There are so many souls and so many universes. Does Kṛṣṇa really care about me?

The topic for today is remembering our eternal friend. Of course, you can guess who is the eternal friend. But often, we may have some reservations about this friendship. Does Krsna really care?

This article is based on a class I gave to devotees in Slovenia. You can watch the class or read the article:

The topic for today is remembering our eternal friend. Of course, you can guess who is the eternal friend. But often, we may have some reservations about this friendship.

For example, sometimes we see another devotee, and we become attracted. He or she may have some special energy, some shakti, may speak well, or sing well. He or she has some special quality, and we become drawn to this person. We think, “Oh, I want to be his friend”, or her friend.

But if we don’t feel welcomed, if we feel that this person doesn’t really accept us, or doesn’t like us, then immediately we hesitate. We start thinking that maybe that’s not such a good idea. We don’t feel at ease coming close to this person. We may like the person, we may admire him or her, but we prefer to stay at a distance. We just observe from afar. We don’t want to come close because we don’t feel welcomed.

If we don’t feel any reciprocation, or even if there is reciprocation, but somehow we convince ourselves that “This person doesn’t like me,” or that he or she is not open to us, then we keep our distance. We don’t want to come close.

» Subscribe to receive new articles by e-mail. It’s free, but if you like, you can pledge a donation:

In this context, here we are, trying to establish a relationship with Kṛṣṇa. That’s what Kṛṣṇa consciousness means: to become conscious of Kṛṣṇa, to reconnect with Him. But often, we may have this idea: “Maybe Kṛṣṇa doesn’t really want me. Maybe He doesn’t even like me. Maybe He doesn’t even know I exist.”

Because Kṛṣṇa is so big! Imagine, when Kṛṣṇa opened His mouth, Mother Yaśodā could see the whole universe inside. Who is this person who has the entire universe in His mouth?

In the Bhagavad-gītā, Kṛṣṇa shows His universal form to Arjuna. The universal form reveals the different manifestations that exist within this one universe (different demigods and potencies, as well as asuras and other kinds of powerful beings), as well as time: past, present, and future. All these different forms that Arjuna sees in the universal form are a combination of all the inhabitants, manifestations, energies – everything that exists within this universe. And not just what exists now, but also what existed before, and what will exist in the future. For example, the universal form is devouring all the Kauravas. That’s the future. That’s Kāla (time) killing everyone, destroying everything.

We can see that Arjuna becomes completely terrified. He thinks, “Who is this? What is this power? Is this really the same Kṛṣṇa who is my friend??” You can see in the Bhagavad-gītā, right there in the description given by Sañjaya, Arjuna is overwhelmed. He becomes fearful.

And the form that Arjuna sees, that powerful universal form, is just a tiny, tiny manifestation of the energy of Kṛṣṇa.

Just imagine: there is Kṛṣṇa. Then from Him comes Balarāma. Then from Balarāma comes Vāsudeva, Saṅkarṣaṇa, Pradyumna, and Aniruddha. Then from there comes Nārāyaṇa. Then from Nārāyaṇa comes Mahā-Viṣṇu.

In this way, Mahā-Viṣṇu is already the expansion of the expansion of the expansion of the expansion of the expansion of Kṛṣṇa. And Mahā-Viṣṇu creates all the material universes just by His breath, and by just glancing at the material energy, He impregnates all of them with the jīvas, the living entities.

We can try to imagine how powerful Mahā-Viṣṇu is. And still, Mahā-Viṣṇu is just the expansion of the expansion of the expansion of Kṛṣṇa.

Now take just one of these universes, out of the billions of universes He creates. What’s inside that universe is what Arjuna saw. That’s it. Just a very tiny fragment of the energy of Kṛṣṇa.

So who is this person? Kṛṣṇa is so powerful. And me? I’m so tiny compared to Him. Maybe He doesn’t even know that I’m here. There are so many souls in this universe. Maybe He forgot about us. After all, there are so many universes He has to take care of, why would He care about me?

There is a special section in the Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam, at the end of the Fourth Canto, which speaks exactly about this point, our eternal relationship with Kṛṣṇa.

