him.

Krishna: "You've been sitting there for an hour."

Akrura jumped. Krishna stood beside the chariot, already sixteen years old, with a smile that said he knew exactly what Akrura was struggling with.

Krishna: "I can't do it, I can't take you to Kansa."

Akrura: "Then who will?"

Krishna: "Anyone else. Someone who doesn't love you. Someone who doesn't know what he's doing."

Akrura: "And if that someone takes me less carefully? Warns me less clearly? Protects me less fiercely? I need someone who will do this reluctantly. Eagerness in this task would be dangerous."

Krishna: "You're asking me to deliver you to your death."

Akrura: "I'm asking you to drive me to my destiny. There's a difference."

Krishna: "I don't see it."

Akrura: "Destiny has choices. Death is an ending. I am not driving toward an ending, Akrura. I am driving toward a beginning."

Akrura looked at the boy—the god—sitting beside him.

Krishna: "You're certain? That you'll survive?"

Akrura: "I'm certain that what happens in Mathura needs to happen. Whether I survive... Does it matter?"

Krishna: "It matters to me!"

Akrura: "Why?"

The question stopped Akrura.

Krishna: "Because... because you're Krishna. Because you're the hope of everyone who suffers under Kansa. Because if you die, everything good dies with you."

Akrura: "Everything good? I am not everything good, Akrura. I am one manifestation of good in one time and place. If I die, good will manifest elsewhere. It always does. It cannot be killed permanently."

Krishna: "That's cold comfort."

Akrura: "Truth often is. But let me give you warmer comfort. I am not going to Mathura to die. I am going to Mathura to kill. Kansa has oppressed his people long enough. His own relatives live in fear. His city groans under injustice. Tomorrow, that ends."

Krishna: "You're certain?"

Akrura: "I am certain of my intention. Outcomes are always uncertain. That's what makes them meaningful."

Akrura finally picked up the reins. His hands were shaking.

Krishna: "What should I tell Kansa? When he asks about you?"

Akrura: "Tell him the truth. That I am coming. That I am eager to meet him. That I hold no fear of his power. And watch his face when you say it. Tyrants are most afraid when their targets are not afraid."

Krishna: "He'll suspect a trap."

Akrura: "Good. Let him suspect. Let him double his guards and triple his precautions. Fear is exhausting. By the time I arrive, he'll have worn himself out with anticipating me."

The chariot began to move. Akrura's hands steadied as they rolled toward Mathura.

Krishna: "I have one more question."

Akrura: "Ask."

Krishna: "Why did you agree to come? You could have refused. You could have raised an army in Vrindavan. You didn't have to walk into his palace."

Akrura: "Because sometimes evil must be ended in its own house. Running from Mathura made sense when I was a baby—I had no power to fight. Now I have power. Using it to hide would be cowardice. Kansa deserves to be killed in the throne room he has bloodied. His victims deserve to see it happen in the place of their oppression."

Krishna: "And if you fail?"

Akrura: "Then I fail. And someone else finishes what I started. Either way, Kansa's end is coming. I merely prefer to be the instrument."

Akrura smiled despite himself.

Krishna: "You prefer it."

Akrura: "I do. Is that wrong? To enjoy doing what's right? To look forward to ending injustice?"

Krishna: "I thought righteousness was supposed to be somber."

Akrura: "Righteousness is supposed to be effective. Somber or joyful, as the situation demands. Today, it demands joy. Tomorrow, Mathura will be free. That's worth smiling about."

They drove on, toward the city, toward the tyrant, toward whatever tomorrow would bring.