TEARS OF THE NEWBORN

     Trapped! Unsure of the world outside or woes beyond the four stone built walls Vasudeva and his wife Devaki stare blankly ahead. Their souls broken and heart crippled, their solace seemed to lie only in the wake of death. They were chained to opposite sides of the large room, Devaki’s leg to the bolted bed and Vasudeva’s neck and arm to the window a few yards away from his wife. They could only move as close to feel each other’s breaths, but never more. A hollow resentment formed at everything they saw, smelled, or heard. It had been six years since this imprisonment began. Each year another part of their soul burned and broke a little more. Each year Devaki would bear a child only for it to be taken away and killed by her brother Kamsa. Every year they would hope that their child would be born or escape in some way. They knew of the prophecy but they only questioned at what pain and what expense they and the infants had to go through. Their witness to an end to life so quickly and brutal it seemed that there was no reason to pray to the Gods above. As these thoughts bloomed in Devaki’s mind a sudden swelling enveloped in her stomach. She knew of this dreadful feeling six times before, and she knew another child was on the way. Vasudeva, chained to the other side of the room watched his wife’s eyes well up with tears once again, and he knew of the troubles that would come.

     Time passed, the belly had bloated and the baby’s first and last day was at hand. Devaki knew that the only time she would spend with the child would be the first breaths the babe would take from the cold hopeless world it was born in. The night grew dangerously cold, unusual for this time of year. Almost suddenly Devaki’s belly was shrunken and felt as if the baby had gone far away. She checked between her legs and there was no sign of the baby. A grumbling churned in her stomach and blood gushed out of her womanhood. It spilled all over her bed. Vasudeva’s knees buckled and screamed for help. The nurse who had been outside waiting to deliver the baby to Kamsa, rushed in to see the sight. Kamsa was alerted at once and he rushed over to see the state of his sister. He grabbed his sister’s hand and cried with her.

      “It will be all over soon, Devaki I am sorry for what I am and what I have and will do, but your child will kill me, therefore I must kill all the children that you bear to protect the kingdom. But know that for as long as I am alive I will let no one end your life,” Kamsa wept more by his sister’s side but Devaki was tired of the same explanation each time and she turned her head. She felt no pain; rather she felt a smooth release. She felt as if her body was calm and ready for more.

     “You coward!” screamed Vasudeva, “Do you not see what came out of her? Her child was nothing more than water gushing into the valley of the dead! Will you not release her from the chains? You will be responsible for your sister’s demise!

     “Hold your tongue, you common man. I am the ruler of the Vrishni, the lands surrounding Mathura and all those who reside under it. Under my command, I have conquered half the world and the people that bow down to me. You are only here to console and as a consort of my sister and I have every right to do what I must to secure the safety of my reign and my kingdom. Until then all your wife’s children will suffer the same fate as what happened today.”

     Kamsa paced slowly back to his quarters all the while thinking of what had happened. Something did not feel right about the events that had passed. The child was dead indeed he assured himself but it was different from the others. He had used his hands to end the cries of the newborns before, but this one was dead on its own. His thoughts angered him. How could the pool of blood render him dead? He laughed at these woes and entered his grand chamber. His wives waited and sheepishly asked why he was covered with blood. He eyes sharpened and pulse raced as he looked down to see his blood-soaked clothes. A king does not bleed, especially one of his stature. It must have been the blood baby. At once he retired to the bathhouse to cleanse himself. The blood did not leave his skin for hours. His eyes grew red not with sorrow or irritation but rather with pure rage.

     “The Gods may have marked my death, but I do not obey the creatures that stir trouble only to fix it later. I am the epitome of power and no God, man or creature can bring me down that is the gift I have been granted!” Kamsa was still troubled so he ordered multiple guards to be posted around the room of his sister and brother-in-law. He would personally greet the next miracle child.