# Khatuśyām There is a peculiar torment in those moments when the mind grasps at something just beyond its reach—some truth that hovers at the edge of articulation, then dissolves the instant we turn our full attention toward it. Perhaps this is what the ancient philosophers meant when they spoke of the ineffable. Not that certain things cannot be said, but rather that they resist the very machinery of language, the way water resists the closed fist. I have been thinking lately about servitude—not the crude chains of one man bound to another, but that more subtle bondage we forge for ourselves, sometimes without knowing it. The Sanskrit word *dāsa* carries a weight that English "slave" cannot quite capture. It is not merely subjection; it is a posture of the entire being, a way of moving through the world with one's gaze perpetually lowered. We are all, perhaps, servants to something—to hunger, to fear, to the opinions of others, to our own unexamined desires. Yet there is also something in the posture of service itself that contains an unexpected grace. When one serves truly—not out of compulsion but from genuine devotion—there occurs a strange paradox. The servant becomes free precisely through his surrender. His will, aligned with something larger than himself, transcends the petty tyranny of the ego. In the *Bhagavad Gita*, Krishna speaks of action performed without attachment to results. This is not passivity but a kind of radical freedom found only on the other side of submission. I do not know if I have said what I meant to say. The words keep slipping away, like oil between the fingers. But perhaps that is as it should be. Perhaps the true teaching lies not in what is said but in what remains silent in the space between the words—that luminous void where meaning lives before it takes on the crude weight of language.

I offer now the tale of Khatu Shyam Babuji, sprung from the Mahabharata's narrative.

Barbarik was the son of Ghatotkacha, grandson of Bhima, and a warrior of extraordinary prowess. In Rajasthan, he is worshipped as Khatu Shyam at the temple bearing his name; in Gujarat, as Baliadeo. He held fast to a principle: to fight always for the weak. For this reason, he witnessed the entire war at Kurukshetra without taking part in it. Through rigorous austerities, Barbarik obtained from the goddess Kamakshi a mighty weapon—three arrows. And through worship of Agni, the god of fire, he gained a celestial bow. With these three arrows and this bow, he became invincible across the three worlds. When he unleashed those arrows toward the enemy, they would, in the blink of an eye, identify the foe and deliver death, then return of themselves to his quiver. Yet there was one condition: he could wield this weapon only in the cause of the weak.

Learning of the war at Kurukshetra, Barbarik wished to witness the great Mahabharata conflict and sought to join it. He had promised his mother, Princess Maurvi, that he would side with whoever faced defeat. Blessed by his mother, he mounted a blue horse and set forth toward the battlefield. Yet even had he fought for the Pandavas, a problem remained. Though those arrows could destroy all the Kaurava warriors, Krishna could not strategically permit the deaths of Kripa, Bhishma, and Ashwatthama. For should they fall, the Kauravas would become the weaker side, and Barbarik, bound by his promise to his mother and his boon, would be compelled to take up arms against the Pandavas.

So Lord Krishna, disguised as a Brahmin, stopped Barbarik on the road to test his powers, even mocking him, saying he carried only three arrows to so great a war. Barbarik replied that a single arrow was sufficient to destroy all his enemies within a minute. The first arrow would identify the targets he wished to destroy. Should he then use the second arrow, it would mark those targets he did not wish to destroy. Then, releasing the third, it would annihilate all the identified targets.

Lord Krishna challenged him, saying he must bind with his arrow all the leaves of a pipal tree standing nearby. Barbarik accepted the challenge and, closing his eyes, began to meditate before releasing his first arrow. But Krishna, unbeknownst to Barbarik, plucked a single leaf and placed it beneath his own foot.

When Barbarik released his first arrow, it identified all the leaves of the tree and then began circling Krishna's feet. Puzzled, Krishna asked why the arrow circled his feet in such a manner.

Barbarik explained that a leaf lay beneath his foot, and the arrow circled that target. He urged Krishna to move away, lest he suffer harm. Krishna at once lifted his foot and marveled to see that the first arrow had indeed identified the hidden leaf.