Yes, there are so many jīvas. Just imagine how many souls exist in this material creation. Even within this one universe, how many living beings are there? Not just on this planet, but throughout the whole universe... It’s not possible to count. And then multiply that by billions of universes. How many jīvas are there? It’s impossible to even imagine. And still, Kṛṣṇa can have an eternal relationship with each one of us. A personal, individual relationship with every soul.

How is that possible? That’s exactly because Kṛṣṇa is so great. Because He is so powerful, there is no limit to how many places He can be, how many persons He can be present for, how many relationships He can cultivate at once.

That’s another meaning of the word unlimited. Unlimited doesn’t just mean size or quantity; unlimited also means unlimited attention, unlimited presence, unlimited love, and unlimited relationships.

That’s another feature of the beauty of Kṛṣṇa, another side of His greatness.

And this is exactly what today’s passage is about. The context of these verses is the allegory of Purañjana, which is told by Nārada Muni to King Prācīnabarhi, to awaken him to self-realization.

But it’s not just the story of the king, it’s our story. The story of every conditioned soul.

The City of the body

The allegory begins with Purañjana, who, after wandering through many places, comes to a beautiful city, located south of the Himalayas. What is that city?

The city represents the human body, specifically a human body born in Bhārata-varṣa, in India, south of the Himalayas. So, in this allegory, when Purañjana “enters the city,” it means he takes birth in a human body.

And it’s a beautiful body. The city is described with many attractive features: there are houses, some with golden ceilings, some with silver, some with copper. There are lakes with waterfalls, forests, birds chirping, and so many beautiful things. All of these elements, houses, lakes, gardens, etc., represent the different possibilities that the human body offers.

The different buildings symbolize the different activities we perform throughout our lives: The houses with golden ceilings represent activities in the mode of goodness. The ones with silver ceilings represent activities in the mode of passion, and the ones with copper ceilings represent activities in the mode of ignorance. The beautiful lake with the waterfalls and birds represents the opportunity for sex life that appears at a certain point in life, and so on. These different features represent our bodily experience.

In this way, this allegory of Purañjana is describing human life, our life, from the moment of entering the body to everything that happens afterward. So many beautiful and attractive things. So many experiences to enjoy in the human body, both pleasant and painful.

And in this city, Purañjana meets a mysterious lady. This lady has ten servants, and behind her, there is a serpent with five hoods, always guarding her. She also has a minister with her. Each of these ten servants has many wives, and each of those wives has many more servants. So it becomes a huge family, an entire household of activity.

Who are these ten servants? They are the senses.

According to the Vedic description, we have ten senses. Five knowledge-acquiring senses (eyes, ears, nose, tongue, and skin) and five working senses (hands, legs, speech, genitals, and anus). That’s how they are counted: five that perceive and five that act.

Now, each one of these senses is connected to many sense objects, the things they enjoy. For example, the eyes are drawn to beautiful sights, the tongue to delicious foods, and so on. These are like the “wives” of the senses. So many objects of enjoyment are connected to each sense.

Then, there is the minister, who represents the mind. And the mysterious lady herself? She is the intelligence.

Normally, in a balanced life, intelligence is above the mind. The mind follows the guidance of intelligence. So in the allegory, this mysterious lady, the queen of the city, is the intelligence. The minister who serves her is the mind. And the serpent with five hoods represents the five vital airs (prāṇas) that keep the body alive.

Purañjana becomes attracted to this lady. This shows how we, as souls, become attached to our intelligence, because intelligence is the tool we use to enjoy the world. Through intelligence, we can make plans, learn things, figure out how to do things, and solve problems. It’s the device we rely on to navigate and enjoy material life.

That’s why Purañjana marries the lady. He becomes committed to material life. And then, he enters the city. This means that he begins his human life.

He lives in the city for 100 years, which represents the normal human lifespan. It’s described that he’s a pious person. He follows a kind of religious life, guided by his intelligence. But it’s more like a karma-kāṇḍa lifestyle, religiosity aimed at enjoyment. He’s not a devotee. He’s just trying to live according to the scriptures to have a good, moral life. And for a while, it works.

