The cowherds of Vraja gathered together, marveling at the extraordinary deeds of young Krishna. They whispered among themselves, “How astonishing are the acts of this boy! How could a child born among simple villagers—whose children are often scorned—display such wonders?” They recalled with awe how, at just seven days old, Krishna had effortlessly lifted the mighty Govardhana mountain with one hand, as easily as the king of elephants lifts a lotus flower. They remembered his innocent, half-open eyes as an infant, drinking the milk of the fierce demoness Pūtanā, along with her very life, just as time consumes all creatures. Once, while lying beneath a cart, Krishna’s tiny feet struck it as he cried and kicked, causing the wheel to collapse and overturn. The villagers recounted how, when Krishna was only a year old, the demon Tṛṇāvarta snatched him up and carried him through the sky, grasping his neck, yet Krishna overcame the demon’s great affliction. Another time, his mother, Yashoda, tied him to a mortar for stealing butter, and Krishna walked between two arjuna trees, causing them to fall with his arms. As he grew, Krishna tended calves in the forest, surrounded by his friends. There, he tore apart the mouth of the demon Baka with his hands, though Baka intended to kill him. When another demon, disguised as a calf, entered among the herd to harm Krishna, 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 abundant with ripe fruit. The cowherds remembered how Krishna, by his strength, slew the fierce Pralamba demon and freed the cows and cowherds from a raging forest fire. He subdued the proud serpent king, driving him from the lake and purifying the waters of the Yamunā, making them free from poison. All the residents of Vraja felt an affection for Krishna that could not be abandoned. They wondered aloud, “Nanda, how could such innate love arise in us for your son?” The cowherds questioned, “How can a seven-day-old child perform the feat of holding up a great mountain? O leader of Vraja, we have doubts about your son.” Nanda, Krishna’s father, addressed the cowherds, “Listen to my words, O friends, and let your doubts be dispelled. The sage Garga, wise among the Yadus, spoke to me about this child. He told me that Krishna has assumed three colors in successive ages—white, red, and yellow—and now he appears with a dark complexion. Previously, this illustrious one was born as the son of Vasudeva; now, he is my son. The wise call him Vāsudeva.” Nanda continued, “Your son has many names and forms, corresponding to his qualities and deeds. I know them, but the people do not. This delight of the cowherds and of Gokula will bring you all prosperity. By him, you will easily overcome all dangers. In ancient times, O chief of Vraja, the virtuous were oppressed by robbers in a land without a king, and he protected them, defeating the bandits as they united together.” He explained, “Those fortunate people who develop affection for Krishna are not overcome by misfortune, just as demons cannot overcome those protected by Vishnu. Therefore, this son of Nanda is equal to Narayana in qualities, fortune, fame, and influence; thus, there is no wonder in his actions. Having been directly instructed by Garga, I consider Krishna, the doer of effortless deeds, to be a portion of Narayana.” Upon hearing Nanda’s words and the teachings of sage Garga, the residents of Vraja, having witnessed and heard of Krishna’s immeasurable brilliance, joyfully honored Nanda and Krishna, their hearts free from astonishment. They remembered the time when Indra, angered by the disruption of his sacrifice, sent torrents of rain, hail, and wind. The cowherds and their cattle were distressed, but seeing Krishna, their only refuge, smiling with compassion, he uprooted the mountain with one hand, as easily as a child lifts a toy, and held it aloft, sheltering the entire cowherd community. Indra, proud of his power, was not pleased with the cows. Thus concludes the twenty-sixth chapter of the first part of the tenth book in the Śrīmad Bhāgavatam, the great Purāṇa, the scripture revered by the supreme renunciates. The Lord spoke of the saints: unattached, absorbed in Him, peaceful, seeing all equally, free from possessiveness and ego, undisturbed by dualities, and without greed. Among them, O fortunate one, His stories always arise among the most blessed, purifying those who cherish them and removing sin. Those who listen, sing, or approve of these stories with respect, who are devoted and faithful, attain devotion to Him. For the saint who has attained devotion, nothing else remains to be achieved, for he experiences bliss in the infinite—Brahman, the embodiment of joy. Just as one who approaches a blazing fire dispels cold, fear, and darkness, so does one who associates with the saints. For those who are sinking and rising in the dreadful ocean of existence, the saints—knowers of Brahman and peaceful—are like a sturdy boat for those immersed in water. Food is the life of living beings; the Lord is the refuge for the distressed; righteousness is wealth for people after death; saints are the shelter for those who fear in this world. Saints give vision, like the rising sun; gods, relatives, saints, and the Lord Himself—all are saints. Thus, Vaitasena, even after Urvashi, indifferent to worldly realms and free from attachment, wandered this earth, delighting in the self. Softness and hardness, coldness and heat—these are the qualities of touch, the subtle element of air. Movement, gathering, acquisition, leadership among objects and sounds, and the essence of all senses—these are the characteristic actions of air. From the subtle element of touch belonging to air, and by divine influence, form arose. Then, light emerged, and the eye became the means of perceiving form. The state of being a substance, the quality of being a property, the condition of being an individual entity—these are the functions of pure form for fire, O virtuous one. Illumination, cooking, heating, burning, dispelling cold—these are the functions of fire; as also drying, and causing hunger and thirst. From pure form, transformed by fire and impelled by the divine, arose pure taste; from that, water, and the tongue as the organ for perceiving taste.