Krishna was born. So was Maya.
Every year, when Janmashtami arrives, something inside us becomes softer.
We decorate little cradles.
We place tiny footprints of Krishna inside our homes.
We sing.
We fast.
We stay awake waiting for midnight.
And when the clock strikes twelve, we celebrate the birth of Sri Krishna — the one we call Jagadguru, the Supreme Consciousness, the Divine who came into human form.
We remember Devaki.
We remember Vasudeva.
We remember the prison.
We remember the midnight journey.
We remember Yamuna.
We remember Nanda and Yashoda.
We remember the little Krishna who entered Gokula.
But there is another birth in that same story.
A birth that often remains in the shadows.
Maya was born too.
At almost the same time Krishna was born to Devaki and Vasudeva, a divine feminine presence was born to Yashoda and Nanda.
In the sacred tradition, this baby girl is associated with Yogamaya — a divine feminine presence connected with Krishna's earthly Leela.
And perhaps this is where the story becomes much deeper than a story.
Because maybe Krishna's birth is not only about the arrival of God.
Maybe it is also about the arrival of the Power of God.
Krishna is Consciousness. Maya is the Power that moves through Consciousness.
We often use the word Maya as though it simply means illusion.
But the deeper spiritual understanding of Maya is far more profound.
Maya is not merely something that fools us.
In many Hindu philosophical traditions, Maya can be understood as a profound divine power through which reality is experienced, expressed and, at times, veiled from us.
And in the Krishna birth story, the baby girl is associated with Yogamaya — not simply “illusion,” but a divine feminine presence connected with Krishna's earthly play.
The two ideas are related, but they are not simply identical.
It is the mystery between what appears and what truly is.
If Krishna is the ocean…
Maya is the movement of its waves.
If Krishna is the flame…
Maya is the light that allows us to see.
If Krishna is the music…
Maya is the vibration through which the music reaches us.
You cannot separate the power from the source.
And perhaps that is why the feminine was present alongside Krishna.
Not as a secondary character.
Not as a footnote.
But as a reminder that Divinity is never only one-sided.
One is super known. One is super unknown.
Isn't that strangely similar to our own lives?
We celebrate what is visible.
We name what we understand.
We worship what has a form.
But there is always something quietly moving behind it.
We see the flower.
We don't see the intelligence that makes it bloom.
We see a person smile.
We don't see the entire emotional universe behind that smile.
We see an action.
We don't see the consciousness from which that action arose.
We see Krishna.
But perhaps we don't always notice the Shakti that makes Krishna's play possible.
This is the mystery of the Divine Feminine.
She doesn't always stand in the centre.
She doesn't always ask to be recognised.
Sometimes, she works from behind the curtain.
And that doesn't make her less powerful.
Perhaps it makes her even more mysterious.
And then comes Kamsa.
Kamsa hears the prophecy that Devaki's eighth child will be responsible for his destruction.
He is terrified.
He waits.
He watches.
And when the baby girl born to Yashoda is brought before him, he believes this is the child he has been warned about.
He tries to kill her.
But she slips from his hands.
She rises into the sky.
And, according to the sacred narrative, reveals herself as a divine presence.
The little girl was never helpless.
She was never merely a baby.
She was associated with Yogamaya — a power beyond Kamsa's understanding.
And then comes one of the most beautiful spiritual messages hidden inside the story:
What the ego thinks it can control may actually be Divine Power itself.
Kamsa represents the frightened mind.
The mind that wants to control life because it is afraid of losing control.
Krishna represents the Consciousness that cannot be destroyed.
And Maya?
She is the mysterious power that makes the ego believe it is in control — until one day she reveals herself.
Maya does not only hide the Truth.
This is where we need to become careful.
We often say, “Maya is illusion. We must escape Maya.”
But if Maya is understood as a divine power, perhaps the spiritual journey isn't about hating Maya.
It is about seeing through her without rejecting her.
Maya can make us believe:
“I am only this body.”
“I am my success.”
“I am my failure.”
“I am what people think of me.”
“I need this person to be happy.”
“I need that thing to feel complete.”
“I must control everything.”
And yet…
Maya can also lead us back.
A mother can become Maya.
A child can become Maya.
Love can become Maya.
Loss can become Maya.
A heartbreak can become Maya.
Even suffering can become Maya.
Because sometimes the same experience that creates the illusion eventually becomes the experience that breaks it.
She hides.
And then she reveals.
She binds.
And then she releases.
She creates the dream.
And then, when we are ready, she gently wakes us up.
Krishna and Maya are not opposites.
This is perhaps the part I love the most.
We tend to divide everything.
Male and female.
Light and darkness.
Known and unknown.
Spirit and matter.
God and creation.
But the deeper spiritual traditions keep reminding us:
The Divine is whole.
Krishna is not complete because Maya is absent.
Maya is not complete without Krishna.
Consciousness and Shakti belong together.
Stillness and movement.
Awareness and expression.
The silent witness and the dance of existence.
Perhaps that is why Krishna's story is so full of Leela.
Because consciousness doesn't merely sit somewhere far away from life.
It plays through life.
And Maya is part of that play.
Perhaps Janmashtami is not only Krishna's birthday.
Perhaps it is a reminder of something much bigger.
That Consciousness is born within us… and so is the power to experience it.
Every human being carries both.
There is a Krishna within us —
the silent awareness that watches,
the space behind our thoughts,
the stillness beneath our emotions,
the consciousness that remains even when everything else changes.
And there is a Maya within us too —
our emotions,
our desires,
our relationships,
our fears,
our identities,
our dreams,
our attachments,
our experiences.
We need both to live this human life.
The problem is not that Maya exists.
The problem begins when we forget that Maya is Maya.
When we mistake the temporary for the eternal.
When we mistake the role for the Self.
When we mistake the story for the storyteller.
Maybe this is why the feminine Divine deserves to be remembered.
Not only because a Goddess was born on the night Krishna was born.
But because she represents something we have forgotten in ourselves.
The feminine is not weakness.
The feminine is not merely softness.
The feminine can be contemplated as Shakti — the power to create, nurture and transform.
The power to create.
The power to nurture.
The power to transform.
The power to hold.
The power to let go of what must end.
The power to begin again.
And perhaps the most powerful feminine energy is not the one that constantly proves herself.
It is the one that knows who she is even when nobody recognises her.
Maya did not need Kamsa to understand her.
She simply revealed herself.
And disappeared into the vastness from which she came.
The known Krishna.
The unknown Maya.
Maybe both need to be remembered.
Because spirituality is not about choosing one side.
It is about becoming aware of the whole.
Celebrate Krishna.
Celebrate Consciousness.
Celebrate the birth of Divine Awareness.
But while you light that lamp tonight…
perhaps pause for a moment.
And remember the little girl born at the same time.
The divine feminine presence associated with Yogamaya.
The mysterious Shakti.
The one who was almost forgotten in the celebration of the one everyone remembers.
Maybe whisper within yourself:
“I honour the Consciousness that lives within me.
And I honour the Divine Power that allows that Consciousness to express itself.”
Because there are always two sides to every sacred story.
One is loudly remembered.
The other quietly waits to be discovered.
And sometimes…
the one we almost forgot is the one who was holding the entire mystery together.
This Janmashtami, celebrate Krishna.
But also pause for Yogamaya.
Not merely as “illusion.”
But as a profound symbol of the Divine Feminine — the mysterious power that can veil the Truth until we are ready to see, and perhaps also help us recognise what was never truly hidden.
Krishna is the Consciousness.
Yogamaya is the Shakti associated with His Leela.
And we are invited to discover both within ourselves.
Happy Janmashtami.
🪷
