Some, lacking true understanding and guided by confused minds, do not speak of the enticing, flowery promises of fruitive rituals, for those who truly know the Veda do not praise such pursuits. Those who are driven by lust, pitiable and greedy, fix their minds on the outward flowers rather than the true fruit. Like moths drawn to a flame, they are unaware of their own real destination. O dear one, such people do not know Me, the indwelling Lord in the heart, from whom this world arises. Just as those who remain unsatisfied by hymns and rituals are like people whose sight is obscured by fog, so too do they miss the truth. Without understanding My indirect intention, those devoted to sense objects, if they become attached to violence, are not fit even for sacrifice. Indeed, the cruel, seeking only their own pleasure, perform sacrifices to gods, ancestors, and spirits, using animals obtained through violence. Like merchants who abandon real wealth for dreams, they imagine in their hearts that blessings await them in that insubstantial world—a world as pleasing to hear about as a dream but just as fleeting. Those who are established in passion, goodness, or ignorance, and who cherish these qualities, worship Indra and the other principal gods, but not Me as I truly am. After worshipping the gods with sacrifices, they think, “We shall enjoy in heaven,” and when their time in heaven ends, they long to be wealthy and of high birth again on earth. Thus, for those whose minds are distracted by flowery words, who are proud and excessively greedy, even My teachings hold no appeal. The Vedas, with their threefold division, concern Brahman, the self, and the gods; the sages speak obliquely, and I too delight in indirect speech. The sound-Brahman is exceedingly difficult to comprehend, made of life-breath, senses, and mind; it is boundless, unfathomable, deep, and as hard to penetrate as the ocean. It is expanded by Me, the Infinite, the Brahman of endless power; among beings, it is perceived as sound, like the thread running through the stalk of a lotus. Just as a spider emits its web from its heart through its mouth, so too does the life-breath, endowed with sound, arise from space, taking the form of touch through the mind. The Lord is composed of meters and immortality, possessing countless paths; from Om, adorned with consonants, vowels, sibilants, and resonant sounds, He is established within. He creates and withdraws, by Himself, the great and endless speech, which spreads out in various languages, with meters increasing by four syllables each. The meters—Gāyatrī, Uṣṇik, Anuṣṭup, Bṛhatī, Paṅkti, Triṣṭubh, Jagatī, Aticchandas, Atyaṣṭi, Atijagat, and Virāṭ—are all His forms. What does it establish, what does it declare, what does it imply, or distinguish? In this world, no one but I knows its true heart. It establishes Me, denotes Me, distinguishes and negates Me; thus, the entire meaning of the Vedas, relying on sound, differentiates Me, and, having recited only illusion, finally negates it and becomes gracious. In the same way, it is surrounded by deer, boars, wild dogs, oxen, buffalo, elephants, cow-tails, monkeys, mongooses, and snakes. Entering that foremost holy place, the chief of kings, along with his sons, saw the sage seated there, with the sacrificial fire burning. The sage shone with his form, long engaged in severe austerity; yet he was not too emaciated, for the Lord’s affectionate glances and the nectar-like words he had heard nourished him. He was tall, with eyes like lotus petals, matted hair, clad in bark garments, appearing unclean as is fitting for an ascetic, and unadorned. As the king approached the hermitage and bowed before the sage, the sage welcomed him with appropriate hospitality and kind greetings. The sage, having received the proper offerings and seated the self-restrained king, pleased him, remembering the Lord’s command, and spoke to him with gentle words: “Certainly, O lord, your wandering is for the protection of the virtuous and the destruction of the wicked, for you are the sustaining power of Hari. You assume the forms and stations of the sun, moon, fire, Indra, wind, Yama, Dharma, and Varuṇa—homage to you, the pure one. When you do not mount your victorious chariot, adorned with jewels, brandishing your fierce bow, you terrify the wicked even with the sight of your chariot. Crushing the earth’s circle with the feet of your army and shaking its sphere, you draw forth the great host and roam like the radiant sun. “At that very time, O King, all the boundaries established by the divisions of varṇa and āśrama, created by the Lord, would surely be broken by bandits. Unrighteousness would arise, fostered by greedy and unrestrained men; if you were to lie down, this world, seized by outlaws, would surely perish. Nevertheless, O hero, I ask you for what purpose you have come here; let us, with honest hearts, act accordingly.” Śuka then spoke: In the first month of winter, the young girls of Nanda’s Vraja undertook the vow of worshipping Kātyāyanī, eating only simple food. Having bathed in the waters of the Kālindī at dawn, when the sun had just risen, they made an image of the goddess from sand on the riverbank and worshipped her, O King. With fragrant garlands, perfumes, offerings, incense, lamps, and various gifts—both great and small, such as sprouts, fruits, and grains—they worshipped her. They chanted this mantra: “O Kātyāyanī, great power, great yoginī, supreme ruler, O goddess, make the son of Nanda my husband; I bow to you,” and performed their worship with devotion. In this way, the maidens, their minds fixed on Kṛṣṇa, observed the vow for a month, worshipping Bhadrakālī, desiring that the son of Nanda become their husband. At dawn, rising with their companions, linking arms with one another, they sang loudly of Kṛṣṇa as they went each day to bathe in the Kālindī. One day, coming to the riverbank, they left their clothes as before and, singing of Kṛṣṇa, joyfully played in the water. Lord Kṛṣṇa, master of all yogis, understanding their intention, came there surrounded by his friends to fulfill their desire. Quickly taking their garments, he climbed a kadamba tree, and, laughing with the boys, he spoke to them in jest.