With her beloved husband departed from this world, the devoted queen sorrowfully constructed a wooden funeral pyre. Placing her husband’s body upon it, she prepared to follow him in death, her heart overwhelmed with lamentation. At that moment, an old friend appeared—a self-realized brāhmaṇa, gentle and wise. Seeing her weep, he approached and spoke kindly, seeking to console her in her time of grief. He asked her, “Who are you? Whose are you? Who is this for whom you grieve? Do you remember me, your friend with whom you once wandered? Recall, dear companion, how you and I were like two swans, inseparable, dwelling together in the lake of the mind for thousands of years, never parted. “But, O noble one, you left me behind and descended to earth, your mind drawn to worldly pleasures. As you wandered, you came upon a place fashioned by a certain woman—a wondrous abode with five gardens, nine gates, one guardian, three chambers, six families, five marketplaces, and a fivefold nature. This was the dwelling of that woman. “The five gardens are the sense pleasures, the nine gates are the channels of life, the three chambers are the digestive fires and food, the families are the senses, and the marketplaces are the powers of action. The elemental nature is imperishable, and the lord of power is the one who enters, yet does not realize his own true nature. “There, touched by Rāma, you delighted and forgot yourself—losing memory and hearing. From that association, you fell into this degraded condition. But know this: you are not truly the daughter of Vidarbha, nor is this hero your true friend; you are not the husband of Purañjanī, who confined you at the ninth gate. All this is illusion, created by me, by which you perceive the man and the virtuous woman as real, yet neither is true. Just as the two swans observe the course of both of us, so is your true self. “I am you, and you are not different from me; you alone are I—understand this, my friend. The wise see no distinction between us, not even the slightest. Just as a person sees himself as one, yet as two in a mirror and in his own sight, so is the inner nature of us both. “Thus, the swan of the mind, awakened by the swan, returned to his own true state. By this correction, he regained his lost memory. O Barhiṣmat, this has been spoken in a spiritual, indirect manner, for the Lord, creator of the universe, delights in what is indirect.” Meanwhile, as autumn nights blossomed with jasmine, the Blessed Lord, Krishna, beheld their beauty and, resorting to His yogic power, desired to enjoy them. The moon, king of the stars, rose in the eastern sky, its gentle rays spreading a reddish hue and cleansing the hearts of the virtuous like the return of a beloved after long absence. Seeing the full, radiant moon, its face like a lotus tinged with saffron, and the forest adorned by tender cows, Krishna sang a sweet, enchanting melody, calling to the lovely-eyed women of Vraja. Hearing that song, which stirred the deepest longing in their hearts, the women, captivated by Krishna, quietly left their homes—unnoticed by one another—to where their beloved stood, his earrings swinging. Some, while milking cows, abandoned their task in eagerness; others, leaving milk boiling on the stove, hurried away without feeding their children. Some left while serving food; others departed while feeding their infants. Some, attending to their husbands, left their meals unfinished. Others, still applying ointments or cleaning themselves, or painting their eyes, with garments and ornaments disarranged, rushed to Krishna’s side. Though their husbands, fathers, brothers, and relatives tried to restrain them, their hearts had been stolen by Govinda. Enchanted, they could not be held back. Some, unable to leave their homes, remained inside, but their minds absorbed in 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 beloved, not as Brahman. How could the cessation 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? For the highest good of all, the Supreme Lord—imperishable, immeasurable, beyond the modes, yet the soul of all qualities—manifests Himself. Those who direct their desire, anger, fear, affection, unity, or friendship toward Hari become absorbed in Him. Therefore, do not be astonished; it is by Krishna, the unborn Lord of all yogic masters, that such liberation is attained.” As the women of Vraja approached, Krishna, the foremost among speakers, addressed them with charming words, delighting and at the same time testing their minds. He said, “Welcome, O most fortunate ones! What may I do to please you? Is all well in Vraja? Tell me, what brings you here? “This night is fearsome, haunted by wild creatures; return to Vraja, slender-waisted women, for it is not proper for you to remain here. Your mothers, fathers, sons, brothers, and husbands are searching for you, unable to find you; do not cause your relatives anxiety. You have seen the forest adorned with flowers, brightened by the moon, and the Yamunā, whose breeze plays among the beautiful budding trees. Now, do not delay—return to the cowherd village, serve your husbands faithfully; the calves and children are crying—go, feed and milk them. “Or perhaps, compelled by your deep affection for Me, you have come here. This is natural, for all beings are attracted to Me. Yet for women, the highest duty is to serve their husbands sincerely, to care for their relatives, and to nourish their children.” Thus, the Lord spoke, His words both gentle and profound, revealing the path of duty and the mystery of divine love.