Adorned with peacock feathers and garlands of forest flowers, his limbs bright with fresh mineral colors, Krishna entered the cowherd settlement. The air was alive with the music of his flute and horn, the calves were praised in song, and the gopīs’ eyes followed him with joyous celebration. In the village, the children sang with excitement: “Today, by the son of Yaśodā and Nanda, the great serpent was slain, and we are all protected!” Their voices rang with gratitude for Krishna’s heroic deeds. Hearing of this, King Yudhiṣṭhira asked, “O revered Brahmin, how did such deep love for Krishna arise at his very birth—even among those who had never felt such affection before, not even for their own children? Please tell me.” Śuka replied, “O King, for all living beings, the self is most dear. Children, wealth, and other possessions are cherished only because they are related to the self. Among embodied souls, attachment for one’s own self is always strongest; sons, wealth, and homes are dear only because they are seen as extensions of the self. Even those who identify the body as the self do not love the body as much as they love what follows from it. And if the body is regarded as ‘mine,’ still it is not as dear as the self—for even as the body ages, the hope for life remains strong. “Therefore, for all embodied beings, the dearest is one’s own self. For its sake, the entire world—moving and unmoving—exists. Know Krishna to be this very self, the self of all selves. For the welfare of the world, he too appears here in an embodied form, by his own divine illusion. In truth, for those who see clearly, Krishna alone is the abiding and moving reality; the entire form of the Lord—there is nothing else in this world. The essential meaning of all things is established in being, and for Lord Krishna, how could anything not of that nature be considered real? “Those who take shelter of the tender feet of Murari, whose fame is pure and great, find that the vast ocean of worldly existence shrinks to the size of a calf’s hoofprint. They reach that supreme destination, untouched by misfortune at any step. Thus, I have told you, as you asked, about what Hari did in his childhood and what is renowned from his boyhood. The conduct of Murari with his friends—destroying evil, playing in the meadows, his visible and invisible forms, and his fulfillment of the earth’s desires—hearing and praising these pastimes, a person attains all purposes. “In this way, with games of hiding, building bridges, leaping like monkeys, and other playful acts, Krishna and his companions spent their boyhood in Vraja.” Sūta then continued: “So it was that Krishna’s friend, Arjuna, was left without choice by his royal brother, whose mind was troubled by many doubts, tormented by separation from Krishna. Arjuna’s face and heart, once radiant like a lotus, had withered with grief. Meditating only on the Lord, he was unable to speak. With great effort, he restrained his sorrow, wiped his eyes with his hand, and was overwhelmed by longing in the Lord’s absence. “Recalling their friendship, their intimacy and affection—his service as charioteer and so on—Arjuna addressed his elder brother, the king, his voice choked with tears. “Arjuna said: ‘O great king, I have been deceived by Hari, who appeared as my kinsman. By him, my power—which astonished even the gods—has been taken away. Even a moment’s separation from him makes the whole world seem joyless. Bereft of his praise, I am as if dead, so it is said. ‘By taking refuge in him, I entered the house of Drupada at the svayamvara, where proud kings were assembled. By his power, I overcame them, won the contest, and gained Krishna. In his presence, I gave the Khāṇḍava forest to Agni, conquered Indra and his hosts, and obtained the wondrous assembly hall built by Maya. Kings from all directions brought tribute to your sacrifice. ‘By your power, O king, Bhīma, your noble younger brother, whose strength equaled ten thousand elephants, defeated the lords of the earth for the great sacrifice. Those kings, subdued for the sacrifice, brought tribute to you. At your great sacrifice, your wife—adorned for the royal consecration—was insulted in the assembly by gamblers. Her tears fell at your feet, her hair loosened when her protectors were defeated. Those women suffered greatly. ‘He protected us in the forest, when we were tormented by the hardships caused by Durvāsā, when our enemies attacked, and when we, subsisting only on vegetables, had exhausted all means. By his grace, the three worlds became satisfied, even as we were surrounded by dangers in the water. ‘By your power, O Lord, even Śiva, armed with the trident and accompanied by his consort, was astonished in battle and gave up his own weapon to me. With this very body, I attained a seat of great honor in the palace of Indra. There, while I was enjoying myself, my two strong arms—marked by the bow Gāṇḍīva and meant for destroying enemies—were admired by the gods with Indra at their head, who sought refuge with me. But now, O Lord, by your departure, I have been deprived of that power, like a common man. ‘By whose favor, O kinsman, I alone crossed the boundless ocean of the Kuru army with a single chariot, displaying the valor of great heroes. I recovered wealth and jewels from the enemy and took the radiant jeweled crowns from their heads. He, as the foremost among charioteers, moved ahead of me in battle, adorning the circle of the best chariots on the spotless nights, facing Bhīṣma, Karṇa, Guru, Śalya, and others. By his glance, he subdued the strength and minds of the leaders of my enemies. ‘By his grace, the mighty weapons of Bhīṣma, Karṇa, Drona, Śalya, Saindhava, and other great warriors, though unfailing and powerful, did not touch me, just as the weapons of the demons could not touch Nṛhari, the servant of Hari. In the battle at Prabhāsa, surrounded by those of evil intent, the Lord, whose lotus feet are worshipped by the virtuous for liberation, protected me. Though my horses were exhausted and I stood on the earth, the enemy charioteers, their minds bewildered by his influence, could not attack me. ‘The playful, noble words, adorned with a charming smile—“O Pārtha! O Arjuna! Friend! Joy of the Kurus!”—spoken by the Lord, O King, touch my heart and, when remembered, make my heart of stone melt. In sharing the same bed, seat, walking, talking, and eating together, I was sometimes deceived by him, thinking him my equal, as a friend with a friend, or even as a father with his son. Yet, out of his great affection, he tolerated all my offenses born of ignorance. ‘Now, O King, bereft of that Supreme Person, my dear friend and beloved companion, my heart is empty. On this path of life, though I have the protection of his great deeds, I am like a woman defeated by thieves, left helpless. That bow, those arrows, that chariot, those horses, and I as the charioteer—before whom even kings would bow—have all, in a moment, become powerless and useless, like offerings cast into ashes by the magic of illusion. ‘O King, by your will, the Yadus, who were not true friends to their own city, became deluded by the curse of the Brāhmaṇas and began to strike each other with their fists. Having drunk the liquor Vāruṇī, their minds agitated by intoxication, not knowing each other, they fought among themselves, leaving only four or five survivors. ‘O King, this is generally the way of the Lord’s inscrutable actions: living beings destroy each other, and also foster each other, by his arrangement. Just as in water, the larger aquatic creatures devour the smaller, so among men, the strong overcome the weak, and the powerful prevail over the less powerful.