In this world, there are those who, driven by selfish desires, perform sacrifices to gods, ancestors, and spirits, using animals obtained through violence, seeking only their own pleasure. These people, much like merchants who abandon true wealth for the fleeting allure of dreams, imagine in their hearts that they will receive blessings in some insubstantial, heavenly realm—a realm that is as pleasing to hear about as a dream, but just as unreal. Those who are attached to the qualities of passion, goodness, or ignorance, and who cherish these qualities, worship deities such as Indra and other principal gods, but do not worship Me as I truly am. After offering sacrifices to the gods, they think, “We shall enjoy the pleasures of heaven.” Yet, when the fruits of their heavenly enjoyment are exhausted, they long again for wealth and high birth upon returning to earth. Thus, for those whose minds are distracted by enticing words, who are proud and excessively greedy, even My own teachings do not attract them. The Vedas, with their threefold division, speak of Brahman, the self, and the gods; the wise speak indirectly, and I too favor indirect speech. The sound-Brahman, the essence of the Vedas, is exceedingly difficult to comprehend. It is composed of life-breath, senses, and mind; it is boundless, unfathomable, deep, and as hard to penetrate as the ocean. I, the Infinite, expand this sound-Brahman, which is perceived among beings as sound, just as a thread runs within a lotus stalk. Just as a spider emits its web from its own 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 all. He alone creates and withdraws the great and endless speech, spread out in various languages, with poetic meters that increase by four syllables each. These meters are Gāyatrī, Uṣṇik, Anuṣṭup, Bṛhatī, Paṅkti, Triṣṭubh, Jagatī, Aticchandas, Atyaṣṭi, Atijagat, and Virāṭ. But what does this speech establish, declare, imply, or distinguish? In truth, no one but I knows its innermost heart. This speech 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, the sacred area 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, beheld the sage seated there, with the sacrificial fire burning brightly. He saw the sage radiant in 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 sustained him. Tall, with eyes like lotus petals, matted hair, clad in garments of bark, appearing unclean as was fitting for an ascetic, and free of adornments, the sage welcomed the king as he approached and bowed. The sage greeted him with appropriate hospitality and words. Having received the proper offerings and seating the self-restrained king, the sage, remembering the Lord’s command, pleased him and spoke 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 roles of the sun, moon, fire, Indra, wind, Yama, Dharma, and Varuṇa—homage to you, the pure one. When you do not mount your victorious, jewel-adorned chariot, brandishing your fierce bow, you terrify the wicked with your very presence. Crushing the earth’s circle with the feet of your army, shaking its sphere, and drawing forth the great host, you roam like the radiant sun. “At such a 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 have you come here? Let us, with honest hearts, act accordingly.” Śuka then continued: In the first month of winter, the young girls of Nanda’s Vraja undertook a vow to worship Kātyāyanī, sustaining themselves only on simple food. Each morning at dawn, as the sun rose, they bathed in the sacred waters of the Kālindī, and on the riverbank, they fashioned an image of the goddess from sand and worshipped her with devotion. With fragrant garlands, perfumes, offerings, incense, lamps, and various gifts—both great and small, such as sprouts, fruits, and grains—they honored her. They chanted the mantra: “O Kātyāyanī, great power, great yoginī, supreme ruler, O goddess, make the son of Nanda my husband; I bow to you,” as they performed their worship. In this way, their minds wholly fixed on Kṛṣṇa, the maidens observed the vow for a month, worshipping Bhadrakālī, desiring that the son of Nanda become their husband. At dawn each day, they rose with their companions, linked arms, and sang loudly of Kṛṣṇa as they made their way to bathe in the Kālindī. One day, when they reached the riverbank, they left their clothes as usual and, singing of Kṛṣṇa, joyfully played in the water. The Lord Kṛṣṇa, master of all yogis, understanding their hearts’ desire, came to the spot, surrounded by his friends, intent on fulfilling their wish. Quickly gathering up their garments, he climbed a kadamba tree and, laughing with the boys, called out to the girls in jest: “Come here, girls, and each of you take back your own garment as you wish. I speak the truth, not merely in jest, if you are truly wearied by your vow. I have never spoken a lie before, and these boys can vouch for it. O fair-waisted ones, come one by one to receive them, not all together.” Seeing his playful gesture, the gopīs, overwhelmed with love, looked at each other bashfully and smiled, yet did not come out of the water. As Govinda spoke thus in jest, their minds agitated, the girls, immersed up to their necks in the cold water and shivering, addressed him.