O gentle listener, hear now the tale as revealed through sacred verses. A wise friend addressed another, recalling an ancient companionship. “Do you remember, O friend, when you and I were unknown companions? Once, you departed from me, seeking another place and becoming absorbed in earthly pleasures.” He spoke with affection, remembering their profound bond: “O noble one, we were like swans, friends dwelling together in the lake of the mind. For thousands of years, never did separation come between us.” Yet, change came. “But you abandoned me, O companion, and went to earth with a mind turned toward worldly things. Wandering, you found a place shaped by a certain woman.” He described that place: “There were five gardens, nine gates, one guardian, three chambers, six families, five marketplaces, and a fivefold nature—the abode of that woman.” He explained the symbolism: “The five sense objects are the pleasures; the nine gates are the channels of life; 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, and the lord of power is the person who has entered here, yet does not realize it.” In that place, the friend was touched by Rāma and, delighting, lost memory and hearing. From that association, he fell into a degraded condition. The wise companion revealed, “You are not the daughter of Vidarbha, nor is this hero your friend. You are not the husband of Purañjanī, who confined you at the ninth gate. This is illusion, created by me, by which you see the man and the virtuous woman as real. Neither is true, just as the two swans observe the course of both of us.” He spoke profound truth: “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; by that correction, he regained his lost memory. “O Barhiṣmat,” he concluded, “this has been shown in a spiritual manner, indirectly; for the Lord, creator of the universe, delights in what is indirect.” Now, the story turns to another scene, where 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, with gentle rays, anointed the eastern sky with a reddish hue, rising and cleansing the hearts of the virtuous, like a beloved appearing after long absence. Krishna, seeing the unbroken circle of the moon, radiant as the lotus face, newly tinged with saffron, and the forest adorned by tender cows, sang a sweet, enchanting melody for the lovely-eyed women. Hearing that song, which intensified love’s longing, the women of Vraja, their minds captivated by Krishna, came together, unnoticed by each other, to where their beloved stood, his earrings swinging. Some, while milking, left the task unfinished, eager to go; others, leaving milk on the stove, hurried away without feeding their children. Some, serving food, abandoned their duties; some, while feeding infants, left them; others, attending to their husbands, departed 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, questioned, “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? For the highest good of people, O King, the Supreme Lord—imperishable, immeasurable, beyond the modes, yet the soul of all qualities—manifests Himself. Those who constantly direct desire, anger, fear, affection, unity, or friendship toward Hari, indeed become absorbed in Him. Therefore, you should not be astonished by this, for it is by Krishna, the unborn Lord of all yogic masters, that such liberation is attained.” As the women of Vraja approached Him, the Lord—foremost among speakers—addressed them with charming words, deluding their minds. He said, “Welcome, O most fortunate ones! What may I do to please you? Is all well in Vraja? Please tell me the reason for your coming. This night is fearsome, frequented by fierce creatures; return to Vraja, O 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.” He reminded them, “For women, the highest duty is to serve their husbands sincerely, to care for their relatives, and to nourish their children. Even if a husband is of bad character, unfortunate, old, dull, sick, or poor, he should not be abandoned by women who desire virtue in this world. For noble women, union with a man other than their husband brings no heaven, only disgrace, meager and painful results, fear, and is condemned everywhere. By hearing, seeing, meditating upon, or singing about Me, devotion arises—not so much by physical proximity; therefore, return to your homes.” Thus, through these sacred words and events, the Lord revealed the subtle truths of devotion, duty, and liberation, weaving together the hearts of His devotees with the gentle threads of wisdom and love.