When the third arrow was finally released, it gathered every leaf, including the one that had lain hidden beneath Krishna's foot, and bound them all together.

Witnessing this, Krishna arrived at a conclusion—the arrows were so powerful and precious that though Barbarik remained ignorant of his true targets, his arrows possessed the ability to seek them out and identify them with perfect precision.

# The Divine Sacrifice of Barbarik

Thus did Krishna gain profound insight into Barbarik’s unprecedented powers. He then asked Barbarik which side he would support in the war. Barbarik replied that he would fight for whichever side was weaker. Lord Krishna knew that the Kauravas’ defeat in the war was inevitable. So Krishna approached Barbarik as a beggar, asking for alms, and Barbarik promised to grant him whatever he wished.

Lord Krishna immediately asked Barbarik to give him his head. Barbarik was bewildered. He requested the brahmin to reveal his true identity. Lord Krishna then granted Barbarik a vision of his divine form. He explained to Barbarik that the head of the most courageous warrior among kshatriyas must be sacrificed before the war. Krishna believed Barbarik to be the most valiant among all warrior heroes, and therefore wished to receive his head as an offering.

The Kauravas possessed eleven akshauhinis of soldiers, while the Pandavas had only seven. Thus Krishna considered the Pandavas relatively weak and wished to support them. Then Lord Krishna asked Barbarik whether he had seriously reflected upon the consequences of making such a promise to his mother—to support the weaker side—before giving it. Barbarik had assumed that his support for the relatively weaker Pandava faction would ensure their victory. Krishna then revealed to him the true outcome of his mother’s promise.

Krishna said that no matter which side Barbarik supported, his very power would weaken the opposing faction. No one could defeat him. Consequently, since he would be forced to switch sides to support whichever faction became weaker (due to his promise to his mother), in an actual war he would find himself wavering between both sides—forced to change allegiance again and again. This would result in the complete destruction of both armies, with only he remaining alive in the end. Ultimately, neither side would emerge victorious; only he would survive. Therefore, Sri Krishna commanded him to offer his head in sacrifice, thereby avoiding his participation in the war.

Accepting the Lord’s command, Barbarik dedicated his head to Krishna. He received from Krishna the boon that in the Kali Yuga, he would be worshipped as Krishna. The Lord not only blessed him but also declared that Barbarik’s devotees would receive Sri Krishna’s grace, and those who chant the name of Krishna and Shyam from the depths of their hearts would have all their desires fulfilled. Thus Khatushshyamji is the awakened deity who fulfills the heart’s desires of his devotees.

Barbarik had requested that even though his head was severed, he wished to remain a witness and observe the war to its end. Sri Krishna granted his wish. The severed head was placed upon a nearby mountain overlooking the battlefield. When the war ended and the victorious Pandava brothers began to quarrel among themselves about whose contribution had led to their victory, Lord Sri Krishna offered this counsel: Barbarik’s severed head had witnessed the entire battle of Kurukshetra, and he alone should be permitted to judge the matter. When permission was granted, that eye-witness head of Barbarik declared that Lord Sri Krishna himself had been the architect of the Pandavas’ victory, for his counsel, his presence, his stratagems, and his war strategy were essential to their triumph. It is worth noting that among the few who had the great fortune of hearing the teachings of the Bhagavad Gita, Barbarik too was one.

Because Barbarik gave his head to Lord Sri Krishna, Khatushshyamji is also known as Shish Ke Dani—the giver of the head.

