Young Krishna had been invited to Mathura by his uncle King Kansa. It was Krishna's first time in the city but the tales of his deeds had already spread throughout the land and the people were anxious and excited to see him. The prophecy - that Krishna would rid the world of tyrants and oppressors (especially Kansa) - was an open secret and the people rushed from their houses for a glimpse of the savior.
Everywhere he went he was assailed by people who greeted him and followed him around, adoring masses of people.
"He is so handsome, like Kamdev, the God of Desire!" The young women said. "He will be the greatest of lovers."
"He is so strong and powerful!" The men said. "He will vanquish all the wicked."
"He is the Lord himself," the sages said. "He has come to grant us liberation."
"He is so sweet, like a small child," the older ladies said. "He will fill our lives with joy."
Each of the people, according to their own hearts desires, saw in him the summation of their dreams.
But there was one who didn't rush to follow him when she saw him early that day. She stayed far behind the crowds, in the shadows, making no effort to go closer to him.
That afternoon, Krishna and his brother Balaram, after spending many hours greeting all the people, nipped down some alleyways and managed to lose the people following them. They needed a break from the crowds and, in particular, Krishna had someone he wanted to meet without everyone watching. As he and Balaram walked down the lane, they spotted her. She was the one who had stayed in the shadows earlier, running away the moment there was a gap in the crowd.
She was young but appeared old. A hunchback, with half of her body bending forwards and one hand on her back to ease the ache, she was awkward and misshapen. Her hair was frizzy, her skin dark and mottled, and her nose was large and crooked, like a hag in a nightmare. In one hand, she carried a plate of sandalwood paste. The sweet scent of that sandalwood paste drifted down the street towards Krishna. Krishna looked at his brother and smiled. Balaram smiled back and they strolled down the lane towards the woman.
"Sundari," Krishna called, moving to stand in her path. He had a mischievous glint in his eye.
"Sundari," he said, repeating the word that meant beautiful woman, "will you give me some of your sandalwood paste?"
The hunchback woman looked at him in affront. Then, without saying a word she tried to edge around the side and escape but Krishna moved quickly to corner her.
"Where are you going, Sundari? Not away! You have not yet given me any sandalwood."
Her face was covered in a red hot flush. Again she tried to move away. Again Krishnablocked her path. Finally, she glared at him. "Why do you stop me?"
He gave her an innocent look. "I asked you for some sandalwood. You have not yet done me the curtsy of answering my request."
"I make this sandalwood for the king!" She snapped. "You cannot have it."
He gave her a wicked smile, so handsome he outshone the moon and the stars. "Can you not spare just a little? For me, sweet Sundari?"
Kubja looked at Krishna and her heart flipped over, as it had flipped over that morning when she'd first seen him. He was so beautiful. She'd never seen anyone so beautiful as he. She couldn't even glance at the other boy because Krishna so thoroughly commanded her gaze. "Are you not the one they call Krishna?" She asked.
"I am Krishna."
"They say you are gracious and compassionate. They say you protect the weak and destroy the wicked. That is why I never expected this cruelty from you." He gaped at her.
"What cruelty?" Krishna said.
"You are cruel. You call me Sundari!" (beautiful)
"That is what you are."
"No. I am not a sundari. I am ugly. I am a hunchback. People turn from me in horror. Little children throw stones at me. All my life I've been tormented by boys who've mocked me, never knowing how they cut me inside. But I never expected such cruelty from you, Krishna. You are supposed to be kind." Tears filled her eyes.
"Sundari," Krishna said with a tender voice. "I only spoke the truth."
"Still you mock me!"
"No, I never lie."
Shaking her head, weeping, Kubja again tried to move around him but again he blocked her.
"When I look at you," Krishna told her, "I see a lady who never covets anything. One who helps others but asks for nothing in return. I see a lady who is scorned and hurt but never thinks of getting revenge on those who hurt her. I see a lady who is unselfish, kind, free of malice. One whose heart is pure in every way. I see a beautiful woman."
Throughout his words, Kubja gazed at him, disbelieving, overwhelmed by the force of his beauty. That he would look at her, care for her, when she was nothing - she didn't understand it. "How do you know about me?" she whispered.
"I know everything about you, Kubja. I am the one who walks with you each day. I am the one who lies with you at night. I am the one who resides in your heart. And I see you. I am your Krishna, Kubja. Do you not recognize me?"
Her breath caught in her throat. "My Krishna?"
He took her hand in his. "Your Krishna."
This time when her eyes filled with tears, they were tears of joy. The feel of her hand in his, their gazes meeting, Kubja was so in love she couldn't stand it. She lifted up the plate of sandalwood paste she had made after hours and hours of grinding. In all of Mathura she made the best sandalwood which is why she was the supplier to the king. But she didn't care about the king anymore. Ever since she had seen Krishna that morning she had thought only of him. His face had been in her thoughts as she'd ground the sandalwood, his name in her mind as she'd worked tirelessly. "I made this for you," she whispered to Krishna. He smiled sweetly. "Will you apply it for me?"
Unable to believe that he would allow her to touch him, Kubja took some sandalwood on her fingers and smoothed the cooling paste on Krishna's forehead. It would protect him from the sun and provide a lovely woody scent throughout the day. Her hand shook as she touched his brow. He held out his arms, asking for more and she smoothed the paste over his perfect arms and shoulders and chest, cooling him. She used up all of the expensive paste she'd worked so hard to make, not thinking of anyone but Krishna.
He breathed deep, savouring the sweet smell. "Thank you," he told her. "I've never worn such lovely sandalwood. I shall never forget it." She loved him so much. She was his Kubja. She was his slave. He was everything to her. She fell at his feet. "Lord," she said. "My Lord."
Krishna lifted her up and as she stood Kubja felt a strangeness in her body. For the first time in her life there was no pain in her back. Krishna lifted her up, up, up, until she stood just as other people did, upright, straight.
She gasped and looked down at herself. Her skin, always mottled and ugly now glowed, radiant even in the shadows. Her old worn out clothes were gone and in their stead were fine silks and jewels, glimmering and glinting up at her. Her hands were smooth and unmarked. She touched her face and felt soft skin and perfect feaures while her hair was silky and long.
"What did you do?" she gasped, looking back at Krishna.
He laughed. "I simply made your outside reflect your inside. Now everyone will see what I see." She shook her head. "I am not worthy-" "You are precious, my Kubja, my Sundari. You will always be precious to me." Again she fell at his feet and again he lifted her, his strong hands on her shoulders.
But then there was a yell behind them. The crowd that had been following Krishna had spotted him and was rushing down the lane. Krishna was swept away in their exuberance but Kubja never forgot the loving look he gave her, telling her she was precious. Telling her she was beautiful.
We spend much time thinking and beautifying our physical form and we forget what truly makes us beautiful - our character.
Kubja was beautiful. As Krishna said, she was unselfish. She helped others without expectation. She never desired bad for anyone even if they hurt her. She never coveted. That is beauty. That is what the Lord saw when he looked at her because he saw the real her.
Krishnamachari Santhanam
