The meaning of the Vedas, rooted in sacred sound, establishes, distinguishes, and even negates the self. In this way, the Vedas, after elaborating on the world of illusion, ultimately transcend it, bestowing grace. Similarly, the hermitage of the sage was surrounded by all manner of forest creatures—deer, boars, wild dogs, oxen, buffalo, elephants, cow-tails, monkeys, mongooses, and snakes—each marking the wild sanctity of that place. Into this holy forest, the chief of kings, accompanied by his sons, entered. There, they beheld the sage seated before the sacrificial fire, radiant from long years of austerity. Yet, though he had engaged in severe penances, he was not emaciated, for the Lord’s loving glance and the nectar of divine words sustained him. The sage was tall, with eyes like lotus petals, his hair matted, clad in garments of bark, appearing unadorned and appropriately unkempt for one absorbed in ascetic life. As the king approached, he bowed reverently at the sage’s feet. The sage welcomed him warmly, offering all due hospitality and greetings. Once the self-controlled king was seated, the sage, recalling the Lord’s command, spoke to him gently, pleased by his presence. “O lord,” he said, “your wandering is for the protection of the virtuous and the destruction of the wicked, for you are the sustaining power of Hari himself. 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 ascend your victorious, jewel-adorned chariot, brandishing your fierce bow, you still strike terror into the hearts of the wicked. With the march of your army, you shake the earth’s very sphere and travel its expanse like the radiant sun. “If you were to rest, O King, the boundaries of society—established by the Lord through the divisions of varṇa and āśrama—would be destroyed by bandits, and unrighteousness would take root, fostered by greedy and unrestrained men. Should you withdraw, the world would fall into the hands of outlaws and perish. Yet, O hero, tell me, for what purpose have you come here? Let us act together with honest hearts.” At this point, Śuka continued his narration. He described how, in the first month of winter, the young girls of Nanda’s Vraja undertook a vow to worship Kātyāyanī, eating only the simplest food. At dawn, as the sun rose, they would bathe in the waters of the Kālindī river. On the riverbank, they shaped an image of the goddess from sand and worshipped her with fragrant garlands, perfumes, offerings, incense, lamps, and gifts—sprouts, fruits, and grains, both great and small. With devotion, they chanted: “O Kātyāyanī, great power, supreme ruler, O goddess, make the son of Nanda my husband; I bow to you.” For an entire month, their minds fixed on Kṛṣṇa, they worshipped Bhadrakālī, longing for Nanda’s son to become their husband. Each morning, they rose together, arms linked, singing loudly of Kṛṣṇa as they walked to bathe in the Kālindī. One day, as was their custom, they left their clothes on the riverbank and joyfully played in the water, singing of Kṛṣṇa. The Lord himself, master of all yogis, knew their hearts’ desire. With his friends, he came to the riverbank to fulfill their wish. Quickly, Kṛṣṇa gathered their garments and climbed a kadamba tree, laughing with his companions. He called out playfully, “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 me. O fair-waisted ones, come one by one to receive them—not all together.” Seeing his playful mood, the gopīs, overwhelmed with love, looked at each other bashfully and smiled, but did not come out of the water. As Govinda continued in jest, the girls, shivering in the cold water, their minds agitated, spoke to him: “O beloved son of Nanda, please respect us; we know you are worthy of all praise in Vraja. Give us our clothes, for we are trembling. O Śyāmasundara, we are your servants and will do as you say. Please return our garments, O knower of dharma, or we will complain to the king.” Kṛṣṇa replied, “If you are truly my servants and will do as I say, let these pure-smiling girls come here and receive their garments.” Thus, shivering from the cold, the girls emerged from the water, covering themselves as best they could, afflicted by the chill. Seeing them helpless, the Lord, pleased by their pure devotion, placed their garments on his shoulder and, smiling affectionately, spoke: “You entered the water naked, maintaining your vow, and this is an offense against the gods. With folded hands, bow your heads to dispel this fault, and then, taking your clothes, put them on.” Hearing these words from Acyuta, the girls of Vraja understood that bathing naked was a breach of their vow. Wishing to fulfill their purpose, they accepted this as the completion of their ritual, for it was directly ordained by him and thus blameless. Seeing them bowing in this way, the Lord, son of Devakī, moved by compassion, returned their garments to them, being pleased. Though they had been teased, embarrassed, made to play, and even had their clothes taken, the girls did not resent Kṛṣṇa, but instead found joy in his beloved company. After putting on their garments, their hearts set on meeting their beloved, the girls, their eyes cast down in modesty, did not leave his side. Understanding their longing to touch his feet, Lord Dāmodara spoke to them, honoring their vow and their intention. “Your desire to worship me is known to me, O virtuous ones. I approve of it, and it shall be fulfilled. For those whose minds are fixed on me, desire does not turn to lust—just as roasted and boiled grains do not sprout.” With these words, the Lord acknowledged their devotion, sanctifying their love and promising its fulfillment.