Krishna and Kalia

Long ago, in the village of Vrindavan, there flowed a river called the Yamuna. In one part of the river lived a terrible many-headed serpent named Kaliya. His poison was so strong that the water around him turned black and bubbling, and no bird could fly over that spot without falling dead. The trees near the bank had withered, and the cows and children of the village had to stay far away.

One day, while playing with his friends, a ball rolled into the river — right into Kaliya's poisoned pool. Without a moment's fear, young Krishna climbed a tree, jumped high into the air, and dove straight into the dark water to fetch it.

The moment he touched the water, Kaliya sensed an intruder in his home. Furious, the giant snake rose up, wrapping his coils around Krishna and hissing with all his heads at once. On the riverbank, Krishna's friends and family watched in horror, sure they were about to lose him.

But Krishna was not an ordinary boy. He grew and grew, becoming heavier and heavier, until Kaliya could barely hold him. Then Krishna leaped onto the hoods of the snake and began to dance — lightly, joyfully, tapping out a rhythm with his feet. The more he danced, the weaker Kaliya became, crushed under the weight of each step.

Just as Kaliya was about to give up, his wives came swimming up and begged Krishna for mercy, saying their husband had learned his lesson. Krishna, who was kind as well as brave, stopped dancing. He told Kaliya that he must leave the Yamuna river forever and go live far away in the ocean, so the water could become clean again and no one would be harmed by his poison.

Kaliya, humbled and grateful to be spared, bowed to Krishna and swam away with his family, never to trouble Vrindavan again.

The river ran clear once more. The birds returned, the trees grew green again, and the people of Vrindavan celebrated their brave little Krishna who had saved them all.