Having completed their sacred vow with unwavering devotion, the young maidens of Vraja were addressed by Lord Kṛṣṇa, who spoke to them with affection: “Go now, girls, to Vraja, for your vow has reached its perfection. In the nights to come, you shall enjoy my company, for your worship was performed with the aim of honoring me.” With their hearts overflowing, the maidens, though reluctant to leave, returned to Vraja, their minds fixed upon the Lord’s lotus feet. Meanwhile, Kṛṣṇa, surrounded by the cowherd boys, departed from Vṛndāvana. Alongside his elder brother, Balarāma, he led the cows to graze at a distance. As midday approached, the sun’s fierce heat bore down upon them. Yet the trees of Vraja, compassionate and wise, spread their branches wide, offering shade like umbrellas to shield the cowherds and their cattle. Witnessing this, Kṛṣṇa gathered his friends—Stokakṛṣṇa, Aṃśu, Śrīdāma, Subala, Arjuna, Viśāla, Ṛṣabha, Tejasvin, Devaprastha, Varūthapa—and spoke with wonder: “Behold these great souls, living solely for the sake of others. Enduring wind, rain, sun, and cold, they protect us all. Blessed indeed is their birth, for all creatures depend on them. Like the truly good, they never turn away those who seek their help. They fulfill desires with leaves, flowers, fruits, shade, roots, bark, wood, fragrant resin, sap, ashes, and bones. This alone is the true fulfillment of birth: one should always act for the highest good with one’s life, wealth, intelligence, and speech.” Passing beneath low branches heavy with fresh shoots, clusters, fruits, flowers, and leaves, Kṛṣṇa and his companions entered the groves by the Yamunā. There, after watering the cows with pure, cool, auspicious water, the cowherds themselves drank deeply, satisfying their thirst. As the cattle grazed freely in the shade, Kṛṣṇa and Balarāma approached the cowherds, who, feeling hunger, began to speak of the nature of life and existence. They reflected, “Absorbed in sense objects, a living being forgets his true self; death brings total forgetfulness. Birth, though experienced as oneself, is merely the acceptance of sense objects, like a dream or a fantasy. Just as one does not remember dreams or fantasies from before, so too, in each life, one sees oneself as new. This threefold manifestation—senses, their objects, and the mind—appears in the substance; the division between inner and outer is created by people, just as the actions of the good and the wicked. Beings constantly come into being and cease to be; yet, by the subtle, swift force of time, this is not seen. Just as flames, streams, and the fruits of a tree change, so too do the ages and stages of all beings. This lamp is called a flame, this water is called a stream, and this person is called 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. Conception, gestation, birth, childhood, boyhood, youth, maturity, old age, and death—these are the nine stages of the body. These various higher and lower bodies, made of fantasy, are assumed through association with qualities; sometimes acquired, sometimes abandoned. The coming into being and passing away of the self are inferred from father and son; but one who knows the true nature of things is not characterized by both. Just as one who knows the seed and fruit of a tree understands its birth and destruction, yet is distinct from the tree, so too is the witness distinct from the body. When a person does not distinguish the self from nature, bewildered by contact, he enters into worldly existence. Through association with sattva, one attains the gods; through rajas, the demons and humans; through tamas, the state of spirits and animals. Driven by actions, one wanders among these. Watching others dance and sing, one imitates them; thus, observing the qualities of intellect, even the inactive are compelled to imitate. Just as trees appear to move when water flows, and the earth seems to spin when the eyes whirl, so too are perceptions distorted. The experience of sense objects through the mind’s imagination is false, and visions in dreams are unreal—so too is worldly existence for the self. Even when the object does not exist, the cycle of worldly existence does not cease; for one who meditates on sense objects, misfortune arises in dreams just as in waking life. Therefore, Uddhava, do not indulge in sense objects with unreliable senses. See the confusion born from grasping the self, and recognize the illusory error. Whether thrown out, insulted by the wicked, mocked, envied, beaten, restrained, or deprived of livelihood—spat upon, urinated upon by ignorant people, shaken in many ways—one who desires what is good, even in hardship, should uplift oneself by one’s own self.” Uddhava, listening intently, asked, “How may I understand this, O best of speakers? Please tell us. This unbearable transgression against the self, I consider exceedingly difficult, even for the wise, for nature is powerful. Except for those devoted to your dharma, peaceful, and sheltered at your feet.” Kṛṣṇa replied, “Bṛhaspati, in the doctrine of Brahman, and Hari himself, in the state of self-realization, through devotion to cows, teachers, and Brahmins, follow Viṣvaksena. By praise and song, men throughout the three worlds enter through the ear-holes of women, just as Rāma does among the virtuous. Through food and offerings, there is favor among the wives of the sacrificers.” At this moment, the cowherds cried out, “O Rāma, O mighty-armed, O Kṛṣṇa, destroyer of the wicked, this hunger afflicts us; you ought to bring its relief.” Hearing their plea, Kṛṣṇa, son of Devakī, spoke kindly to them, especially addressing the devotee, the wife of the Brahmin: “Go to the sacrificial altar where the Brahmins, versed in Brahman, are performing the Angirasa sacrifice, desiring heaven.