Regarding His Name: Govinda

His name was Shani until the moon told me otherwise. One of the celestial gods, in Hindu myth, Shani bears the task of granting the fruits of one's actions; he is responsible for punishing or rewarding one in accordance with their karmic action. The son of the sun, he is feared and loved, all the same. As the story goes, after the birth of Lord Shani, as he opened his eyes for the first time, his father (the sun) went into an eclipse. He is known as the most powerful well-wisher and the most feared punisher.

But, the moon had another name for our last little boy.

His name is Govinda, an avatar of Vishnu, the incarnation of Krishna, and the protector of the most sacred creature: the cow. In the tales of the Bhagavata Purana, Govinda revives the cowherds who are killed by drinking from a pool infected by a poisonous snake, simply by favoring them with his ambrosia-filled glance. In reference to prayer, it is said that "If one just worships Govinda, one can easily cross this great ocean of birth and death."(from Adi Sankara's Bhaja Govindam)

So, when the moon was full for three long nights, I labored without realizing that I was laboring. And the baby waited until the fullest moon-night. When he opened his eyes for the first time, I knew that he was Govinda, the magic brought on by the moon. To me, Govinda means nothing more than the pure embodiment of love.

All that he is.

Happy birthday, sweet Govinda Hare!

A to Z:Govinda

The letter G for the Blogging from A to Z Challenge.

G is for Govinda

Each baby arrived early, but never in this lucid way. The boys, ever so ready to tread their way about, could not be late. More so than his brothers, hungry little Govinda, beckoned by an autumn sky, embraced a graceful yet sudden welcome. Little did I know, he would not wait for a dim-lite night.

I was asked by my mid-wives to consume a healthy dose of Vitamin C, for he had ruptured the first seal early. Off to the Co-Op we went, all the while, Govinda(who we referred to as Shani, of the Navagraha, then) breaking his way through blood and womb. Allowing my senses to fall from reality, an endearing acceptance of pain I had willingly developed by the forth pregnancy, I paraded on.

Waddling from aisle to aisle and back home took quite a while. A ridiculously bumpy ride in Hildagard, our Volkswagen bus, was the escape Govinda anticipated. Under the light of the golden sphere, my flesh, quickly becoming a servant to pain. An invitation from the night's sky, Govinda would leave his cloudy ocean behind to devour a hearty brew of oxygen and hue. Senselessly drunk on a melange of milky midnight, mother, and moon.

I nudged him to stay and swim a bit longer, not knowing that his blood belonged to the moon. And Mani must have his way!

So, there he came under the glittering ball in the sky. I closed my eyes, painfully shut, accepting his mulberry bottom in my right palm. And in that moment, I was immediately conscious of who he was,
the one who brought the  glow.

His papa insisted on holding him bare under the Samhain sky, listening to Autumn's cry. I watched and danced against cold concrete on achy nude feet. Aaron, always humming a whisper to Jah when his newest son is born; Govinda, a silent Hare; me, accepting the shallow howl from a distant breeze; the Full Moon, placing a spell: every twenty-eight days, the moon-thirsty boy and his herd of the many who are hungry and free, must come out and play.

Dance in the light of the Moon, Govinda Hare!

Another baby story with the letter 'J'.