Besides these, he is known in different regions by various other names: Hare Ka Sahara (Protector of the Defeated)—Hare Ka Sahara, Khatu Shyam Hamara [We are troubled, but come, let us not worry; Khatu Shyam is with us!]; Tin Bandhari (Bearer of Three Arrows); Lakha-Datari (The Great Giver); Leela Ke Aswar (Rider of the Celestial Horse); Khatu Naresh (King of Khatu); Kaliyug Ke Avatar (God of the Kali Age); Shyam Pyare (Beloved Shyam); Baliya Dev (The God Who Sacrificed Himself); Morchhadidharак (Bearer of the Staff Made of Peacock Feathers); Shyam Baba (A name prevalent among the Marwari community); Barish Ka Devta (God of Rain); Yalambhar (Yalambhar was a Kirat warrior and the first king of the Kirat kingdom of Nepal); Akash Bhairav (The Lord Shiva of the Sky); Sava Bhakku Dev (Guardian of the Heavens); Wanga Diya (God of Sky Protection); Hatu Diya (God of Pure Intoxication—He who grants wine as blessing); Aju Diya (God of Ancestors).

Many years after the Kali Age began, the head was buried in the village of Khatu in present-day Rajasthan (in Sikar district). Until much later, the location remained obscure. Then, one day, milk began to flow spontaneously from a cow’s udder whenever it came near the burial site. Astonished by this miraculous occurrence, the local villagers dug up the place (now known as ‘Shyam Kund’) and unearthed the buried head. The head was entrusted to a Brahmin, who worshipped it for many days, awaiting divine revelation about what should be done next. The king of Khatu, Rupsingh Chauhan, was then instructed in a dream to build a temple, and the idol was installed on the eleventh day of the bright fortnight of Phalgun. It is noteworthy that Barbarika was born on the eleventh day of the bright fortnight of Kartik, and on the twelfth day of Phalgun, he offered his head to Krishna.

Khatu Shyam Babaji is worshipped as a household deity in many families. In Faridpur, Bangladesh, for the past thirty years, Khatu Shyam Babaji has been worshipped every year on the eleventh day of the bright fortnight of Phalgun. On that day, an all-night devotional singing ceremony is organized, as the devotees traditionally spend the night together in celebration. The devotees arrange the bhajan ceremony and invite singers of devotional hymns to perform. The people of the Marwari community worship Lord Krishna in the form of Khatu Shyam with great festivity and elaborate grandeur. In the worship, fifty-six varieties of the Lord’s favorite offerings are presented, just as on Janmashtami. Throughout the night, devotional songs and various offerings of blessed food are arranged in abundance, and as dawn approaches, everyone joyfully plays with colored powder in celebration. Such a union of souls is truly a sight to behold and awakens a beautiful feeling in the heart.

The grandeur of this religious celebration among the Marwaris cannot be adequately described without witnessing it firsthand. Their traditionally prepared delicacies of various kinds, their culture and customs rich in distinctive identity, their magnificent hospitality, their emotionally vibrant participation—all these elements keep you awake throughout the night. If you sleep, you will surely miss it all! The devotional singers who come from India truly captivate the audience, intoxicating them with devotion. I especially cannot forget Abhijit Kohar! To witness an artist tirelessly performing fifty or sixty bhajans with a smile on his face, his performance touching the hearts of all present—such an occurrence is rare indeed. I was deeply moved by hearing and watching Abhijit’s devotional singing. I ordinarily do not take selfies with people of my own accord; I do not feel much inclination to do so. Yet that day, I myself went and took a selfie beside Abhijit—and asking him for it brought me joy.

That night, I did not fail to sleep, no; rather, let me say it thus: having surrendered myself to the great tide of celebration on that auspicious eleventh day of Phalguni, the experience that has accumulated in my soul is one for which I shall feel joy and exhilaration for many, many years to come.

Their hospitality, their deference, their sincerity—I shall never forget these things; it seemed to me that I was the host, not the guest—that my own family dwelt there. This was my Krishna festival, my cherished portion of existence. The one who organized the celebration, I call him ‘Uncle.’ Uncle gave me several gifts, and among them, that little Nâdu-Gopâl—how beautiful it is, how exquisite; I cannot do it justice with words. Even should he not invite me next time, I shall arrive punctually at the appointed hour, without fail. Whatever brings even a trace of color to this pallid life of ours—that alone, to me, is religion.