Miracles seemed to follow the young Krishna wherever he went. The village folk of Braj were amazed and could find no explanation. Mother Yashoda would sometimes worry about this, but soon, thinking again of Krishna, she would forget all about it. Her neighbors used to complain, saying: ‘Your Gopala is always up to some mischief. He lets the calf loose so it can drink its mother’s milk. He steals milk, curds, and butter, and shares them with his friends. He even gives them to the monkeys. Then he pulls our braids and our saris. If we complain, he laughs at us.’ Yashoda merely smiled. What could she say? She knew exactly what they were talking about.
One day, Balarama and the other cowherd boys came running to Yashoda and said, ‘Krishna is eating mud!’ When asked about this, Krishna replied: ‘No, mother, I did not eat mud. For nothing they are complaining about me. You see for yourself who is correct. Here—I am opening my mouth.’
Krishna opened up his mouth, and there inside Yashoda saw the entire universe—the sky, clouds, moon, sun, and stars; the earth, trees, rivers and mountains; animals, men, women, and children; and even the land of Braj and Yashoda herself too. Seeing all this in the mouth of her child, Yashoda was terrified and thought: ‘Am I dreaming? Or am I mad? Or is this the Lord’s maya?’
Such was the maya of Krishna that the next moment Mother Yashoda forgot all she had seen. She took the little child on her lap and held him as if nothing had happened. The gopis, who had gathered there, were also stunned by the sight of the universe inside Krishna’s mouth. They exchanged looks of amazement, and some even whispered amongst themselves, wondering if they too were dreaming. But then, like Yashoda, they too quickly forgot what they had seen, captivated once again by the playful and mischievous nature of young Krishna.