Those who direct their hearts—whether through desire, anger, fear, affection, unity, or friendship—toward Hari, gradually become fully absorbed in Him. Such is the power of devotion that even emotions usually considered obstacles become pathways to the Divine. Therefore, do not be surprised, for it is by the grace of Kṛṣṇa, the unborn Lord of all yogic masters, that liberation is attained. Now, let us return to the enchanting night in Vraja, where the women of the village, drawn by irresistible love, approached Kṛṣṇa. Seeing them arrive, the Lord, master of sweet speech, addressed them with charming words that beguiled their minds. He welcomed them warmly, saying, “O most fortunate ones, what may I do to please you? Is all well in Vraja? Please tell Me the reason for your coming.” Yet, with gentle concern, he warned them, “This night is fearsome, frequented by wild creatures; return to Vraja, slender-waisted women, for it is not proper for you to remain here.” He reminded them that their families—mothers, fathers, sons, brothers, and husbands—were searching for them, worried and unable to find them. “Do not cause your relatives anxiety,” he pleaded. Kṛṣṇa pointed out that they had seen the forest adorned with flowers, brightened by the moon, and the Yamunā, whose breeze played among the 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.” Yet, he acknowledged their affection. “Or perhaps, compelled by your deep love for Me, you have come here. This is only natural, for all beings are attracted to Me.” Still, he reminded them of their highest duty: “For women, the highest dharma is to serve their husbands sincerely, care for their relatives, and nourish their children. Even if a husband is of poor character, unfortunate, old, dull, sick, or poor, he should not be abandoned by women who desire virtue. Union with a man other than their husband brings no heaven, only disgrace, meager and painful results, fear, and is condemned everywhere.” He gently taught, “By hearing, seeing, meditating upon, or singing about Me, devotion arises—not so much by physical proximity. Therefore, return to your homes.” Hearing Govinda’s words, so unlike what they had hoped, the gopīs’ hearts shattered. They fell into deep distress and overwhelming anxiety. Their faces were wiped, lips parched from sighs, feet traced the ground, breasts stained with tears mingled with the red of their ornaments. Silent, weighed down by sorrow, longing for Krishna, who had become the sole object of their desire, they brushed their tear-dimmed eyes and, their voices choked, spoke a little. “Do not speak so cruelly, Lord!” they cried. “It does not befit you. Having abandoned all else, we have come to your feet. Cherish your devotees—do not reject us with harshness, just as the Supreme Person does not abandon those who seek liberation.” “You, knower of dharma, have said that a woman’s duty is to serve husband, children, and friends. Let it be so. Yet, O Lord, in you, the teacher of righteousness, you are truly the dearest, the friend and soul of all embodied beings. The wise place their love in you, the eternal beloved. What use are husbands, sons, and others who bring suffering? Therefore, be gracious to us, Supreme Lord—do not sever the hope we have long cherished in you, O lotus-eyed one.” “Our minds, happily stolen away by you, do not return to our homes, nor do our hands engage in household tasks. Our feet will not move from your feet. How, then, can we go to Vraja, or what else can we do?” “O beloved, moisten us with the nectar of your lips, your laughter, glances, and sweet songs that soothe the fire in our hearts. Otherwise, consumed by the fire of separation, we will reach your feet in meditation, friend, leaving these bodies behind.” “O lotus-eyed one, since the moment we touched the soles of your feet—granted even for a moment to Lakṣmī, beloved of the forest-dwellers—we have not been able to stand before anyone else, so enchanted are we by you. Lakṣmī herself longed for the dust of your feet, and though she gained a place on your chest, served by your attendants, she still desired it. For the sake of your glance, even other gods strive. In the same way, we too have surrendered to the dust of your feet.” “Therefore, be gracious to us, destroyer of suffering. We have abandoned our homes, seeking only to serve at your feet. O ornament of men, our hearts burn with intense longing for your beautiful smile and glance—grant us the service of your maidservants.” “Seeing your face framed by locks of hair, your earrings shining on your cheeks, the nectar of your lips, your smiling glances, your arms bestowing fearlessness, and your chest, the sole abode of Lakṣmī, we wish only to be your servants. What woman in the three worlds, enchanted by your sweet, melodious words and divine deeds, would not be captivated? Seeing your beauty, which even cows, birds, trees, and deer behold with delight, who would not be moved?” “Clearly, you have appeared in Vraja to remove fear and suffering, just as the primeval Lord, protector of the gods. O friend of the afflicted, place your lotus hand on the burning breasts and heads of your maidservants.” Hearing their distressed words, the Lord of yogis, though self-satisfied, smiled kindly and delighted in the gopīs. Surrounded by those women, whose faces blossomed with joy at his glance, Acyuta, radiant with a smile like a pair of white jasmine buds, shone among them like the moon among stars. As the chief of hundreds of women sang and was sung to, wearing the Vaijayantī garland, he wandered through the forest, adorning it. Entering the riverbank with the gopīs, on the cool, sandy shore, he sported, delighted by the gentle, fragrant breeze carrying the scent of lotuses. With outstretched arms, embraces, playful struggles, loosened girdles, and the touch of nails, with laughter, glances, and smiles, Krishna aroused the god of love, delighting the beautiful women of Vraja. Having received the favor of the great-souled Lord Krishna, those proud women considered themselves to be the most fortunate on earth. But seeing their pride, born from their good fortune, Keśava disappeared from there at once, to pacify and favor them. Thus ends the twenty-ninth chapter of the first half of the Tenth Canto in the Śrīmad Bhāgavatam Mahāpurāṇa, the scripture for the supreme paramahaṃsas. I bow to that Supreme Person, the foremost, known as Krishna, who, like a bee extracting the essence of the Vedas, imparted the nectar of knowledge and realization to his servants, to remove the fear of worldly existence. Hari is the soul of all embodied beings, the Lord of nature Himself; His feet are the refuge, from which comes safety for people in this world. He alone is the dearest Self, from whom not even the slightest fear arises; he who knows this is truly wise, and such a wise one is the teacher—Hari Himself. Nārada then spoke: “O best of men, your question has thus been answered; now, as I speak, listen attentively to this secret, well-determined matter. A small, wandering creature, seeking shelter among the gentle, becomes attached to the sweet songs of the six-legged ones, greedy for their sound; heedless of the wolves ahead, who are never satisfied, he moves forward, while behind, a deer—wounded by the hunter’s arrow—pursues him.” “The meaning is this: Among women of gentle nature, the shelter of the hermitage is like a flower’s fragrance—very slight. Seeking fleeting pleasure born of desire, one becomes absorbed in union, with the mind fixed there. Like the songs of the six-legged ones, the alluring speech of women captivates the ears. Ahead, like a pack of wolves, time devours one’s lifespan, day and night, unnoticed, as one enjoys life at home. Meanwhile, unseen, the hunter—Death—strikes with his arrow. O King, you should see this self, whose heart is pierced.” Thus, the story reveals the profound path of devotion, the longing of the gopīs, the teachings of Krishna, and the wisdom imparted by Nārada, all culminating in the supreme realization that the soul’s refuge lies at the feet of Hari.