But at some point, he leaves his intelligence behind. He leaves the queen in the palace, and he goes out in a chariot, carrying many arrows and two explosive arrows. He is accompanied only by his servants, not by the queen. That means he takes only the senses and the mind, leaving behind his intelligence. He goes hunting in the forest. This represents a turning point, when a person turns away from moral life and chooses to indulge in sense gratification, in sinful life.

He leaves his religious intelligence behind and goes out into the world just with his senses and his mind. And he engages in material enjoyment, sinful actions. Later, he returns to the palace, tired and exhausted, and now he wants to see the queen again. This illustrates a sinful person coming back to his good sense.

Rising and failing again

But the queen doesn’t want to see him. There’s a whole drama, also described at this point in the story. Now, there are two levels of meaning here.

The external meaning is straightforward: it’s about a sinful person who begins to regret. There’s a moment of conscience: “Why did I do this?” a kind of internal conflict, guilt, disappointment.

But there’s also a deeper meaning, which Śrīla Prabhupāda explains in his purports.

In that deeper understanding, the soul, Purañjana, comes to the spiritual master. He is tired of his sinful life. Not exactly regret, but something wakes up inside. A realization dawns: “I’m not really happy.”

And this happens to most people at some point in life. We realize, “This isn’t working. I need something more.” That’s often the moment we come to Kṛṣṇa consciousness.

In the story, Purañjana finds a spiritual master and begins practicing Kṛṣṇa consciousness. He starts his devotional life. But not for very long. After a short while, he forgets. Again, he slips back into the same patterns, the same materialistic life.

Still, that brief practice was not lost. What does Kṛṣṇa say in the Bhagavad-gītā? Śucīnāṁ śrīmatāṁ gehe, yoga-bhraṣṭo ’bhijāyate: Someone who practices devotional life, even just a little, will be given another chance. He or she will take birth in a family of pious people, or in a wealthy family, among brāhmaṇas, or among well-to-do people. Somewhere auspicious, where one can continue from where he left off.

So, because of that short practice of devotional service, Purañjana takes another human birth, this time as a princess named Vaidarbhī.

Vaidarbhī receives a good education. She grows up pious. And eventually, she marries Malayadhvaja. According to the deeper meaning, Malayadhvaja is a pure devotee. Not just a king, but also a great ācārya.

Prabhupāda explains in his purport that Malayadhvaja has many children, and these children also have many descendants. This shows that he is a powerful preacher. Through him and his disciples, the bhakti movement spreads widely.

Vaidarbhī becomes very devoted to him. She accepts him not only as her husband, but also as her guru. She follows him faithfully for her whole life.

At the end of life, Malayadhvaja retires to the forest. He enters the vānaprastha stage, the retired order of life. And Vaidarbhī chooses to go with him. In Vedic culture, it’s optional; a wife may stay with her children, or she can accompany her husband to the forest. Vaidarbhī chooses to follow him.

Malayadhvaja begins to meditate. It’s described that he meditates for 30,000 years. That’s in Satya-yuga, when life spans were incredibly long. And she stays with him, serving him the whole time. But eventually, Malayadhvaja leaves his body.

One day, as she is serving him, she notices that the body has gone cold. He has passed away. He has gone back to Godhead. And now she is alone. Alone in the forest.

Just imagine the feeling. She has dedicated her whole life to serving this man. She left her palace, her comforts, her children, everything, just to follow him and serve him in the forest at the end of his life. And now, he’s gone. She’s alone.

What is she going to do? It’s a difficult situation.

So she takes a deep breath, and she gathers wood to cremate the body. That’s her final duty to her husband. She collects the wood. She places the body on the pyre. And she lights the fire. The flames begin to rise. The body begins to burn.

And now she’s standing there, thinking, What should I do? She decides that she will enter the fire. She doesn’t want to live without her husband. She feels it’s easier to go into the fire than to stay alone. She decides to give up her life.

