Sometimes, when his wife would sing, the man would sing along with her; when she wept, he would also weep. If she laughed, he would laugh, and when she spoke, he would reply in turn. When she ran, he ran after her; when she stood still, he would stand; if she lay down, he would lie beside her, and sometimes he would simply sit with her. When she listened, he would listen; when she looked at something, he would look as well; when she smelled, he would smell, and when she touched, he would touch. If his wife was grieving, he too would feel sorrow and grieve with her; and when she rejoiced, he would rejoice, sharing in her happiness. In this way, the ignorant man, though sometimes unwilling, was led by his wife’s qualities and actions. Out of weakness, he imitated her like a plaything, deceived by her charms. Meanwhile, Śuka continued his narration. The cowherds, witnessing the extraordinary deeds of Kṛṣṇa, were filled with wonder. Unaware of his true power, they approached Nanda and spoke, recalling the words of the sage Garga. They said, “How astonishing are the acts of this boy! How could he have been born among us villagers, whose children are usually insignificant? How could this child, only seven days old, hold up a great mountain with one hand, as effortlessly as the king of elephants lifts a lotus flower? Even as a tiny infant, with his eyes barely open, he drank the milk of the powerful Pūtanā and with it took her very life, just as time takes the lives of all beings. Once, when lying beneath a cart, he kicked it with his little feet and overturned the wheel, all while crying. As a one-year-old, he was carried off into the sky by the demon Tṛṇāvarta, who seized him by the neck, yet Kṛṣṇa overcame that great danger. “When his mother bound him to a mortar for stealing butter, he crawled between two arjuna trees and caused them to fall with his arms. In the forest, while tending calves and surrounded by his friends, he tore apart the mouth of the demon Baka, even though Baka intended to kill him. When a demon, disguised as a calf, entered among the calves to harm him, Kṛṣṇa slew him and playfully knocked down the kapittha fruits. He destroyed the ass-demon and his companions, making the tāla grove safe and filled with ripe fruit. With his strength, he slew the fierce Pralamba demon and saved the cows and cowherds from a forest fire. He subdued the proud serpent king and drove him from the lake, making the waters of the Yamunā pure and free from poison. “All the residents of Vraja feel an unbreakable affection for him. Nanda, how could such spontaneous love arise in us for your son? How can a seven-day-old child perform the feat of lifting a great mountain? O leader of Vraja, these wonders make us question: who is your son, truly?” Nanda replied to the cowherds, “Listen to my words, friends, and let your doubts be dispelled. The sage Garga spoke to me about this child. He told me that Kṛṣṇa has appeared in three colors in different ages: white, red, and yellow; now, he has taken on a dark complexion. In a previous birth, this illustrious one was born as the son of Vasudeva; now, he is my son. The wise call him Vāsudeva. Your son has many names and forms, each suited to his qualities and deeds; I know them, but the people at large 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 together they defeated the bandits. Those fortunate enough to develop affection for him are not overcome by misfortune, just as those protected by Viṣṇu are not harmed by demons. “Therefore, this son of Nanda is equal to Nārāyaṇa in qualities, fortune, fame, and influence. There is no wonder in his actions. Having been directly instructed by Garga, and with the sage returning home, I consider Kṛṣṇa, the doer of effortless deeds, to be a portion of Nārāyaṇa.” Hearing Nanda’s words and recalling Garga’s song, the residents of Vraja, who had witnessed and heard of Kṛṣṇa’s immeasurable brilliance, honored Nanda and Kṛṣṇa with joy, their doubts dispelled. They remembered how, when the god Indra, angered by the disruption of his sacrifice, sent torrents of rain, hail, and wind, the cowherds and their cattle were distressed. Seeing Kṛṣṇa, their only refuge, smiling with compassion, he lifted up the mountain with one hand, as easily as a child lifts a toy, and sheltered the whole community. Thus, Indra, proud of his power, was humbled and not pleased with the cows. Thus ends the twenty-sixth chapter of the first part of the tenth book of the Śrīmad Bhāgavatam, the great Purāṇa, the scripture of the supreme renunciates. The saints, unattached and absorbed in the Lord, are peaceful, seeing all equally, free from possessiveness and ego, undisturbed by dualities, and without greed. Among such blessed souls, O fortunate one, my stories are always recited; these tales purify those who cherish them, removing all sin. Those who listen, sing, or honor these stories with respect, who are devoted and faithful, attain devotion to me. For the saint who has attained devotion, what else remains to be achieved, when he finds bliss in me, the infinite, the embodiment of Brahman and joy? Just as approaching a blazing fire dispels cold, fear, and darkness, so does the company of saints remove the afflictions of the world. For those who are tossed about in the dreadful ocean of existence, the saints—knowers of Brahman and peaceful—are like a sturdy boat, rescuing those who are drowning. Food is the life of living beings; I am the refuge for the distressed; righteousness is the true wealth of people after death; and saints are the shelter for those who fear in this world. Saints give vision, like the rising sun; gods, relatives, saints, and I myself are all saints. Thus, Vaitasena, even after Urvashi, indifferent to worldly realms and free from attachment, wandered this earth, delighting in the self.