Śuka began, describing how Lord Krishna, the master of yogis, listened to the gopīs’ words filled with distress. Though he was self-satisfied, Krishna smiled gently, his heart delighting in the gopīs’ presence. As he glanced at them, their faces blossomed with joy, and surrounded by these radiant women, Acyuta shone with a smile as pure and luminous as white jasmine buds, appearing among them like the moon among stars. The chief among hundreds of women sang to Krishna and was sung to by him, as he wandered through the forest adorned with his Vaijayantī garland, beautifying the woods with his presence. Together with the gopīs, he entered the riverbank, where the cool sand and the gentle, fragrant breeze—carrying the scent of lotuses—filled the air. There, Krishna sported joyfully, delighting in the company of the gopīs. With arms outstretched in embraces, playful struggles, loosened girdles, and the touch of nails, Krishna laughed, exchanged glances and smiles, and awakened the god of love in the hearts of the beautiful women of Vraja. Having received Krishna’s favor, these proud gopīs felt themselves to be the most fortunate women on earth. But seeing their pride, born from their sense of good fortune, Krishna—Keśava—vanished from their midst at once, to pacify and ultimately favor them. Thus concludes the twenty-ninth chapter of the first half of the Tenth Canto of the Śrīmad Bhāgavatam Mahāpurāṇa, the sacred scripture for the supreme paramahaṃsas. Śuka then bowed to that Supreme Person, Krishna, who, like a bee extracting the essence of the Vedas, imparted the nectar of knowledge and realization to his servants, dispelling the fear of worldly existence. Hari is the soul of all embodied beings, the very Lord of nature itself; his feet are the refuge from which safety arises for all people in this world. He alone is the dearest Self, from whom not even the slightest fear arises. One who knows this is truly wise, and such a wise one is the teacher—Hari himself. Then Nārada spoke: “O best of men, your question has been answered. Now listen carefully as I reveal a secret, well-determined matter. Imagine a small, wandering creature seeking shelter among gentle beings. It becomes attached to the sweet songs of the six-legged ones, greedy for their sound, and moves forward heedless of the wolves ahead, who are never satisfied. Behind it, 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 the faint fragrance of a flower. Seeking fleeting pleasure born of desire, one becomes absorbed in union, the mind fixed there. The alluring speech of women captivates the ears, like the songs of the six-legged ones. 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. Therefore, observe the behavior of the deer and restrain your mind within your heart, as a charioteer holds the reins of his horses. Abandon the company of women and the songs of the herd, and gradually take refuge in the shelter of the Swan. Be satisfied and withdraw, step by step. The king replied: ‘O brāhmaṇa, I have heard and reflected on what the Lord has spoken. Why do the teachers not explain this, if they know it? My great doubt has been dispelled by your words. Even sages are bewildered where the senses do not reach.’ He continued: ‘By whatever actions a person acts here, abandoning this body, with another body he enjoys the results of those actions there. This is the debate heard among those who know the Vedas: the actions performed are said to be hidden, not manifest.’ Nārada explained: ‘By whatever actions one acts, by those actions he enjoys the results in the next life, without interruption, through the subtle body and mind. Just as a man leaves behind a sleeping, breathing body, so does he enjoy the results of actions, either with that body or with another. Whatever this person, saying “I am this,” grasps with his mind, he attains the results of those actions, by which rebirth occurs. Just as the mind is inferred from the activities of both types of senses, so too are actions from previous bodies recognized by the movements of the mind. With this body, one has not experienced nor seen nor heard; yet, at some time, that form may be perceived, as it is within oneself. Therefore, O King, the embodied soul attains such a form arising from the body; the meaning not directly experienced cannot be grasped by the mind. The mind alone reveals to a person the previous forms, and likewise those that will be, as well as those that will not be—may you be blessed. Here, sometimes, what has not been seen or heard appears in the mind; thus, one should infer according to place, time, and action. All objects accessible to the mind and senses come and go repeatedly in accordance with sequence; all people share this experience. When the mind is fixed solely in sattva, dwelling near the Lord, then darkness, like the moon’s shadow, is dispelled and this is illuminated. The notion “I” and “mine” is interrupted in the person, as long as the arrangement of intellect, mind, senses, and qualities, which is beginningless, persists. During sleep, fainting, and suffering, due to disruption of breath, the awareness “I am” does not arise—even in the burning of death. In the womb and in childhood, due to immaturity, the elevenfold subtle body is not manifest, just as the moon is hidden in the new phase. Even when the object is absent, the cycle does not cease; as one contemplates objects, misfortune comes in dreams, though they are unreal. Thus, the fivefold subtle body, expanded in three and sixteen ways, when joined with consciousness, is called the living being. By this, the person takes up and abandons bodies, and through this experiences joy, sorrow, fear, pain, and happiness. Just as a leech on grass and water neither departs nor remains, so a person does not abandon identification with the body, even at the time of death. The unseen does not perish like the seen, but exists otherwise, like a dream; what has been, what is, and what will be, all sleep day and night. When one repeatedly contemplates actions performed by the senses, as long as ignorance persists in action, bondage arises for the non-self. Therefore, for the sake of liberation from that, worship Hari with all your being, seeing the universe as his own, from whom arise creation, maintenance, and dissolution.’ Maitreya then said: The foremost devotee, Lord Nārada, having shown the path of the swans and bidding them farewell, departed for Siddhaloka.