Meeting with Krsna

And just at that moment, Kṛṣṇa appears to her. He appears to her in the form of Paramātmā.

But He doesn’t come in an overwhelming, divine form. He comes in a form that Vaidarbhī can recognize. He appears as a brāhmaṇa.

Why a brāhmaṇa? Because she’s a pious lady. As soon as she sees a brāhmaṇa, she recognizes the sacredness and naturally offers respect. It’s a form she’s ready to receive.

Now, if we go back to the beginning of the allegory, there’s a very interesting detail. It’s mentioned that Purañjana had a friend, whose name was Avijñāta, which means “the unknown one.”

He’s only mentioned once, right at the beginning of the story. This friend, Avijñāta, then disappears from the narrative. We don’t hear anything more about him throughout the entire allegory. But Avijñāta is there the entire time. He is with Purañjana in his first life. Then, as Purañjana becomes Vaidarbhī, He’s still there. In fact, He has always been there. But neither Purañjana nor Vaidarbhī paid any attention to Him. He’s present in every moment of the story, watching, guiding, waiting. But unnoticed.

Why? Because the soul is too busy looking outward, caught up in the material world. We don’t notice the witness within. No one understands the movements of this friend. He remains invisible, silent, yet present.

But now, at this crucial moment, after so much has happened, the friend, Paramātmā, appears in the form of a brāhmaṇa to Vaidarbhī.

The natural question is: Why only now? Why didn’t she see Him earlier? After all, He was there in the two lives, and many more before that.

The reason is purity. Only at this point did she reach the stage of detachment that allowed her to see Paramātmā. He is with us the whole time, but we are not looking at Him. We’re looking outside. We’re absorbed in the material world, in its attractions, distractions, pleasures, and pains. But sometimes, when a person goes through intense suffering, especially a deep loss, like Vaidarbhī just experienced, something shifts. That pain awakens renunciation in the heart.

Śrīla Prabhupāda explains that such painful moments can awaken renunciation, at least temporarily, and allow us to directly see the Lord.

That’s exactly what happens here. Vaidarbhī comes to that stage of inner sincerity and detachment. In that moment, Kṛṣṇa can finally reveal Himself to her and speak.

What Kṛṣṇa tells her is not just meant for her. It’s meant for us, too. The only difference is that we haven’t yet come to the same level of realization. Maybe, at some point in life, we will. But for now, we hear His words through scripture.

What did He say to her? What is this message Kṛṣṇa wants to transmit to us? That’s the message that answers our question: Does Kṛṣṇa really care about me? Does He remember me?

Let us see what He has to say:

“The brāhmaṇa inquired as follows: Who are you? Whose wife or daughter are you? Who is the man lying here? It appears you are lamenting for this dead body. Don’t you recognize Me? I am your eternal friend. You may remember that many times in the past you have consulted Me.” (SB 4.29.52)

And then He continues:

“My dear friend, even though you cannot immediately recognize Me, can’t you remember that in the past you had a very intimate friend? Unfortunately, you gave up My company and accepted a position as enjoyer of this material world.” (SB 4.29.53)

That’s our situation. It’s not that Kṛṣṇa left us. It’s not that He forgot us. We forgot Him.

Somehow, we forgot Kṛṣṇa. We left Him. And we came to this material world. And once here, we started traveling through so many different bodies, just like Purañjana passed through so many cities and lifetimes. We’ve taken birth in so many different places, in so many different species, 8,400,000 forms of life. That’s a lot of traveling. We’ve been on this journey for a very, very long time.

But Kṛṣṇa never left us. Even though we left Him, He came with us. He never abandoned us in this journey. He’s there. He’s following us the whole time.

The problem is that our vision is directed outward to the material world. We’re distracted. And because we’re looking outside, we don’t see Him inside. But that doesn’t mean He’s not there. He is there. Waiting. Watching. Accompanying us.

And when He gets the opportunity, when we are ready, He reveals Himself. He comes to us in many forms:

As the spiritual master, to guide us with practical and personal instruction. As the deity, so we can see and serve Him even though we can’t yet perceive Him within the heart.

