In a sacred land, there was a woman who, though prevented by her husband from physically approaching the Lord, embraced Krishna deeply within her heart, just as she had heard of Him. Through this inner surrender, she cast off her body—bound by karma—and attained the highest liberation. Meanwhile, Lord Govinda, with the very food offered in devotion, graciously fed the cowherds in fourfold ways, and Himself partook of that meal. In His human-like form, assumed for the sake of His divine play, Krishna delighted the cows, the cowherd men, and the cowherd women with His captivating beauty, enchanting words, and wondrous deeds. Then, the brāhmaṇas, recalling the request their wives had made to the Lords of the universe, were filled with regret for having mocked Krishna, not recognizing Him in His human appearance. Witnessing the extraordinary devotion of their wives toward Lord Krishna, and recognizing their own lack of such devotion, they became deeply remorseful and reproached themselves. They lamented, “Alas! What is the worth of our birth, our knowledge of the three Vedas, our vows, our great learning, our noble lineage, and our expertise in ritual, if we are turned away from the Lord who is beyond the senses? Truly, the Lord’s māyā bewilders even yogis. We, who are supposed to guide others, have become confused about our own true welfare. “Behold the steadfastness of these women! For Krishna, the teacher of the world, they broke the bonds of death that is called ‘home.’ These women had no initiation as twice-born, no residence with a spiritual teacher, no austerity, no scriptural inquiry, no ritual purity, nor any auspicious rites. Yet, despite all our refinement and virtues, our devotion to Krishna—the Lord of the exalted, the master of all yogis—is not firm. “Indeed, though we were deluded and distracted by household life, He reminded us of the righteous path through the words of the cowherd women. Otherwise, what need would we 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. “Even Lakshmi, the goddess of fortune, seeking only the touch of His feet, abandons all others and worships Him alone; her request for liberation from her own faults is but a charm to delude people. Place, time, objects, mantras, rituals, priests, fires, deities, the sacrificer, the sacrifice, and dharma—all are composed of Him. “This very Lord, Vishnu, the master of all yogis, has appeared among the Yadus—we have heard so, yet, deluded as we are, we do not truly know Him. How blessed we are, for among us dwell women whose unwavering devotion to Hari has arisen in their hearts. Obeisance to You, O Lord Krishna, of unfailing wisdom; deluded by Your māyā, 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 māyā and who do not recognize His true nature.” Thus, remembering their own offense—even though they had neglected Krishna—the brāhmaṇas did not waver in their desire to see the infallible Lord, despite their fear of Kamsa. They reflected further: “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 the planets only affect each other; to whom should a person direct anger? If karma is the cause, what concern is that for the soul? Karma pertains to the insentient and the sentient, but the person is the conscious self, the suparna; to whom should one be angry, for karma is not the root? If time is the cause, 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. “In truth, by 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; one who is awakened does not fear the elements. Relying on this supreme devotion to the transcendent self, practiced by ancient sages, I will cross the boundless, impassable darkness by serving the feet of Mukunda.” The Blessed Lord then spoke: “Having become indifferent, without 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. Whoever, with a focused mind, holds, recites, or listens to this song sung by the sage, established in Brahman, is not overcome by the dualities of life.’” Śuka continued: The Lord, accompanied by Balarāma, was residing in Vraja and saw the cowherds preparing for a sacrifice to Indra. Though fully aware of all, the Lord—the soul of all and seer of everything—humbly approached the elders, led by Nanda, and inquired, “Father, what is this commotion? What is its purpose, for whom is it intended, and by whom is this sacrifice performed? I greatly desire to know; please tell me, for I am eager to listen. The righteous, devoted in all ways, do not keep their actions secret. “One who is indifferent to friends, neutrals, and enemies, who is impartial and avoids hostility, is called a true friend, seeing others as oneself. People perform actions both knowingly and unknowingly; for the wise, actions bring success, but not so for the unwise. So, what is the purpose of this ritual you have undertaken? Or is it merely customary? Please, speak well and tell me.” Nanda replied, “The god Indra is the lord of rain; the clouds are his very form. They pour down water, which delights and sustains all beings. We and others worship that lord of rain-bringers, the master, with offerings and sacrifices prepared with materials and clarified butter. By what remains from that, people live for the sake of the three aims of life; for human efforts, the rain-god is the cause of their fruits. A man who abandons this traditional dharma, passed down through generations, out of desire, greed, fear, or hatred, does not attain good fortune.” Śuka concluded: Hearing these words of Nanda and the other residents of Vraja, Keśava, wishing to stir up anger toward Indra, spoke to his father.