Rivers, by nature, were stubborn things.
They flowed where gravity commanded.
They carved paths slowly, patiently.
They did not listen to children.
The Yamuna, however, had developed opinions.
It began subtly.
Fishermen noticed their nets grew heavier without effort. Washerwomen found the currents gentler near the banks where children played. The water shimmered brighter at dawn, reflecting colors that didn't exist in the sky.
And always—
It reacted to Krishna.
That morning, the children ran toward the river laughing, Butter Gang already plotting their next crime. Radha led the charge, shouting warnings that were promptly ignored.
"Don't run!" she yelled. "Someone will fall!"
Krishna ran faster.
He reached the bank first and skidded to a stop, peering into the water.
Within his awareness—
Environmental Disturbance Detected.
Source: Upstream Industrial Encroachment.
Cause: Kamsa's men diverting water for Mathura.
The system chimed with mild irritation.
«External Authority Interfering with Natural Flow.
Dharma Violation: Moderate.
Civilian Impact: Increasing.»
Krishna frowned.
Diverting water meant crops would fail.
Failing crops meant hunger.
Again.
Radha splashed into the shallow water beside him. "What are you thinking about?"
"The river is being bullied," Krishna said.
Radha blinked. "You always say strange things."
Krishna stepped into the water.
The Yamuna immediately stilled.
Not froze.
Waited.
Krishna waded deeper, water rising only to his ankles no matter how far he walked. The children gasped.
"Look!"
"He's not sinking!"
Adults rushed toward the bank, alarmed.
Yashoda's heart jumped into her throat. "KRISHNA!"
He turned and waved. "It's fine!"
It was.
Krishna knelt and placed his palm gently against the river's surface.
The Yamuna responded.
Upstream, water surged.
Downstream, currents reversed.
Blocked tributaries shattered their barriers.
The river changed course—not violently, but decisively—carving a new path around Mathura's interference, reclaiming its natural balance.
Fields downstream drank deeply.
Dry lands bloomed instantly.
The villagers watched in stunned silence as the river itself seemed to bow.
Radha stared, mouth slightly open.
"…You told the river what to do."
Krishna shrugged. "It asked first."
The system updated calmly.
«Major Environmental Correction Complete.
Public Exposure: Significant.
Faith Risk: Rising.
Counterbalance Recommended.»
Krishna sighed internally.
Too big.
That was too big.
Yashoda reached him, pulling him into her arms, shaking. "What did you do?!"
Krishna hugged her back. "Fixed something."
Villagers whispered openly now.
"That wasn't chance."
"The river moved."
"For him."
An elder stepped forward slowly. "Child… are you—"
"No," Yashoda said immediately, cutting him off. "He is not."
Her voice brooked no argument.
Krishna leaned against her shoulder, small again.
Later, the children sat beneath trees, replaying the moment loudly.
"The river listened!"
"I saw it turn!"
"He controls water!"
Radha sat quietly beside Krishna.
"You didn't look surprised," she said finally.
"I wasn't."
She nodded slowly. "You're always like this. Big things… pretending to be small."
Krishna smiled softly. "And you notice anyway."
She nudged him. "Someone has to."
That evening, offerings appeared near the riverbank—flowers, lamps, whispered thanks.
Not worship.
Gratitude.
Krishna allowed that.
Above, unseen, celestial beings watched in awe.
"He commands elements without wrath," one murmured.
"He restores balance, not dominance."
Mahadev's laughter echoed softly through the heavens.
"He is doing what gods forget," Shiva said. "Listening."
Far away, Kamsa received reports of flooding that spared villages—but ruined his diversion channels.
He smashed a table in rage.
"He controls even rivers now?!"
Fear had turned into obsession.
Krishna felt the tightening net of fate.
Mathura was coming closer.
But Vrindavan—
Vrindavan was learning to stand with him.
The Yamuna flowed differently now.
And it would never forget his touch.
--chapter 17 ended--