Those who truly know my power as the Lord of Māyā, endowed with eightfold sovereignty, do not yearn even for the blessed fortune of the goddess of prosperity; for such souls, in this world, attain my supreme state. My devotees, peaceful and steadfast, never perish; the weapon of Time itself cannot touch them. To those for whom I am as dear as their own Self, their son, friend, teacher, well-wisher, and cherished deity, I become their all. This world, the next, the soul that journeys between them, and all that is considered one’s own—be it wealth, cattle, or homes—must ultimately be relinquished. But those who abandon all else and worship me alone, the all-pervading, with exclusive devotion, I personally carry them beyond the reach of death. Nowhere else but in me, the Supreme Lord of all beings, the master of primordial nature, is the intense fear that haunts the soul of all creatures dispelled. It is out of fear of me that the wind blows, the sun shines, Indra sends the rain, fire burns, and death itself moves about in the world. Yogis, endowed with knowledge and renunciation, through the yoga of devotion, reach my feet, which are free from all fear, and thus find true well-being. For all people, this alone is the highest good: to keep the mind, with intense devotion, steadily fixed on me. O King, consider the human body as a city with seven gates above, two in front, and two below; each is an opening for the movement of sense-objects, and within them dwells a certain lord. Of these, five gates are to the east, one to the south, one to the north, and two to the west. Hear now their names. Like twin fireflies, two eastern gates stand together; through them, Dyumatsakha travels, illuminating the land. Two more, named Nalinī and Nālinī, also stand in the east; through them, Avadhūtasakha enters the fragrant domain. At the front is a gate called Mukhyā, busy with many shops and food boats; through it, the king of the city enters, accompanied by merchants who know the pleasures of taste. Through the southern gate named Pitṛhū, Purañjana enters the southern Pañcāla region, accompanied by bearers of knowledge. Through the northern gate called Devahū, he enters the northern Pañcāla, also accompanied by those who carry knowledge. Through the western gate named Āsurī, Purañjana enters the territory of Grāmaka, accompanied by arrogance. Through the western gate named Nirṛti, he enters the region called Vaiśasa, accompanied by greed. There are two city gates named Andha and Avamīṣā, silent and skillful; their lord, who possesses sight, passes through them and acts. When he enters the inner chambers, accompanied by Viṣūcī, he experiences delusion, pleasure, or joy arising from his wife and children. Absorbed in actions, driven by desire, deceived and ignorant, he follows whatever his queen wishes. Sometimes, when she drinks, he too drinks wine, intoxicated; when she eats, he eats; when she enjoys, he enjoys with her. When she sings, he sings; when she weeps, he weeps; when she laughs, he laughs, and when she speaks, he too speaks. When she runs, he runs; when she stands, he stands; when she lies down, he lies beside her, and sometimes he sits with her. When she listens, he listens; when she looks, he looks; when she smells, he smells; when she touches, he touches. When his wife grieves, he grieves with her, feeling her sorrow; when she rejoices, he too rejoices, sharing her happiness. Thus, deceived by his wife and all her qualities, even when unwilling, the ignorant man imitates her in all things, like a plaything, out of weakness. Then Śuka spoke: Seeing such extraordinary deeds performed by Kṛṣṇa, the cowherds of Vraja, amazed and unaware of his true power, approached Nanda and spoke, recalling the words once spoken by the sage Garga. They said, “These acts of this boy are truly astonishing! How could such a child be born among villagers, whose offspring are usually despised? How could a child, only seven days old, so effortlessly hold aloft the great mountain with a single hand, just as the king of elephants lifts a lotus? With his eyes only partly open in childish innocence, he drank the breast milk of the mighty Pūtanā, along with her very life, just as time consumes the lives of all. “As an infant, lying below, his feet struck the cart and, as he cried and kicked, the wheel fell down, overturned. When he was just a year old, the demon Tṛṇāvarta seized him and carried him away through the sky, but this little one overcame that great affliction. Once, when his mother tied him to a mortar for stealing butter, he walked between two arjuna trees and caused them to fall with his arms. “In the forest, tending calves with other boys, he tore apart the mouth of the demon Baka with his hands, though Baka had come to kill him. When the demon, disguised as a calf, entered among the herd to slay him, he slew him and, with playful ease, knocked down the kapittha fruits. He killed the ass-demon and his powerful companions, making the tāla grove safe and filled with ripe fruits. By his strength, he slew the fierce Pralamba demon and freed the cows and cowherds from the forest fire. “He subdued the great serpent king, draining him of pride and driving him from the lake, thus making the waters of the Yamunā free from poison. All the residents of Vraja have for him an affection that cannot be abandoned. O Nanda, how could such innate love arise in us for your son? How can a seven-day-old child perform the feat of holding up a great mountain? Therefore, O leader of Vraja, we have doubts about your son.” Thus, filled with wonder, the cowherds pondered the divine nature of Kṛṣṇa, marveling at his deeds and the mysterious love that bound them all to him.