With arms outstretched in affection, Krishna delighted the beautiful women of Vraja. He embraced them, engaged in playful struggles, loosened their girdles, and touched them gently with his nails. Their laughter rang out, their glances sparkled, and their smiles shone—all these gestures stirred the god of love within their hearts, filling them with joy. Having received such favor from the great-souled Lord Krishna, the women of Vraja became proud. They considered themselves the most fortunate of all beings on earth, blessed beyond measure. Yet, perceiving this pride arising from their good fortune, Keśava, ever compassionate, vanished from their midst at once. In doing so, he sought to pacify their hearts and bestow his true favor. Thus concludes the twenty-ninth chapter of the first half of the Tenth Canto in the Śrīmad Bhāgavatam Mahāpurāṇa, scripture for the supreme paramahaṃsas. I offer my reverent obeisance to that Supreme Person, Krishna, the foremost among all beings. Like a bee that draws out the essence from flowers, he extracts the nectar of the Vedas and imparts the sweet wisdom of knowledge and realization to his devotees, removing their fear of worldly existence. Hari, the Lord himself, is the soul of all embodied beings and the master of nature; his lotus feet are the refuge, the source of safety for all people in this world. He alone is the dearest Self, from whom not even the slightest fear can arise. One who knows this truth is truly wise, and such a wise one is the teacher—Hari himself. Then Nārada spoke: "O best of men, your question has now been answered. But listen carefully as I reveal this well-determined and secret matter. Imagine a small, wandering creature, seeking shelter among those of gentle nature. Drawn by the sweet songs of the six-legged ones, greedy for their sound, he moves forward, heedless of the wolves ahead, who are never satisfied. Behind him, a deer—wounded by the hunter’s arrow—pursues him. The meaning is this: Among gentle women, the shelter of the hermitage is like a faint fragrance—very slight. Seeking fleeting pleasure born of desire, one becomes absorbed in union, with the mind fixed there. The alluring speech of women, like the songs of the six-legged ones, 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, observe this self, whose heart is pierced. Therefore, learn from the behavior of the deer and restrain your own mind within your heart, as a charioteer holds the reins. Abandon the company of women and the songs of the herd, and gradually take refuge in the shelter of the Swan—find satisfaction and withdraw, step by step. The king then said: 'O brāhmaṇa, I have heard and reflected on what the Lord has taught. 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 performs in this life, upon abandoning the body, he enjoys the results of those actions in another body. This is often debated among those who know the Vedas: the actions performed are said to be hidden, not manifest.' Nārada replied: 'By whatever actions one acts, by those very actions he enjoys their 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 a 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 may not have experienced nor seen nor heard certain things; 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. 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 the truth is illuminated. The notion of "I" and "mine" persists as long as the arrangement of intellect, mind, senses, and qualities—which is beginningless—remains. 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 its 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, worship Hari with all your being, seeing the universe as his own, from whom arise creation, maintenance, and dissolution.' Maitreya then spoke: The foremost devotee, the Lord Nārada, having shown the path of the swans and bidding farewell, journeyed to Siddhaloka. King Prācīnabarhī, the royal sage, after instructing his sons in the protection of creation, retired to the hermitage of Kapila for austerity. There, with a mind fixed in one-pointed concentration, the steadfast king worshipped the lotus feet of Govinda; freed from all attachment, he attained likeness with the Lord through devotion. O sinless one, this teaching on the transcendental Self, sung by the divine sage, grants liberation from material bondage to whoever recites or hears it. The purifying glory of Mukunda, which sanctifies the world, has flowed from the lips of the foremost divine sage, embodying the purity of the Self. Whoever hears it recited attains the supreme state and, freed from all bonds, no longer wanders in this existence.