In ancient times, seekers of truth employed various methods to overcome the afflictions of the body and mind. Some, through the power of yogic concentration, mastered postures and controlled their breath, dispelling disturbances by austerity, chanting mantras, or using medicinal herbs. Others sought to eliminate inauspicious influences by meditating upon the Supreme, chanting His holy name, or following the path laid out by the masters of yoga. Wise individuals would establish their bodies as strong and well-formed in youth, then pursue diverse means to attain perfection. Yet, such skill was not to be highly regarded, for all effort spent on the body is ultimately fruitless; the body, like the fruit of a tree, is destined to perish. Even if, through constant yoga practice, one attains a body fit for longevity, the intelligent do not place faith in it, but abandon yoga and devote themselves wholly to the Supreme Lord. A yogi who takes refuge in Him, undisturbed by obstacles and free from desire, experiences true happiness within. In the forest, a beloved woman, unaware that her dearest had departed, sat firmly in her seat, behaving as before. But when she felt no warmth in her husband’s feet as she worshipped him, anxiety filled her heart, like a doe separated from her herd. Helpless and friendless, she mourned for herself, pressing her breasts and crying out in the forest, her tears flowing freely. “Rise, rise, O royal sage!” she lamented, “You must protect this land, encircled by the ocean, which fears the robbers and kṣatriya outcasts.” Grieving, she followed her husband in the forest, falling at his feet and shedding tears without restraint. She built a wooden funeral pyre, placed his body upon it, and prepared to follow him in death, her mind fixed on her sorrow. At that moment, an earlier friend, a self-realized brāhmaṇa, approached and gently consoled her, speaking soothing words. “Who are you?” he asked. “Whose are you? Who is this for whom you grieve? Do you remember me as your friend, with whom you once wandered? Do you recall yourself as my unknown companion, who left me in pursuit of worldly pleasures?” He explained, “You and I were swans, friends dwelling in the lake of the mind; for thousands of years, there was no separation between us. But you abandoned me, O companion, and descended to earth with a worldly mind, wandering until you found a place fashioned by a certain woman: five gardens, nine gates, one guardian, three chambers, six families, five marketplaces, and fivefold nature—the abode of woman. The five sense objects are pleasures; the nine gates are life’s channels; the digestive fires and food are the compartments; the family is the collection of senses. The marketplace is the power of action; the elemental nature is imperishable; the lord of power is the person who has entered, yet does not realize it.” He continued, “There, you, touched by Rāma, lost memory and hearing; from that association, you attained this degraded condition. You are not the daughter of Vidarbha, nor is this hero your friend; you are not the husband of Purañjanī, who was confined by her at the ninth gate. This is illusion, created by me, by which you consider the man and the virtuous woman as real; neither is true, just as the two swans observe the course of both of us. I am you, and you are not other than me; you alone are I—understand this, O friend. The wise never see any flaw between us, not even the slightest. Just as a person sees himself as one, yet as two in the mirror and in his own sight, so too is the inner nature of both of us.” Thus, the swan of the mind, awakened by the swan, returned to his own state and regained his lost memory. “O Barhiṣmat,” said the brāhmaṇa, “this has been shown in a spiritual manner, indirectly; for the Lord, creator of the universe, delights in what is indirect.” As the story unfolds, the Blessed Lord, seeing the nights of autumn adorned with blooming jasmine, desired to enjoy, resorting to His yogic power. The moon, king of stars, rose in the eastern sky, its gentle rays anointing the heavens with a reddish hue, cleansing the hearts of the virtuous like a beloved appearing after a long absence. Krishna, seeing the radiant circle of the moon, glowing like a lotus face tinged with saffron, and the forest adorned by tender cows, sang a sweet, enchanting melody for the lovely-eyed women. Hearing that song, which increased the longing of love, the women of Vraja, whose minds were captivated by Krishna, came together, unnoticed by each other, to where their beloved stood, his earrings swinging. Some left their milking unfinished, eager to go; others left milk on the stove, hurrying away without feeding their children. Some abandoned their duties while serving food; others left their infants while feeding them; some departed from their husbands without finishing their meal. Some, applying ointment or cleaning themselves, others painting their eyes, with garments and ornaments disarranged, hurried to Krishna’s side. Though restrained by husbands, fathers, brothers, and relatives, their hearts stolen by Govinda, they could not be stopped, being enchanted. Some gopīs, unable to leave their homes, remained inside; absorbed in thoughts of Krishna, they meditated on Him with closed eyes. Tormented by the unbearable pain of separation from their beloved, their intense suffering washed away all inauspiciousness; through meditation they attained union with the infallible Lord, and by that bliss, all misfortune was dispelled. Having come together with the Supreme Self—even with the attitude of a lover—they immediately cast off their bodies composed of the modes of nature, their bondage at once destroyed. King Parīkṣit, hearing this, asked, “O sage, the women of Vraja knew Krishna as their supreme beloved, not as Brahman; how could the cessation of the flow of the modes occur for those whose minds were fixed on qualities?” Śuka replied, “This has already been explained to you before—how even the wicked Śiśupāla attained perfection. If one who hated Hṛṣīkeśa was liberated, how much more so those devoted to the transcendent Lord?