The Supreme Lord spoke of those devoted to Him with peaceful hearts, saying that such souls never perish. The relentless weapon of Time cannot touch them, for to these devotees, He is as dear as their very Self—beloved as a son, a friend, a teacher, a well-wisher, and their cherished deity. He described how this world and the next, the soul that journeys between them, and all that is considered one’s own—wealth, cattle, homes—are ultimately transient. But those who abandon all else and worship Him alone, the all-pervading Lord, with exclusive devotion, are carried by Him beyond the reach of death. He declared that nowhere else but in Himself—the Supreme Lord of all beings, the master of primordial nature—can the intense fear that haunts the soul of all creatures be truly dispelled. Out of fear of Him, the wind blows, the sun shines, Indra sends rain, fire burns, and even death moves about. Those yogis who possess knowledge and renunciation, who practice the yoga of devotion, enter His feet, which are free from all fear, and find their true well-being there. In this world, He affirmed, the highest good for all is to fix the mind steadily on Him with intense devotion. He then spoke of the city of the body, describing seven gates above, two in front, and two below—each a passage for the movement of sense-objects, presided over by a certain lord. Five gates face east, one to the south, one to the north, and two to the west. Their names and functions were revealed: Two eastern gates, shining like fireflies, were built together, and through them Dyumatsakha travels, illuminating the land. The next pair, named Nalinī and Nālinī, also in the east, are the path of Avadhūtasakha, who enters the fragrant domain. The gate called Mukhyā stands at the front, bustling with shops and food boats; through it, the king of the city enters, accompanied by merchants who know taste. Through the southern gate, Pitṛhū, Purañjana enters the southern Pañcāla region, accompanied by those who carry knowledge. Through the northern gate, Devahū, he enters the northern Pañcāla, also with the carriers of knowledge. The western gate, Āsurī, leads Purañjana into Grāmaka, accompanied by arrogance, while the other western gate, Nirṛti, brings him into Vaiśasa, accompanied by greed. The two lower gates, Andha and Avamīṣā, are silent and skillful; their lord possesses sight and acts through them. When Purañjana 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 and is 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; when she speaks, he answers in turn. When she runs, he runs; when she stands, he stands; when she lies down, he lies beside her; when she sits, 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 she grieves, he grieves with her, feeling sorrow; when she rejoices, he rejoices, sharing her happiness. Thus, deceived by his wife and all her qualities, even when unwilling, the ignorant man imitates her, like a plaything, out of weakness. As this teaching unfolded, Śuka continued his narration. Seeing the extraordinary deeds of Kṛṣṇa, the cowherds of Vraja were amazed. Unaware of His true power, they approached Nanda, recalling the words of the sage Garga. They said to Nanda, “The acts of this boy are truly astonishing. How could he be born among villagers, whose offspring are usually insignificant? How could a child, only seven days old, 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, as Time itself consumes all. When he lay beneath the cart, his tiny feet struck it, overturning the wheel as he cried and kicked. As a one-year-old, he was carried away through the sky by the demon Tṛṇāvarta, but he overcame that great affliction. Once, when his mother tied him to a mortar for stealing butter, he walked between the 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 intended to kill him. When the demon, disguised as a calf, entered among the calves to slay him, Kṛṣṇa 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, drained of pride, and drove him from the lake, purifying the waters of the Yamunā from poison. All the residents of Vraja have an affection for him that cannot be abandoned. 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.” Śrī Nanda replied, “Listen to my words, O cowherds, and let your doubts about the boy be dispelled.