Nanda, the chief of the cowherds, had just witnessed the extraordinary glory of Krishna, the guardian of the world. He saw how others revered Krishna with deep devotion, and was filled with astonishment. Turning to his kinsmen, Nanda spoke, his heart brimming with wonder at the divine presence among them. The cowherds themselves, eager and curious, pondered within: “Will this Lord show us our own subtle destination? Will Krishna reveal to us where we truly belong?” Their minds were restless with anticipation, longing to glimpse the deeper truth of their existence. Krishna, the Blessed Lord, was aware of the yearning in the hearts of his people. Out of compassion, he resolved to fulfill their desire. He reflected on the condition of people in this world, who, bewildered by ignorance, desire, and action, wander through higher and lower paths, never knowing their own true destination. Moved by this thought, Lord Hari, overflowing with compassion, revealed to the cowherds his own divine realm—a world beyond all darkness. This realm is truth itself, knowledge, infinite—Brahman, the eternal radiance. It is the state that sages behold when the qualities of nature have ceased and their minds are absorbed in unity. Krishna led the cowherds to the lake of Brahman. They were immersed in its waters and then lifted out by Krishna’s own hand. There, they beheld the world of Brahman, the same place where Akrura had once journeyed and witnessed the divine. Nanda and the others, seeing this wondrous place, were overwhelmed with supreme bliss. Amazed, they watched as Krishna was praised with hymns in that sacred realm. At this point, the chapter concludes: Thus ends the twenty-eighth chapter of the first half of the tenth book in the great Purana, Srimad Bhagavata, the scripture cherished by the supreme, swan-like sages. In that divine realm, Krishna imparted profound teachings. He explained that knowledge, discrimination, scripture, austerity, direct perception, tradition, and inference—whatever is present at the beginning and end of these, along with time and causality—exists in the middle as well. Just as gold, fashioned by oneself before and after, is all-pervading in golden objects, so too, amidst various designations, Krishna declared, “I am that.” He continued, “This knowledge is threefold in its states, consisting of the three guṇas—cause, effect, and agent. By their conjunction and separation, only the fourth state is the truth. That which is not before, nor after, nor in the middle, is merely a designation. Whatever is established as existent by the supreme alone truly exists; this is my understanding.” Krishna revealed that what appears to exist but is not real is merely a transformation born of rajas. Brahman itself, being self-luminous, shines forth as the wondrous variety of Brahman, senses, objects, mind, and their modifications. He advised, “By clear reasoning that discerns Brahman, and skill in refuting opposing views, one should cut off self-doubt and become tranquil, satisfied in one’s own bliss, indifferent to all objects of desire. The self is not the body made of earth, nor the senses, nor the gods, demons, wind, water, or fire. Mind is only food, intellect is sattva, ego is space, and earth is the balance of elements.” “How could the senses, composed of guṇas, affect the one whose abode is clearly distinguished? Or what fault is there if they are agitated? Just as clouds, even when present, do not affect the sun once they have departed, so too the imperishable is untouched by sattva, rajas, and tamas—the causes of transmigration in the mind.” He cautioned, “Nevertheless, association with the guṇas, which are creations of māyā, should be avoided until, by firm devotion to me, the impurity of rajas is removed from the mind.” Krishna then spoke of those false yogis, hindered by obstacles created by gods or humans, who again practice yoga by force of previous habit, but not according to the method of karma. Action is performed, and the living being acts, impelled by some cause or by fate; but the wise one, even while situated in nature, having renounced thirst, experiences his own happiness. “Whether standing, sitting, walking, lying down, releasing, or eating food—whatever state the self assumes, the mind established in the self does not know it as anything else. If one perceives an unreal object of the senses, and by various reasoning sees something contrary, the wise do not consider it real—just as, upon waking, a dream disappears.” He explained, “The pattern of guṇas and actions, previously acquired and not distinguished from the self due to ignorance, ceases by mere observation; the self is neither grasped nor abandoned. Just as the rising sun destroys darkness for human eyes but does not create it, so too my keen discernment destroys the darkness of ignorance in a person’s intellect.” “This self-luminous, unborn, immeasurable one is the great experience, the experience of all; the one without a second, when speech ceases, by whom speech and life are directed. This much is the delusion of self: the notion of difference in the pure; apart from the self, there is no support for one’s own self.” “That which is apprehended by name and form, fivefold and uncontradicted—even if meaningless—is mere praise; such duality belongs to those who consider themselves wise.” Krishna described the yogi whose yoga is not yet mature, for whom disturbances in the body may hinder progress. For this, prescribed rules are given. By the power of yogic concentration, some destroy afflictions through postures accompanied by retention; others dispel disturbances with austerity, mantras, and medicinal herbs. Some eliminate inauspicious influences by meditating on Krishna, chanting his name, or following the path of yoga masters. Certain wise ones establish the body as stable and well-formed in youth, and then engage in various methods to attain perfection. But Krishna advised, “Such skill is not to be esteemed, for that effort is fruitless. Since the body is perishable, like the fruit of a tree, if through constant practice of yoga the body becomes fit for longevity, the intelligent should not place faith in it, but abandon yoga and devote themselves to me. A yogi who pursues this practice of yoga, taking refuge in me, remains undisturbed by obstacles, free from desire, and experiences his own happiness.” He gave an analogy: “When the beloved woman, unaware that her dearest has departed, sits firmly in her seat, she behaves as before. When she does not feel warmth in her husband’s feet while worshipping him, she sits with an anxious heart, like a doe separated from her herd. She grieves for herself, helpless and friendless, weeping with tears; pressing her breasts in the forest, she cries out in a clear voice, ‘Rise, rise, O royal sage! You must protect this land encircled by the ocean, which fears the robbers and kṣatriya outcasts.’” Thus lamenting, the young woman followed her husband in the forest; falling at his feet, she shed tears without restraint. And so the chapter closes, with the cowherds having witnessed the divine realm and received Krishna’s teachings on the nature of self, Brahman, yoga, and devotion.