Within the wondrous city of nine gates, two eastern portals were constructed side by side, shining like fireflies at dawn. Through these gates, Dyumatsakha would travel, spreading his radiance across the land. Alongside these, two more gates in the east, both named Nalinī, were built together, and through them, Avadhūtasakha would enter, bringing fragrance to the realm. At the front of the city stood the gate called Mukhyā, bustling with many shops and boats laden with food. Through this main entrance, the king himself would enter, accompanied by skilled merchants who understood the pleasures of taste. To the south, there was the gate named Pitṛhū. Through it, Purañjana would pass into the southern Pañcāla region, surrounded by those who bore knowledge. To the north, the gate called Devahū opened into the northern Pañcāla region, again with Purañjana entering, accompanied by companions of wisdom. On the western side, the gate named Āsurī led to the territory called Grāmaka, and Purañjana would traverse this path, accompanied by arrogance. Another western gate, Nirṛti, opened into the region called Vaiśasa, where Purañjana would go, this time with greed as his companion. Within the city, two gates named Andha and Avamīṣā stood silent and skillful. Their lord, gifted with sight, would pass through them and act according to his will. When Purañjana entered the inner chambers, accompanied by Viṣūcī, he would become absorbed in delusion, experiencing pleasure or joy that arose from his wife and children. Thus entangled in actions and driven by desires, deceived and ignorant, he would follow wherever his queen led him. Sometimes, when she drank, he too would drink wine and become intoxicated; when she ate, he ate; when she enjoyed, he would enjoy with her. At times, when she sang, he would sing along; when she wept, he would weep; when she laughed, he would laugh, and when she spoke, he would answer in turn. If she ran, he would run; if she stood, he would stand; if she lay down, he would lie beside her, and sometimes he would sit with her. When she listened, he listened; when she looked, he looked; when she smelled, he smelled; and when she touched, he touched as well. If ever she grieved, he would grieve with her, feeling her sorrow; if she rejoiced, he would share her happiness. In this way, deceived by his wife and all her qualities, even when unwilling, the ignorant man would imitate her, like a plaything, out of weakness. *** At this time, Śuka spoke: Witnessing such extraordinary deeds performed by Kṛṣṇa, the astonished cowherds, unaware of his true power, approached Nanda. They recalled the words of the sage Garga and spoke among themselves: “These acts of the boy are truly astonishing! How could such a child be born among villagers, whose offspring are usually disregarded? How could this child, only seven days old, effortlessly lift and hold aloft the great mountain with a single hand, just as the king of elephants lifts a lotus? With his eyes only half-open in childish innocence, he drank the breast milk of the mighty Pūtanā, along with her very life, just as time consumes all beings. As an infant lying below, his tiny feet struck the cart, causing the wheel to fall and overturn as he cried and kicked. When he was only a year old, he was carried away through the sky by the demon Tṛṇāvarta, who seized him by the neck, but the child overcame that great affliction. Once, when his mother had tied him to a mortar for stealing butter, he walked between two arjuna trees and caused them to fall with his arms alone. In the forest, while tending calves and surrounded by other boys, he tore apart the mouth of the demon Baka with his hands, though Baka intended to kill him. When a demon, disguised as a calf, entered among the calves to kill him, he slew that demon and, with playful ease, knocked down 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 rescued the cows and cowherds from the forest fire. He subdued the great serpent king, draining him of his pride and driving him from the lake, thus making the waters of the Yamunā free from poison. All the residents of Vraja have an affection for him that cannot be abandoned. Nanda, how could such deep, spontaneous love arise in us for your son? How could a child, only seven days old, perform the feat of holding up a great mountain? O leader of Vraja, we have doubts about your son.” Hearing their concerns, Śrī Nanda replied: “Listen to my words, O cowherds, and let your doubts be set aside. Regarding this child, the sage Garga, of the Yadu lineage, spoke to me. He has assumed three colors in successive ages: white, red, and yellow. Now, he has taken on a dark complexion. Previously, this illustrious one was born as the son of Vasudeva; now, he is my son. The wise know him as Vāsudeva. Your son has many names and forms, corresponding to his qualities and deeds. I know them, though people in general do not. This delight of the cowherds and Gokula will bring you all prosperity. By him, you will easily overcome all dangers. In ancient times, O chief of Vraja, the virtuous, when oppressed by robbers in a land without a king, were protected by him, and they defeated the bandits by coming together. Those fortunate people who develop affection for him are not overcome by misfortune, just as demons cannot overcome those protected by Viṣṇu. Therefore, this son of Nanda is equal to Nārāyaṇa in qualities, fortune, fame, and influence; thus, there is no wonder in his actions. Having been directly instructed by Garga, and with the sage returning to his own house, I consider Kṛṣṇa, the doer of effortless deeds, to be a portion of Nārāyaṇa.” Hearing these words of Nanda and the song of Garga, the residents of Vraja, having witnessed and heard of Kṛṣṇa’s immeasurable brilliance, joyfully honored both Nanda and Kṛṣṇa, now free from all astonishment.