Life plays out the strangest coincidences.

  After years of living with infertility, Ma was

  expecting a child. She went into labour on

  the eighth night of Krishna Paksh, in the

  month of Bhadra. Just like Devaki. The pain

  of delivery rendered her unconscious, just

  like Devaki. Her husband Nand took the

  wrapped-up bundle from the midwife and

  walked out of his home, leaving the midwife

  to cater to Yashoda, his wife, my mother.

  Baba brought me into the house an hour later

  and laid me beside my mother. When Ma

  opened her eyes, she saw her son; she did not

  know of the betrayal that had taken place. A

  betrayal of love, unheard, epic, just like my

  story.

  Vasudev took the swaddled baby girl back to

  his prison cell in Mathura. Kans was

  informed of the traitor's birth. The mighty

  King rushed to the prison cell, filled with

  royal rage and hatred towards his sister's

  child. The uncle and King snatched the child

  from his sister's arms, ready to throttle it

  immediately before it could harm his

  Kingship. Devaki howled, "It's a girl; let her

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  live."

  The King's confidante and counsel, a courtier

  Akrur was with him, and he took the little

  girl from the King's hands. Akrur tried to

  reason with King Kans, reminding him of the

  sin of female infanticide. Maybe there had

  been a mistake. Akrur, the courtier, was

  wise, though the King rarely listened to him.

  However, his sister's wails this time and the

  infant's helplessness dulled his anger. He

  could not imagine how this slight wisp of a

  girl could destroy the mighty warrior King

  Kans. Devaki's incessant crying was grating

  his nerves, so he told Akrur to take the child

  away and ensure she would not harm Kans in

  any which way.

  Before King Kans could change his mind,

  Akrur bowed low and hurried away, taking

  the girl with him. There was a sudden silence

  in the prison cell; Devaki had fainted. Kans's

  eyes remained glued to the cell wall, where

  Devaki, while away her endless days and

  nights, had painted the likeness of the

  Goddess Durga in all her eight-armed glory.

  A sudden inexplicable fear gripped King

  Kans. He shook his head as if trying to

  remove a thought and walked out of the

  prison cell, his face devoid of emotion.