All things that the mind and senses perceive arise and pass away in their due course, coming and going in endless succession—a truth experienced by all living beings. Yet, when the mind is established in purity, resting close to the Lord, the darkness of ignorance is dispelled, just as the shadow of the earth is dispelled by the rising moon. Still, as long as the beginningless arrangement of intellect, mind, senses, and their qualities persists, the sense of 'I' and 'mine' continues to interrupt the soul’s true awareness. During sleep, fainting, suffering, or when the breath is disturbed—even at the moment of death—the awareness of 'I am' does not arise. In the womb and in childhood, because of immaturity, the elevenfold subtle body remains unmanifest, just as the new moon is hidden from sight. Even when external objects are absent, the cycle of thoughts does not cease; the mind, pondering over objects, brings forth dreams—phantoms of misfortune that are not real. In this way, the subtle body, composed of five elements and expanded through threefold and sixteenfold divisions, when joined with consciousness, is known as the living being. Through this, the soul takes up and abandons bodies, experiencing joy and sorrow, fear, pain, and happiness. Just as a leech, moving from one blade of grass to another, neither fully leaves nor wholly remains, so too the soul does not entirely relinquish identification with the body, even at death. The unseen self does not perish like the visible body, but exists in another way—like a dream; past, present, and future all rest in slumber, day and night. As long as ignorance persists, and one continues to dwell on actions performed by the senses, bondage arises for the non-self. Therefore, to be free from this, one should worship Lord Hari with all one’s being, seeing the universe as His, from whom creation, preservation, and dissolution arise. Having thus shown the path of the swans, the foremost devotee, the sage Nārada, took his leave and departed for Siddhaloka. King Prācīnabarhī, the royal sage, after instructing his sons in the duties of creation, withdrew to the hermitage of Kapila to undertake austerity. There, with unwavering mind, he worshipped the lotus feet of Govinda; freed from all attachments, he attained likeness with the Lord through devotion. O sinless one, this teaching on the transcendental Self was sung by the divine sage. Whoever recites or hears it is liberated from material bondage. The purifying glory of Mukunda, which sanctifies the world and embodies the purity of the Self, has flowed from the mouth of the foremost sage; whoever hears it attains the supreme state, freed from all bonds, and no longer wanders in this existence. This wondrous, transcendental teaching, which I have now received, dispels all doubts regarding the duties of women and men, both in this life and beyond. Śuka then continued: When the Lord suddenly vanished from their sight, the women of Vraja were overwhelmed with anguish, like female elephants separated from their leader. Their minds absorbed in His every movement, His affection, smiles, playful glances, charming speech, and delightful pastimes, the gopīs, captivated by the Lord of Lakṣmī, began to imitate His actions, each identifying herself with Him. In walking, smiling, glancing, speaking, and other acts, the beloveds of the Beloved, embodying His very form, imitated Kṛṣṇa’s playful ways, each convinced in her heart, “I am He.” Gathered together, they sang of Him loudly and wandered from forest to forest like those possessed, searching for Him. They questioned the trees—who, though rooted in place, contain the Supreme Person within—as if asking the sky itself. “O Aśvattha, Plakṣa, Nyagrodha trees,” they called, “have you seen the son of Nanda pass this way, He who steals our minds with His loving glances and radiant smiles? O Kurabaka, Aśoka, Nāga, Punnāga, Campaka—has Rāma’s younger brother, whose smile humbles the proud, passed this way among the haughty maidens? O blessed Tulasī, dear to Govinda’s feet, surrounded by swarms of bees, have you seen the beloved Acyuta pass by, adorned with you? O Mālatī, Mallikā, Jāti, Yūthikā—have you seen Mādhava pass by, delighting you with His touch?” “O Cūta, Priyāla, Panasa, Āsana, Kovida, Jambu, Arka, Bilva, Bakula, Āmra, Kadamba, Nīpa, and all other trees on the banks of Yamunā, please reveal to us, whose hearts are empty, the path Kṛṣṇa has taken.” “O Earth, what austerity have you performed, that you shine with joy, your hairs standing on end from the festival of Keśava’s feet touching you? Is it from the touch of His feet, His mighty deeds, or the embrace of His Boar form? Or has Acyuta come here to meet His beloved, delighting her senses with His body and gaze? The fragrance of the garland on the chief of the clan, stained with the kuṅkuma from His beloved’s breasts, is wafting here.” “With His lotus hand placed on the shoulder of His beloved, Rāma’s younger brother, followed by intoxicated bees and Tulasī, is wandering here; do the trees bow to Him as He passes, glancing at them with affection? Ask these creepers, who embrace the trees with their arms; surely, touched by His hand, they display horripilation in delight.” Thus, speaking in their madness, the gopīs, distressed in their search for Kṛṣṇa, imitated His playful acts, each absorbed in Him. One, imitating Pūtanā, approached and offered her breast for Kṛṣṇa to suckle; another, pretending to be a crying child, was comforted; another, acting as the cart-demon, was struck by a foot. One, taking the role of a demon, seized one who was playing the part of Kṛṣṇa; yet another, mimicking the sounds of the cowherd settlement, dragged someone by the foot in play. Some, acting as Kṛṣṇa and Rāma, played as cowherds; another, playing the calf-demon, was defeated; and one among them took the role of the crane-demon. Calling out to one who was far away, as Kṛṣṇa would, another followed after, playing the flute and sporting about, while others praised her, saying, “Well done!” One, placing her arm on the shoulder of another as she walked, said, “I am Kṛṣṇa—see my graceful gait,” her mind absorbed in Him. “Do not fear the wind or the rain; I have arranged for your protection,” said one, trying to cover another with her garment, using only one hand. One climbed upon another, stepping on her head, and declared, “Wicked one, go away! I am born as the punisher of the wicked!” There, another said, “O cowherds, see this terrible forest fire! Close your eyes, and I will quickly ensure your safety.” Thus, in their longing and love, the gopīs lost themselves in Kṛṣṇa’s play, each act a reflection of their devotion and the Lord’s sweet pastimes.