Once, on a bright day along the riverbank, the young girls of Vraja came together as they had done before. Leaving their clothes on the shore, they entered the cool waters, their hearts light and joyful as they sang songs in praise of Kṛṣṇa. Immersed in their play and devotion, they forgot all else. At that very moment, Kṛṣṇa, the Supreme Lord and master of all yogis, understood the longing in their hearts. Surrounded by his friends, he approached the riverbank, intent on fulfilling the secret desire of the girls. Swiftly, he gathered up their garments and, with a playful spirit, climbed a tall kadamba tree. From his perch, laughing with the cowherd boys, he called down to the girls below. “Come here, girls, and each of you may take back your own garment as you wish,” he teased. “I speak the truth, not just in jest—if you are truly wearied by your vow, come and claim your clothes. I have never spoken a lie before, and these boys can vouch for me. O fair-waisted ones, come one by one, not all at once, to receive your garments.” Hearing his words and seeing his mischievous smile, the gopīs looked at one another, overcome with bashfulness and love. Smiling shyly, they hesitated to step from the water. As Govinda continued to jest, the girls, shivering in the cold and immersed up to their necks, spoke to him with trembling voices. “O beloved son of Nanda,” they pleaded, “please respect us. We know you are worthy of all praise in Vraja. Return our clothes to us, for we are trembling from the cold. O Śyāmasundara, we are your servants and will do as you say. Give us our garments, O knower of dharma, or else we will complain to the king!” Kṛṣṇa replied gently, “If you are truly my servants and will do as I have said, then let each of you, with your pure smiles, come here and receive your garments.” With no other choice, the girls, shivering and afflicted by the chill, emerged from the water, modestly covering themselves with their hands. Seeing them so helpless, Kṛṣṇa, pleased by their pure devotion, placed their garments on his shoulder and, smiling affectionately, spoke to them. “You entered the water naked while maintaining your vow. This is an offense against the gods. To dispel this fault, bow your heads with folded hands and offer your respects. Then, take your clothes and put them on.” Hearing these words from Acyuta, the girls of Vraja understood that bathing naked was a breach of their vow. Desiring to fulfill the purpose of their ritual, they accepted Kṛṣṇa’s instruction as the completion of their observance, for it was ordained directly by him and thus was blameless. When the girls bowed as he directed, the compassionate Lord, son of Devakī, returned their garments with pleasure. Though they had been teased and embarrassed, and even had their clothes taken, the girls bore no resentment. Instead, they rejoiced in the beloved company of Kṛṣṇa. After putting on their garments, their hearts still yearning to be close to him, the girls lingered, their eyes cast down in modesty. Sensing their desire to touch his feet, Lord Dāmodara addressed them, recognizing the purity of their intention. “O virtuous ones, I know your wish to worship me. I approve of it, and it is destined to be fulfilled. For those whose minds are fixed on me, desire does not lead to lust, just as roasted and boiled grains do not sprout. Now, return to Vraja, perfected in your vow. In the nights to come, you will enjoy with me, for your vow was performed with the aim of worshiping me.” Śuka then said: Thus instructed by the Lord, the maidens, their desires fulfilled, returned to Vraja, their hearts and minds absorbed in meditation upon his lotus feet, though it was difficult for them to leave. Meanwhile, Kṛṣṇa, surrounded by his cowherd friends, departed from Vṛndāvana and, along with his elder brother Balarāma, led the cows to graze at a distance. As they wandered, Kṛṣṇa noticed the trees spreading their branches wide, offering shade like great umbrellas against the fierce midday sun. He turned to the boys and spoke: “O Stokakṛṣṇa, Aṃśu, Śrīdāma, Subala, Arjuna, Viśāla, Ṛṣabha, Tejasvin, Devaprastha, Varūthapa! Behold these noble trees. They live solely for the sake of others, enduring wind, rain, sun, and cold to protect us. Blessed indeed is their birth, for all creatures depend on them. Like the truly good, they never turn away those who seek refuge. They fulfill desires with their leaves, flowers, fruits, shade, roots, bark, wood, fragrant resin, sap, ashes, and bones. This, truly, is the fulfillment of birth: to act always for the highest good with one’s life, wealth, intelligence, and speech.” Passing through the lush branches of the Yamunā’s banks, where trees were heavy with fresh shoots, fruits, flowers, and leaves, the boys led the cows to drink the pure, cool, auspicious water. After watering the cows, they themselves drank freely, satisfying their thirst. In those groves, letting the cattle graze as they wished, Kṛṣṇa and Rāma approached, and the cowherd boys, feeling hungry, began to speak. They reflected, “Absorbed in sense objects, a living being forgets himself again and again. For some reason, death is a total forgetting. Birth, though experienced as the self, is said to be merely the acceptance of sense objects, like a dream or a fantasy. Just as one does not remember a dream or a fantasy from before, so in that state, one sees oneself as new, not as before.” They continued, “This threefold manifestation—of senses, their objects, and the mind—arises in the substance of being; the division of inner and outer is created by people, just as the actions of the good and the wicked. O dear one, beings are constantly coming into being and ceasing to be; by the subtle, swift force of time, this is not seen. Like flames, streams, and the fruits of a tree, so are the ages and stages of all beings established. Yet, this lamp is called a flame, this water a stream, and this person a man—such speech is false, as is the notion of lasting life. Do not think that a person is born from the seed of his own actions, or that he truly dies; it is an illusion, just as fire appears to arise and cease with wood.” Thus, amidst the play of divine love and the musings on the mysteries of life and time, Kṛṣṇa and his companions continued their joyful journey through the forests of Vraja.