Within the wondrous city of nine gates, two portals named Nalinī and Nālinī stood side by side in the east. Through these fragrant entrances, Avadhūtasakha would enter, drawn by their sweet scents. At the forefront of the city was the gate called Mukhyā, bustling with many shops and food boats; it was through this main entrance that the lord of the city would pass, accompanied by merchants well-versed in the pleasures of taste. To the south, a gate named Pitṛhū opened into the southern Pañcāla region, and Purañjana would enter there, joined by those who carried the lamp of knowledge. In the north stood the gate Devahū, leading into the northern Pañcāla, where again Purañjana would journey with companions of wisdom. On the western side, the gate Āsurī opened into the territory called Grāmaka, and through it, Purañjana would enter, accompanied by arrogance. Another western gate, Nirṛti, led to the region of Vaiśasa, and there Purañjana would go, this time in the company of greed. Within the city were two silent and skillful gates, Andha and Avamīṣā. Their lord, endowed with sight, would pass through them and act according to his will. When he entered the innermost chambers, accompanied by Viṣūcī, he would experience bewilderment, pleasure, or joy, all arising from his wife and children. Thus absorbed in various actions, driven by desire and shrouded in ignorance, he followed wherever his queen led, her wishes guiding his every step. Sometimes, when she drank, he too would drink, sharing her intoxication; when she ate, he ate; when she delighted, he delighted with her. If she sang, he sang; if she wept, he wept; if she laughed, he laughed; and when she spoke, he replied in turn. When she ran, he ran; when she stood, he stood; when she lay down, he lay beside her; and when she sat, he sat with her. If she listened, he listened; if she looked, he looked; if she smelled, he smelled; and if she touched, he touched. So closely was he bound to her that when she grieved, he too would grieve, sharing her sorrow; and when she rejoiced, he rejoiced, partaking in her happiness. In this way, deceived by his wife and all her qualities, even when unwilling, the ignorant man imitated her in all things—like a plaything in her hands, helpless and weak. *** Śuka then spoke: O King, as the extraordinary deeds of Kṛṣṇa unfolded before their eyes, the cowherds, filled with wonder and unaware of his true greatness, approached Nanda, recalling the words once spoken by the sage Garga. They said, “How astonishing are the acts of this boy! How could such a child be born among us villagers, whose offspring are usually scorned? How could a mere seven-day-old child lift a mighty mountain with one hand, as effortlessly as the king of elephants lifts a lotus? “With his eyes only half open in childish innocence, he drank the breast milk of the fearsome Pūtanā, taking her very life as time itself devours all. When he lay beneath the cart, his tiny feet struck it, causing the wheel to fall as he cried and kicked. As a one-year-old, he was carried off into the sky by the demon Tṛṇāvarta, who seized him by the neck, yet the child overcame that great affliction. “Once, when his mother tied him to a mortar for stealing butter, he crawled between two arjuna trees and caused them to fall with his arms. In the forest, tending calves with other boys, he tore apart the demon Baka’s beak with his hands, though Baka sought to kill him. When another demon, disguised as a calf, mingled among the herd to slay him, Kṛṣṇa slew him and playfully knocked down kapittha fruits. “He killed the ass-demon and his powerful companions, making the tāla grove safe and filled with ripe fruit. By his strength, he slew the fierce Pralamba demon and rescued the cows and cowherds from a forest fire. He subdued the mighty serpent king, drained of his pride, and drove him from the lake, thus purifying the waters of the Yamunā from poison. “All the residents of Vraja feel an affection for him that cannot be abandoned. O Nanda, how could such unwavering love arise in us for your son? How could a seven-day-old child perform the feat of holding up a mountain? O leader of Vraja, these wonders fill us with doubt about your son’s true nature.” Nanda replied, “Listen well, dear friends, and let your doubts be dispelled. The wise sage Garga once spoke to me about this child. He said that in previous ages, he had assumed three colors: white, red, and yellow; now, he has taken on a dark complexion. “In times past, this illustrious one was born as the son of Vasudeva; now, he is my son. The wise call him Vāsudeva. He has many names and forms, each befitting his qualities and deeds. Though I know them, others do not. “This delight of the cowherds and Gokula will bring you all prosperity. By him, you will easily overcome all dangers. Long ago, when the virtuous were oppressed by robbers in a land without a king, he protected them and, united, they defeated the bandits. “Those who are fortunate enough to love him are never overcome by misfortune, just as demons cannot defeat those protected by Viṣṇu. Therefore, my son is equal to Nārāyaṇa in qualities, in fortune, in fame, and in influence. There is nothing surprising in his wondrous deeds. “Thus instructed by Garga, who then returned to his home, I have come to see Kṛṣṇa, the doer of effortless deeds, as a portion of Nārāyaṇa himself.” Hearing Nanda’s words and the teachings of Garga, the people of Vraja, having witnessed and heard of Kṛṣṇa’s immeasurable brilliance, honored both Nanda and Kṛṣṇa with joyful hearts, their doubts dispelled. When Indra, enraged by the disruption of his sacrifice, sent torrents of rain, hail, and fierce wind upon Vraja, the cowherds and their cattle were distressed and afraid. Seeing Kṛṣṇa, their only refuge, standing before them with a compassionate smile, he uprooted the great mountain with one hand—as easily as a child lifts a toy—and held it aloft to shelter the entire community. Thus, Indra, proud of his power, could not prevail over the cows, for Kṛṣṇa’s grace protected them all.