Śrī Śuka continued his narration: When the cowherds approached the Lord, Devakī’s son, with their request, he responded with gentle kindness, addressing especially the wife of the brāhmaṇa, who was his devotee. Kṛṣṇa instructed them, “Go to the sacrificial altar where the brāhmaṇas, learned in the Vedas, are performing the Angirasa sacrifice, aspiring for heaven. Approach them, cowherds, and ask for some of the cooked rice, saying you have been sent by us. Mention the names of the Lord, the noble one, and myself.” Following the Lord’s command, the cowherds went to the sacrificial ground. With humility, they bowed low before the brāhmaṇas, prostrating themselves, and made their request as Kṛṣṇa had instructed. “O lords of the earth,” they said, “we come at Kṛṣṇa’s bidding. Know that we are cowherds sent by Rāma. May you be blessed. O best knowers of dharma, Rāma and Acyuta are tending the cows nearby and are hungry. If you have faith, please give them the cooked rice they desire.” They added, “O noble ones, except during the consecration for the animal sacrifice or the Sautrāmaṇi rite, even one who is consecrated does not defile food by eating it.” Yet, even after hearing this request on behalf of the Lord, the brāhmaṇas did not respond. Absorbed in their rituals, childish in their concerns and proud of their learning, they ignored the plea, their minds set on lesser desires. How strange! The very place, time, materials, mantras, procedures, priests, fires, deities, sacrificer, ritual, and dharma—all these are but manifestations of Him. Yet, the Supreme Brahman, the Lord who is beyond sense perception, they did not recognize. Lacking true insight, they saw him as merely human. They neither said, “Give it to the Yadus,” nor did they refuse outright. Thus, disappointed, the cowherds returned and reported everything to Kṛṣṇa and Rāma. Hearing this, the Lord of the universe laughed softly. Teaching by example, he said to the cowherds, “Now, go to the wives of those brāhmaṇas and tell them that Saṅkarṣaṇa and I have come. Their minds are affectionate and devoted to me; they will gladly give you food.” Obeying the Lord, the cowherds went to the homes of the brāhmaṇas’ wives. They found them adorned and seated, and offered their salutations with respect. “O revered ones,” they said, “please hear our words. Not far from here, we, sent by Kṛṣṇa, are tending the cows. He, accompanied by Rāma and the cowherds, has come a long way and is hungry. Please give him food.” The moment the wives heard that Acyuta had arrived, their hearts leapt in joy. Their minds had long been absorbed in his stories and the thought of seeing him. Without delay, they gathered four kinds of excellent food in vessels and, filled with excitement, hurried toward their beloved, just as rivers rush toward the ocean. Though their husbands, brothers, relatives, and sons tried to stop them, their minds were fixed on the Lord of glorious fame. Sustained by the teachings they had cherished, they pressed on, undeterred. In a grove on the banks of the Yamunā, adorned with fresh aśoka shoots, they saw him—Kṛṣṇa—surrounded by the cowherds and his elder brother, wandering in delight. There he stood, dark as a raincloud, clad in golden garments, adorned with garlands of forest flowers and peacock feathers, dressed like a dancer. A lotus rested on his shoulder, another twirled in his hand, a lily decorated his ear, and his locks framed his radiant cheeks. His face bloomed with a gentle smile. Their minds, ever absorbed in hearing of him, their ears delighted by his presence, they gazed upon him, embracing him within their hearts through their eyes. In that moment, O King, as wise ones, they released all sorrow, having attained what they most desired. Having abandoned all other hopes, they had come to see their very Self. Kṛṣṇa, the seer of all, recognized their hearts and, with a smiling face, addressed them: “Welcome, most fortunate ones! Please be seated. What can I do for you? It is right that you have come here, desiring to see us. Truly wise people, seeking their own good, offer to me, who am dearer than their very selves, devotion that is causeless and unbroken. Life, intellect, mind, self, wives, children, wealth—all these are dear only because of their connection to me. So, who else could truly be dear?” He continued, “Now, return to the sacrificial altar, O wives of the twice-born! Your husbands will complete their sacrifice with your participation.” But the wives replied, “Do not speak so harshly, O Lord! Fulfill the promise of your scriptures at your feet. We have come, leaving all relatives behind, only to gather the dust of your feet adorned with tulasī, to place in our hair. Neither husbands, nor parents, nor children, nor brothers, nor friends—none will accept us now. Therefore, for those of us who have sought refuge at your feet, there is no other shelter. Please grant us this.” The Blessed Lord reassured them: “Let not your husbands, fathers, brothers, sons, or others bear resentment. Even the worlds, the gods, and all beings honor you, for now you are connected with me. Physical association among people is not true love or affection; by fixing your minds on me, you will soon attain me.” Thus addressed, the wives of the brāhmaṇas returned to the sacrificial enclosure. Their husbands, now free of envy, completed the sacrifice together with their wives. One woman, however, was restrained by her husband and could not go. Yet, she embraced the Lord within her heart as she had heard of him, and, giving up her body bound by karma, attained liberation. Govinda, with that very food, fed the cowherds in fourfold ways, and the Lord himself also partook. In this way, the Lord, assuming a human form for his play, delighted the cows, cowherds, and cowherd women with his beauty, words, and deeds. Then, remembering the request made by their wives to the Lords of the universe, the brāhmaṇas realized their error. Seeing the extraordinary devotion of their wives to Lord Kṛṣṇa and recognizing their own lack of devotion, they were filled with remorse and blamed themselves: “Fie upon our birth, our threefold knowledge, our vows, our great learning, our lineage, and our ritual expertise—if we are turned away from the Lord who is beyond sense perception. Truly, the Lord’s māyā is deluding, even for yogis; for we, the teachers of men, are bewildered about our own true welfare, O brāhmaṇas. Behold the steadfastness of these women, who, for Kṛṣṇa, the teacher of the world, even broke the bonds of death called ‘home.