The legend begins in the dark, oppressive atmosphere of Mathura, where the tyrant King Kamsa ruled with an iron fist. Kamsa’s heart was consumed by a chilling prophecy: that the eighth child of his sister, Devaki, would be his slayer. To thwart this fate, Kamsa had imprisoned Devaki and her husband Vasudeva, systematically murdering their first six children. However, through divine intervention, the eighth child, Krishna, was secretly transported across the Yamuna River to the pastoral village of Gokul, where he was raised by Nanda and Yashoda. Despite Kamsa’s best efforts to secure his borders and monitor every birth, whispers began to reach him of a miraculous child growing up in the nearby cowherd community. Haunted by paranoia and desperation, Kamsa summoned his most loyal and terrifying generals—the asuras (demons) who possessed supernatural powers.
Among these dark forces was Putana, a rakshasi (demoness) known as a 'balagraha' or a killer of infants. Putana was not merely a physical threat but a mystical one; she had the ability to soar through the skies and change her appearance at will. Kamsa commissioned her with a horrific task: to find and kill every newborn boy in the region of Vraja, ensuring that the prophesied savior would not survive to adulthood. Putana set out with a cruel delight, leaving a trail of grief behind her as she moved from village to village. Eventually, her dark senses led her to the vibrant and peaceful settlement of Gokul, where the divine presence of the infant Krishna radiated a light that even the darkest shadows could not ignore.
To infiltrate the household of Nanda, Putana used her maya (illusion) to transform herself into a woman of breathtaking beauty. She adorned herself with jasmine flowers, dressed in fine silks, and painted her eyes with such grace that she resembled the goddess Lakshmi herself. Her disguise was so perfect that the simple-hearted gopis (cowherd women) of Gokul did not suspect her true nature; they assumed she was a celestial visitor or a noblewoman who had come to bless the newborn child. Putana moved through the village with a predatory grace, her heart filled with the 'kalakuta' poison she had prepared to kill the child. She had smeared this lethal toxin onto her breasts, intending to deliver death under the guise of maternal nourishment.
When Putana entered the house of Yashoda, she saw the infant Krishna lying in his cradle. Even at such a young age, Krishna’s skin was the color of a dark rain cloud, and his eyes held the depth of the entire universe. While Yashoda and the other women watched, Putana picked up the baby. Though she felt a momentary tremor of awe at the child's radiance, her demonic instincts took over. She sat down and offered her breast to the child. Krishna, being the Supreme Lord in human form, was fully aware of her identity and her murderous intent. He understood that she had come to kill him, but he also saw the latent potential for devotion in her act of nursing, however twisted its origin. Krishna closed his eyes, for it is said he did not wish to see the face of one who would try to kill a child, or perhaps because he was about to perform an act of cosmic judgment.
As Krishna began to suck, he did not merely drink the poisoned milk. He drew with such immense force that he began to pull the very life-air (prana) from Putana’s body. The demoness, initially confident in her victory, soon felt a pain unlike any she had ever experienced. It was as if a mountain were being pulled through her veins. She tried to push the baby away, but his tiny hands held her with the strength of a thousand suns. The agony was so great that her disguise shattered. Her beautiful form melted away, revealing her true, hideous appearance—a giantess with matted hair, fangs like plowshares, and limbs the size of tree trunks. She shrieked in a voice that shook the earth and reached the ends of the horizon, begging the child to let her go.
Putana’s massive body grew so heavy and her struggle so violent that she stumbled out of the house and collapsed in the fields of Vraja. As Krishna drew the final breath from her lungs, she fell dead, her corpse stretching for miles and crushing trees in its wake. The villagers of Gokul rushed out in terror and amazement, finding the tiny infant Krishna safely playing on the chest of the fallen giantess. They marveled at his survival and quickly took him back to the safety of Yashoda’s arms, performing various rituals to protect him from further evil.
The aftermath of Putana’s death carries a profound philosophical meaning in Hindu literature, particularly in the Bhagavata Purana. Despite her evil intentions, Putana had performed the role of a mother by nursing the Lord. In the infinite mercy of Krishna, this single act of 'service'—even one intended to kill—cleansed her of all her sins. When the villagers decided to dispose of her massive body by cutting it into pieces and burning it, the smoke that rose from her funeral pyre did not smell of rotting flesh or demonic energy. Instead, it emitted the sweet, heavenly fragrance of sandalwood and jasmine. This was a sign that her soul had been purified by the touch of the Divine. By giving her life to Krishna, Putana was granted the same status in the spiritual world as a nurse or a mother, attaining 'moksha' (liberation) that even many sages struggle for centuries to achieve.