The deity may be made of metal, stone, or wood, but that is not just metal, stone, or wood. That is Kṛṣṇa Himself, taking a form we can see. A form our material eyes can relate to. That’s His mercy.

He also comes as the holy name. When we chant the holy names, Kṛṣṇa is with us again. He appears in sound, and He allows us to associate with Him directly. This is His desire; He wants us back. He is not happy that we are wandering endlessly in this material world, lost and forgetful of who we really are.

He keeps coming to us in so many forms and in so many ways, giving us so many chances to turn back to Him.

And then, He continues speaking to Vaidarbhī:

“My dear gentle friend, both you and I are exactly like two swans. We live together in the same heart, which is just like the Mānasa Lake. Although we have been living together for many thousands of years, we are still far away from our original home.” (SB 4.29.54)

That’s the beauty of it. He has never left us. He is in our hearts right now. Like two swans swimming in the same lake. Even after thousands and thousands of years, He is still waiting for us to return.

One interesting point is that in this verse, where Kṛṣṇa says that we are far from our original home, the Sanskrit word used is “okaḥ”.

Now, someone who knows a little Sanskrit might raise an objection. They might say that okaḥ just means any abode, any house. It doesn’t necessarily mean “original home”. That’s technically true, “okaḥ” means house or residence. But context is everything in Sanskrit. And here, Śrīla Prabhupāda translates it as “our original home.”

Why? Because the context is Kṛṣṇa speaking about how He and the soul have been traveling together for thousands of years. And everyone knows from the Vedic literature, the Purāṇas, Upaniṣads, Bhagavad-gītā, that Kṛṣṇa’s home is the spiritual world. That is His eternal residence. So if Kṛṣṇa says, “We have been traveling together, and we are far from our original home,” it clearly means that the jīva came from the same place; our home is also the spiritual world, the place of Kṛṣṇa. That’s why Prabhupāda translated “okaḥ” as “from the original home.” Because that’s what the verse means.

We can see that Prabhupāda knows Sanskrit a lot better than us. And more importantly, he has spiritual realization. So we trust his translation, especially when it’s grounded in the whole body of Vedic knowledge.

Kṛṣṇa continues:

“My dear friend, you are now My very same friend. Since you left Me, you have become more and more materialistic, and not seeing Me, you have been traveling in different forms throughout this material world, which was created by some woman.” (SB 4.29.55)

That’s what Kṛṣṇa wants to tell us: “Look at Me. I’m with you. I’m your eternal friend. I’ve always been with you.”

Now, just imagine: if you were sent to prison, let’s say you committed some crime and got a life sentence. How many of your friends would go with you? Can you name one?

Someone might say, “This friend will go with me.” But as soon as trouble comes, the friend disappears, “No, no, I’m not going with you!”

But there is one friend who goes with us, and that’s Kṛṣṇa. He never leaves.

We may go to prison, to hell, to a cockroach body, to any miserable condition of life, and Kṛṣṇa goes with us. Always. That’s a true friend.

And now, after so many births, thousands, millions of lifetimes, we have finally come to the point of practicing Kṛṣṇa consciousness. Maybe not perfectly. Maybe we still have faults, but we are still trying.

In all those births, all those lives in different bodies, Kṛṣṇa never left us. So do you think He’s going to leave us now, when we are finally trying to come back to Him? Of course not.

If He was with us even when we were pigs, insects, or in sinful conditions, then now, when we are trying to return to Him, He will manifest even more strongly in our lives.

The more we become purified, the more we turn to Him, the more He walks in our direction. The more He reveals Himself. And at the right moment, when we are ready, He may even appear personally, just like He did for Vaidarbhī.

Actually, He’s already there. It just depends on whether we can see Him. As soon as we become capable of seeing, He is eager to reveal Himself. He’s not far away. He never was.

That’s the message I wanted to share with you today.

You can also donate using Buy Me a Coffee, PayPal, Wise, Revolut, or bank transfers. There is a separate page with all the links. This helps me enormously to have time to write instead of doing other things to make a living. Thanks!