84 Vaishnav Story 83 Kumbhandasji

Kumbhanadas grew up in a quiet village called Yamuna Vatah. From a young age, he never cared for the busy life of the world. He loved being truthful and stayed away from anything wrong. When he was a young man, he got married. His wife was not deeply connected to Shri Krishna's pastimes, but because of her closeness to Kumbhanadas, she too became pure.

One day, Shri Krishna appeared in a vision to Shri Mahaprabhuji as He stayed in the southern town of Jarakund. Shri Krishna said, "I am now at Govardhan Hill. Come and establish My worship for the world to see."

Hearing this, Shri Mahaprabhuji traveled with five dear disciples to Braj. When they reached Govardhan Hill, he began serving Shri Nathji. Many local people started following him with love and devotion.

When Kumbhanadas heard about the arrival of a great saint, he told his wife, "Let us go to Anyor and take shelter of Shri Mahaprabhuji." His wife agreed and thought to herself, "Perhaps this holy man will bless me so I may have children."

Together they went and bowed before Shri Mahaprabhuji. Kumbhanadas said softly, "I have wandered for so long. Please bless me with Your grace."

Because Kumbhanadas was a divine soul, he could see the true spiritual form of Shri Mahaprabhuji. The guru gave initiation to the couple. His wife humbly asked, "Please bless me to have children."

Shri Mahaprabhuji smiled and said, "Do not worry. You will have seven children."

Later, Kumbhanadas asked his wife gently, "Why did you ask for that? You could have asked for the Lord Himself." She replied, "You ask for what you wish, and I asked for what I desired."

Shri Mahaprabhuji built a small hut for Shri Nathji at the top of Govardhan Hill and gave the service of worship to Ramdasji. The local villagers, including Kumbhanadas, were told, "Shri Nathji is everything to us. Serve Him well. Only take prasad after seeing Him."

Shri Mahaprabhuji knew Kumbhanadas had a sweet voice and asked him to sing every day for Shri Nathji. One morning, after waking Shri Nathji, he asked, "Kumbhanadas, sing something about Shri Krishna’s pastimes."

Kumbhanadas sang a song so beautiful that it touched everyone’s hearts. He always sang about the intimate play of Shri Radha and Shri Krishna. Every day, he walked from his village to the temple to sing for Shri Nathji. Shri Nathji Himself would reveal His divine form to Kumbhanadas and even speak with him lovingly.

One day, a musician sang one of Kumbhanadas’s songs before Emperor Akbar at his palace in Fatehpur Sikri. The emperor was enchanted. "Who has seen the Lord so closely to compose such words?" he asked.

The musician replied, "It was written by Kumbhanadas. He lives near Govardhan Hill."

Akbar sent many men with grand vehicles to bring Kumbhanadas to his court. But Kumbhanadas was working in his fields near Chandra Lake. When the emperor’s men found him, they said, "The emperor commands your presence."

Kumbhanadas replied calmly, "I am a simple servant of Shri Krishna. I have no business with kings."

They begged, "Please come, or the emperor may punish us."

Kumbhanadas finally agreed but said firmly, "I will not ride in a chariot or on a horse. I will walk."

So he walked in his torn shirt and ragged shoes to the palace. Akbar greeted him and asked, "Sing some of your poems about the Lord."

Kumbhanadas thought, "I cannot sing of Shri Krishna in front of this man who separated me from my Beloved. I will sing something that shows my heart."

He sang:

What joy is there for me in Sikri? My shoes wore out on this path, And I forgot the name of Hari. I bow before a face that pains my eyes. Says Kumbhanadas, Without Shri Krishna, This whole place is empty.

Hearing the song, Akbar was silent. He felt a mix of anger and awe. But instead of punishing Kumbhanadas, he said, "Ask for any gift."

Kumbhanadas answered, "Never call me here again."

As he walked back to Shri Nathji, he felt an aching longing to see Him. When he finally reached the temple, seeing Shri Krishna’s face wiped away all his sorrow. Shri Nathji said with love, "Kumbhanadas, you cannot live without Me, and I too cannot be without you."

One day, great saints from Vrindavan like Shri Hita Harivamshji and Shri Haridasji came to meet Kumbhanadas. They said, "We have heard your songs of Shri Radha and Shri Krishna, but never one about Shri Swaminiji alone. Will you sing for us?"

Kumbhanadas sang a gentle song about Shri Swaminiji’s beauty. The saints were amazed. "We have compared her face to the moon, but you have compared it to billions of moons. No one has expressed her beauty like this."

Kumbhanadas once asked Shri Mahaprabhuji about the secrets of the Path of Grace. Shri Mahaprabhuji kindly explained the eighty-four signs of different devotees, how to perform seva throughout the day, and the moods of Shri Krishna’s childhood pastimes.

Years passed, and Kumbhanadas grew weak. One day, sitting near Sankarshan Lake below Shri Nathji’s temple, his son Chaturbhujadas asked, "Shall I carry you home?"

Kumbhanadas said softly, "Let me rest here. I will leave this body soon."

Chaturbhujadas went to the temple and informed Shri Gusainji. Shri Gusainji hurried to Kumbhanadas and asked, "Where is your mind resting now?"

Kumbhanadas, unable to speak, sang a final heartfelt song. Then, with his mind fixed on Shri Krishna, he left his body and entered the Lord’s eternal pastimes.

Shri Gusainji quietly returned to the temple. Ramdasji asked, "What has happened?"

Shri Gusainji said with deep respect, "A great devotee has left this world."

Kumbhanadas’s life was truly a shining example of love and surrender.

Poem: The Song of Kumbhanadas

Kumbhanadas sang with a heart so bright, Walking to Shri Nathji from morning till night. Akbar called him, but he did not stay, For his heart longed for Shri Krishna each day.

He sang of Swaminiji’s beauty divine, Of Shri Radha and Krishna whose love did shine. In his final hour, he sang once more, And walked into Shri Krishna’s loving shore.

Children, remember this gentle song, Stay close to the Lord, you’ll never go wrong.

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