As the season turned, great clouds gathered in the sky, their forms illuminated by flashes of lightning and shaken by fierce winds. They poured down life-giving rain upon the land, their compassion evident in every drop. The earth, which had been parched and scorched by the relentless sun, drank deeply of this rain, much like a body restored after long austerity finally attains its cherished goal. At nightfall, only the tiny fireflies glimmered in the darkness, while the planets themselves remained unseen, just as the sacred Vedas do not shine forth among heretics in the age of Kali due to the prevalence of sin. Yet, when the thunder of the clouds rolled across the sky, the frogs, long silent, began to croak once more, just as brāhmaṇas resume their recitations after completing their vows. The small rivers, which had dried up and strayed from their courses, now flowed again with renewed vigor, like the wealth and strength that return to a man who is truly independent. The earth was transformed—lush grass and the red indragopa insects appeared, and mushrooms cast their shade, all signs of fortune blossoming for humanity. Fields, now abundant with crops, brought joy to the farmers who tended them. Yet, the proud, ignorant of the workings of fate, found only regret. All creatures—on land and in water—were refreshed by the rains and took on a lovely appearance, just as those who serve Hari are beautified by his grace. The rivers, swollen by many streams, surged with waves driven by the wind, resembling the restless mind of an immature yogi agitated by passion and the play of qualities. Yet the mountains, though struck by torrents of rain, did not tremble, just as those whose minds are fixed on the Supreme remain unmoved by calamities. The paths became uncertain, overgrown and unmarked by grass, much like the Vedas themselves when neglected by brāhmaṇas and obscured by discord. Even the constancy of women toward men, however virtuous, did not remain, as fleeting as lightning among clouds. A rainbow appeared in the sky, seemingly adorned with many qualities though itself without them, just as a person without qualities appears to possess them when such traits are manifest. The moon, veiled by radiant clouds, did not shine forth, just as a person blinded by ego cannot reveal his own true brilliance. The peacocks, delighted by the arrival of the clouds, rejoiced, but in their homes—scorched and disheartened—they waited for the coming of the Lord, just as his devotees yearn for him. The trees, having drunk deeply through their roots, regained their forms, refreshed after being withered and exhausted by austerity, just as one is by the pursuit of desires. Cranes settled in the tranquil waters of lakes and reservoirs, just as people with vain hopes dwell in households filled with restless duties. Yet the embankments were broken by the torrents sent by the lord of rain, just as the paths of the Vedas are broken in the age of Kali by the false words of heretics. The clouds, driven by the winds, released their water as nectar for all beings, just as the lords of wealth, urged by the twice-born, bestow blessings at the proper time. Amidst these blessings, Hari, accompanied by his companions and surrounded by cows and cowherds, entered the forest, which was rich with ripe dates and jambu trees, eager to enjoy its bounty. The cows, burdened by the heavy weight of their udders, moved slowly, yet came quickly when called by the Lord, their udders moist with affection. The forest dwellers rejoiced, beholding rows of trees dripping with honey, and the caves near the mountains resounded with the sound of falling water. Sometimes, when rain fell into the hollows of trees or caves, the Lord would enter and delight there, partaking of roots, tubers, and fruits. With Sankarshana and the cowherds, he ate curds and rice brought for them, sitting together on a stone near the water, sharing the meal as companions. Seated on the grass as they grazed, the bulls, calves, and cows, weary from the weight of their udders, closed their eyes in contentment, fully satisfied. Beholding the glory of the rainy season, which brought joy to all beings and was enhanced by his own divine power, the Lord worshipped it. Thus, as Rama and Keshava dwelt in Vraja, the autumn season arrived, bringing clear skies, pure waters, and gentle winds. With the blooming of lotuses, the waters returned to their natural state, just as the minds of those who have fallen are restored through the practice of yoga. Autumn drove away the clouds from the sky, the impurity from the earth, and the filth from the waters, just as devotion to Krishna removes impurity from ascetics. Having abandoned all their possessions, the beings of the earth shone with pure radiance, just as sages who have renounced all desires become peaceful and free from sin. The mountains released their waters but sometimes withheld what was auspicious, just as the wise bestow the nectar of knowledge at the proper time, or sometimes do not. The creatures living in deep waters did not perceive the diminishing water, just as foolish householders fail to notice their own lives slipping away day by day. Those same creatures did not feel the heat caused by the autumn sun, just as a poor, pitiable householder with uncontrolled senses does not perceive his own suffering. Gradually, the plants shed their mud and dryness, just as wise people slowly abandon the notions of 'I' and 'mine' regarding the body and other non-self things. The ocean, at the arrival of autumn, became still and silent, just as a sage, when all movements cease, becomes fully absorbed in the self. Farmers drew water from the fields with strong embankments, just as yogis, restraining the flow of knowledge with their vital energies, gain mastery over their minds. The moon removed the heat caused by the rays of the autumn sun from living beings, just as Mukunda dispelled the suffering born of bodily identification in the women of Vraja. The sky appeared spotless and full of pure stars, just as the mind endowed with goodness perceives the meaning of the sound of Brahman. The moon, surrounded by stars, shone in the sky with its unbroken orb, just as Krishna, surrounded by the Vṛṣṇis, shone on earth. Embracing the forest breeze—cool and warm, fragrant with flowers—the people shed their suffering, yet the gopīs, whose hearts had been stolen by Krishna, could not be relieved.