As the torrents of rain poured down, the embankments were broken by the mighty force sent by the lord of rain, reminiscent of how, in the age of Kali, the sacred paths of the Vedas are disrupted by the false words of heretics. The clouds, driven by swift winds, released their waters like nectar, nourishing all living beings—just as the lords of wealth, prompted by the wise twice-born, bestow blessings at the proper times. In this atmosphere, Hari, surrounded by his companions, cows, and cowherds, entered the forest, which was abundant with ripe dates and jambu trees, eager to enjoy its beauty. The cows, weighed down by their heavy udders, moved slowly but hastened joyfully when called by the Lord, their udders moist with affection. The forest dwellers rejoiced at the sight of honey-dripping rows of trees, and the caves near the mountains echoed with the sound of falling water. Sometimes, when rain fell into the hollows of trees or caves, the Lord entered these shelters, delighting there and feasting on roots, tubers, and fruits. With Sankarshana and the cowherds, Krishna ate curds and rice that had been brought for him, sitting on a stone by the water and sharing the meal with his companions. Seated on the grass as they grazed, the bulls, calves, and cows—exhausted from the weight of their udders—closed their eyes in contentment, fully satisfied. Beholding the splendor of the rainy season, which brought joy to all beings and was enhanced by his own divine power, the Lord worshipped its glory. As Rama and Keshava dwelt in Vraja, the autumn arrived, bringing clear skies, pure waters, and gentle winds. With the blooming of lotuses, the waters regained their natural clarity, just as the minds of those fallen are restored through yoga. Autumn swept away the clouds from the sky, impurities from the earth, and filth from the waters, just as devotion to Krishna cleanses ascetics of their impurities. Having abandoned all possessions, the beings shone with pure radiance, like sages who have renounced all desires and are freed from sin. The mountains released their waters, but sometimes withheld what was auspicious, just as the wise impart the nectar of knowledge only at the right time. Creatures living in deep waters did not perceive the diminishing water, just as foolish householders fail to notice their lifespan slipping away day by day. Nor did they feel the heat of the autumn sun, much like pitiable householders with uncontrolled senses do not perceive their 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 became still and silent at autumn’s arrival, just as a sage becomes absorbed in the self when all movements cease. Farmers drew water from fields with strong embankments, just as yogis restrain the flow of knowledge with their vital energies. The moon relieved the heat caused by the autumn sun, just as Mukunda dispelled the suffering born of bodily identification in the women of Vraja. The autumn sky appeared spotless and full of pure stars, like the mind endowed with goodness perceiving 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 Vṛṣṇi clan, shone on earth. Embracing the forest breeze, cool and warm, fragrant with flowers, the people shed their suffering—except for the gopīs, whose hearts had been stolen by Krishna. Cows, deer, birds, women, and flowering plants flourished in autumn, sought out by their own males, just as fruits are produced by the actions of the Lord. Lotus flowers rejoiced at the rising of the sun, except for the night-blooming lilies, just as people are fearless under a king, but not in the presence of robbers. Towns and villages shone with festivals and delighted senses, the earth rich with ripe harvests, especially due to Hari’s arts. Merchants, sages, and kings, having bathed, went out to pursue their purposes, just as perfected beings, when the time arrives, seek their own bodies after being restrained by the rains. He, possessing the self, created his own city and people for them; seeing those previously created, they praised the Lord of creatures. They exclaimed, “O creator of the world, how excellent is your deed! In whom all rituals are established, together let us partake of food.” Endowed with austerity, knowledge, and yoga in deep concentration, Hṛṣīkeśa, the sage of sages, created the desired beings. To each, the unborn one gave a portion of his own body—prosperity in meditation and yoga, austerity, knowledge, and detachment. Śuka continued: In this way, during autumn, with clear water and the fragrance of blooming lotuses, Acyuta, along with the cowherd boys and cows, entered the breeze-cooled forest. The forests, with blossoming trees, swarms of humming bees, and lakes and rivers resounding with the calls of birds, welcomed the lord of the bees. Herding the cows with his companions, Krishna played his flute. When the women of Vraja heard that flute song, which awakened love, some of them, unseen by Krishna, described it to their friends. They began to speak of it, remembering Krishna’s deeds, but, O King, overwhelmed by the force of love, their minds grew disturbed and they could not continue. Krishna wore a peacock feather, appearing as the best of dancers, karṇikāra flowers at his ears, garments yellow as gold, and a garland of forest flowers. Filling the holes of his flute with nectar from his lips, surrounded by cowherd boys, he entered the forest of Vṛndā, making it delightful with his footprints and famed by his song. Thus, the sound of Krishna’s flute, enchanting all beings, was heard by the women of Vraja, who, describing it, became absorbed in its sweetness. The gopīs exclaimed, “O friends, we know no greater fruit for the eyes than this—seeing the two sons of the lord of Vraja, herding the cows with their companions, their faces adorned by the flute, and receiving their loving glances. Adorned with mango shoots, tender leaves, peacock feathers, and garlands of lotuses and lilies, dressed in garments decorated with forest flowers, the two shone brilliantly in the midst of the cowherd community, like expert dancers on a stage, singing. What good fortune has this flute attained, O friends, that it alone enjoys the nectar of Dāmodara’s lips, which even the gopīs desire. The rivers, tasting its leftover sweetness, rejoice, their waters trembling and the trees shedding tears like elders.” Thus, in the beauty of autumn, with the forests alive and hearts enchanted, Krishna’s divine play and the love of the gopīs filled Vraja with joy and wonder.