Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. Krishna sported in Vrindavan, doing routine tasks, disguised in the various forms of his friends and calves. His past times went on, just as they were supposed to. During the morning he'd go out to graze calves, in the evening he would return and enter the house of each cowherd boy and engage in activities just like they would've.
When the cows would enter their sheds after a day of grazing, they would moo loudly, to call upon their calves, who were none other than Krishna in disguise. They would lick their children's bodies again and again, and feed them with their nectarean milk.
All the mothers were overwhelmed by transcendental pleasure. They would take great care of their sons, massaging them with oils, bathing them, smearing their bodies with sandalwood pulp, decorating them with ornaments, chanting protective mantras, putting tilak on them and lovingly giving them food.
Earlier they had differentiated between their sons and Krishna, due to the intense motherly affection for the lord. But now that distinction disappeared. They treated all the boys as their own. Same was the case with fathers. The cowherd men too loved Krishna more than their own sons, but now they couldn't differentiate. Their love of their sons kept increasing and increasing.
While grazing atop the Govardhan hill, the cows would look down to find some grass and sometimes would catch a glimpse of their calves pasturing near Vrindavan, not very far away. The animals would forget everything because of increased affection, and would run towards their calves anxiously even though the path was rough. They would force their way through, their heads and tails raised with humps moving with their necks, until they reached their calves to feed them.
The cowherd men, seeing their cows not listen to them, felt both ashamed and angry. They too would go after their animals, through the rough road with great difficulty but when they would see their sons, they would forget all their miseries by being overwhelmed by great affection. All their thoughts would be merged in the mellow of paternal love. They would lift their sons and embrace them in their arms, enjoying the highest pleasure.
But to do their daily duties they needed to leave, and they did with great difficulty. With reluctance they let go of their sons and returned to the forest. All of them would often cry remembering their sons.
The cows, due to increased affection, still had constant attachment even to those calves who had now grown up within a year's time, and had stopped sucking milk from their mothers. The cows would show more affection to them, than the younger and newly born calves.
Seeing these changes taking place in Vrindavan since last year, several questions had been raised in the mind of Balram who at the moment was helping the old farmers to plough their lands. His brow glistened with sweat as he pushed and pulled the tool through the rich earth, his young but strong arms working tirelessly.
While working he wondered about the phenomenon happening in Braj, 'Yeh kaisi vichitra baat hai. Jaisa prem brajvaasi mujhse aur Krishna se karte the ab waisa hi apne santaano se karne lage hai. Parantu achanak se yeh sab kaise ho sakta hai ? Kya yeh koi maya hai ?'
With a grunt of effort, he began to pull the plough through the hardened earth, breaking up the soil with ease. The farmers watched in awe as Balram effortlessly guided the plough in straight lines, his muscles bulging with the exertion. His eyes were focused yet appeared distant as he tried to make sense of the situation at Vrindavan.
'Kya yeh devtao ki maya hai ? Ya fir kisi manushya ka karya. Yadi yeh kisi Asur ka kritya huya toh ?' He wondered.
With each pass of the plough, the earth turned over, ready to be sown with seeds and tended to by the farmers. Although the work was tiring Balram was too occupied with his questions.
Finally, the task was done, and Balram stood with the plough resting on his shoulder.
"Dhanyawad Samkarshan."
"Tum na hote toh hum yeh khet jot hi nahi paate."
The farmers thanked him profusely for his help, marveling at his strength and dedication. But Balram simply smiled, nodding his head in acknowledgment before turning to leave. The weight of the plough did not seem to bother him in the slightest, his muscles rippling beneath his fair skin as he walked with purpose.
As he made his way through the fields, Balram noticed the cows gathered together, showering affection on their calves. Further along the path, Balram passed a group of mothers tending to their young boys, their laughter ringing out in the warm morning air. He smiled at the sight, the bond between mother and child evident in the gentle nuzzles and lowing sounds they exchanged.
Suddenly he seemed to have gotten answers to all his questions. With a smile he muttered to himself, "Mata-Pita ka prem toh maya nahi ho sakta. Yeh awashya Krishna ki leela hai."
And with this knowledge when he saw at the calves and the cowherd boys, all he could see was Krishna and Krishna only.
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A/N
Krishna ki leela is so precise that Balram ji only came to know 5-6 days before the completion of an entire year.
Also... BALRAM JI WITH HAL ✨✨