In a beautiful grove along the banks of the Yamuna, lush with the tender shoots of asoka trees, the women—wives of the sacrificial brāhmaṇas—caught sight of him. There, surrounded by his companions, the cowherd boys, and his elder brother Balarāma, Krishna wandered freely, filling the forest with his presence. Their eyes beheld him: his complexion deep as a rain-laden cloud, his form radiant in golden garments. Forest garlands and peacock feathers adorned him, and he was dressed in the manner of a graceful dancer. A lotus blossom rested upon his shoulder; in one hand, he twirled another lotus. His ear was decorated with a lily, and soft curls framed his cheeks. His face, luminous with a blossoming smile, captivated all who saw him. The women’s minds, already steeped in the sweet stories of Krishna—stories they cherished and longed to hear—became wholly absorbed in him. Through their eyes, they drank in his form, and within their hearts, they embraced him closely and deeply. In that intimacy, O King, they, who were wise, released themselves from all sorrow as they wished. Having cast aside every other hope and desire, they had come, yearning to behold the very Self. Krishna, the seer of all hearts, understood their longing and, with a gentle, smiling face, spoke to them: “Welcome, O most fortunate ones! Please be seated. What may I do for you? It is only right that you have come here, seeking to see us.” He continued, “Those who are truly wise and wish for their highest good offer to me, who am dearer than their own selves, a devotion that is causeless and unbroken. Life, intellect, mind, self, wives, children, wealth, and all that is dear become so only through their relationship with me. Who else, then, could truly be dear?” Then Krishna said, “Now, return to the sacrificial altar, O wives of the twice-born! Your husbands, as householders, require your presence to complete their sacrifice.” The women replied, “Do not speak so harshly, O Lord! Fulfill the promise of your holy words, at your feet. We have abandoned all our relatives and come here for one purpose: to gather the dust from your feet, adorned with tulasi, and place it in our hair. Neither our husbands, nor parents, nor children, nor brothers, nor friends—no one will accept us now. So, O subduer of enemies, for us who have fallen at your feet, there is no other refuge. Please grant us this mercy.” Krishna, the Blessed Lord, assured them: “Let there be no resentment from your husbands, fathers, brothers, sons, or others. Even the worlds, the gods, and all beings honor you now, for you are connected with me. Physical association in this world is not the true basis of love or affection. By fixing your minds upon me, you will soon attain me.” Thus addressed, the brāhmaṇas’ wives returned to the sacrificial enclosure. Their husbands, now free from envy, completed the ritual together with their wives. Among them, one woman, whom her husband had restrained from going to Krishna, embraced the Lord within her heart, as she had heard of him. Renouncing her body, which was bound by karma, she attained liberation. Meanwhile, Krishna, known as Govinda, took the very food the women had brought and fed the cowherd boys in fourfold ways, partaking of it himself as well. In this way, the Lord, having assumed a human form for his divine play, delighted the cows, cowherds, and cowherd women with his beauty, his words, and his deeds. Later, the brāhmaṇas remembered the plea their wives had made to Krishna and were filled with remorse for having mocked the Lord, failing to recognize him in his human guise. Witnessing the extraordinary devotion of their wives to Krishna, and realizing their own lack of such devotion, they became deeply repentant and blamed themselves: “Fie upon our birth, our threefold knowledge, our vows, our great learning, our lineage, and our ritual expertise—of what use are these if we are turned away from the Lord who is beyond sense perception?” They lamented, “Truly, the Lord’s maya is bewildering, even for yogis. We, who are supposed to be teachers of men, are ourselves confused about our true welfare. Look at the steadfastness of these women, who, for Krishna—the teacher of the world—broke the bonds of death called ‘home.’ These women had no initiation as twice-born, no residence with a teacher, no austerity, no self-inquiry, no ritual purity, and no auspicious rites. Yet, even with all our refinement and virtues, our devotion to Krishna, Lord of the most exalted, master of all yogis, is not firm.” They continued, “Though deluded about our true welfare and distracted by household life, He has reminded us of the path of righteousness through the words of the cowherd women. Otherwise, what need would we, who are subject to His command, have for boons like liberation or anything else, from Him who is the Lord of all blessings and whose desires are already fulfilled? This is only a display of His divine play.” They reflected, “Lakshmi herself, seeking only the touch of His feet, abandons all others and worships Him even once; her request for liberation from her own faults is only a charming illusion for the people. Place, time, objects, mantras, rituals, priests, fires, deities, the sacrificer, the sacrifice, and dharma—all these are composed of Him. He, this very Lord Vishnu, master of all yogis, has appeared among the Yadus. We have heard so, yet, deluded as we are, we do not truly know Him.” They concluded, “How blessed we are, for among us are such women whose unwavering devotion to Hari has arisen in their hearts. Obeisance to You, O Lord Krishna, of unfailing wisdom; deluded by Your maya, our minds wander along the paths of karma. He, the original person, surely forgives the transgressions of those whose minds are bewildered by His own maya and who do not recognize His true nature.” Remembering their own offense, the brāhmaṇas, though they had neglected Krishna, did not waver in their desire to see the infallible ones, even though they feared Kamsa. They pondered, “If the planets are the cause of happiness and distress for a person, what concern is that for the soul, who is unborn? The wise say that the planets only affect other planets; so, to whom should a person direct anger? If karma is the cause of happiness and distress, what concern is that for the soul? For karma pertains to the insentient and the sentient. This body is but skin, while the person is the conscious self, the suparna; to whom, then, should one be angry? For karma is not the root. If time is the cause of happiness and distress, what concern is that for the soul? For time is of the same nature as the soul. Just as heat is not the property of fire, nor cold of snow, to whom should one be angry? For duality does not belong to another.” They realized, “For no one, anywhere, in any way, does duality arise for the supreme soul, who is beyond all. Just as I am, so is the cycle of birth and death; thus, one who is awakened does not fear the elements. Relying on this supreme devotion to the transcendent self, as practiced by the ancient sages, I will cross the boundless, impassable darkness by serving the feet of Mukunda.” The Blessed Lord then said: “Having become indifferent, bereft of possessions, free from fatigue, wandering the earth as a renunciant, and even when rejected by the wicked, unwavering in his own duty, the sage spoke this verse: ‘No one else but the soul itself is the cause of happiness and distress for a person; friends, neutrals, and enemies are all creations of worldly ignorance. Therefore, O dear one, with all your being, restrain the mind by intelligence fixed in Me; this alone is the essence of yoga.