This form represents him peculiarly as the god of the gopīs. Gopī, the wife of a cowherd, and Nat’hŭ, a lord; a young man dancing amongst the wives of the cowherds, the 16,000 gopīs, who ever attended him, and were the companions of his sports.
RADHA KRISHN.
Of all his numerous loves and wives, none had power over his affections equal to Radha, a gopī, whom he carried off from her husband. So great was her influence, that in pūja the preference is given to her, and the two images are worshipped together as “Radha Krishn,” and not as Krishn Radha.
The figure represents the god playing on his flute; and, at his side, the image of Radha, which has one hand extended, and the other turned downwards. Their affection has passed into a proverb: “Apne Radha ko yad ker[19].” As Krishnŭ always thought of Radha, so they say, “Attend to your own Radha,” either in anger or laughingly. The shrine of Radha Krishn has many worshippers; but it is remarkable that none of the lawful wives of Krishnŭ are worshipped with him.
Another figure of Kaniyā-jee in my possession, represents him under a tree playing on his flute; at the back is one of the cows of the sacred herd, whom Krishnŭ attended, for by caste he was a gaōwalla, or cowherd.
Of all the images in my collection the most remarkable is a brazen one, in which this god is represented killing a serpent by crushing it with his foot. The Hindoos affirm there is enmity between the serpent and Krishnŭ. His having his foot on the head of the cobra di capello, which is evident from the expanded hood, is singular, as few Hindoos would kill the holy serpent. This similarity between the Saviour and Krishnŭ is considered by Maurice as worthy of remark.
A sketch of this idol is given, fig. 3, in the plate entitled “[Jugunnathu],” where, as the destroyer of Kali-nag, “The black serpent,” which infested the blue waters of the Yamuna or Jumna, he is represented as bruising him with his foot. He had, however, many battles with his adversary ere he conquered him.
The following extract is very poetical:—“One day, in Dwaraka, which is a second Vaicontha, Creeshna was enjoying himself with his relations, and sons, and grand-children, and his 16,000 wives, and all his wealth: his elephants, his horses, his carriages without number, were arranged in order. In the midst of his golden castle extended his apartments on all the four sides. His gardens were of golden earth, wherein were trees of Paradise full of variegated fruits. Peacocks, and cocelas (Indian nightingales), and other birds, were sporting therein. Creeshna, on that day, was surrounded by his 16,000 wives, as lightning with a cloud, and they gathered innumerable flowers as offerings to Creeshna, like the Devatas presenting flowers to Eendra; and, in all the licence of joy, they and Creeshna were sporting together, and throwing flowers at each other. In the garden was a river, whose banks were all gold and jewels, the water of which, from the reflections of rubies, appeared red, though perfectly white; it was the water of life; and thousands of lotuses floated on its surface, among which innumerable bees were humming and seeking their food. In this river they bathed and played, Creeshna always in the midst of them. At length, in the very height of all their revels and enjoyments, he suddenly disappeared! His principal wives, which were the eight nayega, remained for some time in profound astonishment: then they all burst out into the most passionate exclamations, crying, ‘Whither is he gone?’ One demanded of the birds if they had seen him, wondering they could sing until he returned. Another asked of the four-footed beasts why they made such loud moanings, as if Creeshna had left and deceived them too. One addressed the sea, ‘Thou ocean! who art night and day roaring, hath not Creeshna taken thy fourteen reten, or precious things, also, as well as our hearts, and is it not therefore thou grievest?’ Another addressed the moon, ‘O thou lord of the stars! why dost not thou draw on the world the veil of darkness? Art thou not affected by his absence? at which every one must be heartless, like us wretched creatures, who know not what is our fault to be thus forgotten and forsaken.’ Another spake to the passing clouds, ‘Ye, too, are impressed with the colour and figure of Creeshna; and, as he has taken his departure, so ye also are ever on the wing; and ye, like us mourning for his absence, overspread every quarter with gloom.’”
In the chapter entitled Jugunnathu will be found an account of the death of Krishnŭ, and the effect it produced upon the eight nayega and the 16,000 gopīs.