By the subtle workings of the mind and senses, a person takes up new bodies and abandons old ones, passing through cycles of joy, sorrow, fear, pain, and happiness. Yet, just as a leech clings to grass and water, never fully departing nor remaining, so too does a person never truly let go of bodily identification, even at the moment of death. The unseen self does not perish as the visible body does; rather, it exists in another way, much like the reality of dreams—past, present, and future all seem to sleep, day and night. When one repeatedly contemplates the actions of the senses, as long as ignorance persists in one’s deeds, bondage arises for the self that is not truly bound. Therefore, to be liberated from this cycle, one should worship Hari with all one’s heart, seeing the entire universe as His own—He from whom creation, maintenance, and dissolution arise. Thus, the great devotee, Lord Nārada, having revealed this path of wisdom—the way of the swans—to the seekers, took his leave and journeyed to Siddhaloka. Meanwhile, King Prācīnabarhī, wise and devoted, after instructing his sons in the duties of creation’s protection, retired to the hermitage of Kapila to perform austerities. There, with unwavering focus, he worshipped at the lotus feet of Govinda. Free from all attachments, he attained a likeness to the Lord through his deep devotion. O sinless one, this teaching about the transcendental Self was sung by the divine sage. Whoever recites it or hears it is released from material bondage. The purifying glory of Mukunda, flowing from the lips of the foremost sage and radiant with the Self’s purity, sanctifies the world; whoever hears it being recited attains the supreme state and, freed from all bonds, no longer wanders in this world. This wondrous, transcendental teaching, which I have now received, dispels all doubts regarding the duties of women and men, both in this life and the next. Śuka then spoke: When the Lord suddenly vanished from their midst, the women of Vraja, unable to see Him, were overwhelmed with anguish, just like female elephants separated from their leader. Absorbed in thoughts of His graceful movements, loving affection, radiant smiles, playful glances, charming speech, and delightful pastimes, their minds were utterly captivated by the Lord of Lakṣmī. They began to imitate His actions, each identifying herself with Him. In their walking, smiling, glancing, speaking, and every playful act, the beloveds of the Beloved, embodying His very form, imitated Kṛṣṇa’s ways, each one convinced in her heart, “I am He.” Together they wandered, singing His glories loudly, moving from forest to forest like those possessed, searching for Him. They questioned the trees—who, though rooted and silent, house the Supreme Person within—as if asking the sky itself. They called out: “O Aśvattha, Plakṣa, Nyagrodha trees, have you seen the son of Nanda pass this way, stealing our minds with His loving glances and radiant smiles? O Kurabaka, Aśoka, Nāga, Punnāga, Campaka trees, has Rāma’s younger brother, whose smile humbles the proud, passed this way among the proud maidens? O blessed Tulasī, dear to Govinda’s feet and surrounded by bees, have you seen our beloved Acyuta pass by, adorned with you? O Mālatī, Mallikā, Jāti, Yūthikā, have you seen Mādhava, who delights you with His touch? O Cūta, Priyāla, Panasa, Āsana, Kovida, Jambu, Arka, Bilva, Bakula, Āmra, Kadamba, Nīpa, and all other trees by the Yamunā’s banks, please reveal to us, whose hearts are empty, the path Kṛṣṇa has taken.” They wondered, “O Earth, what great austerity have you performed, that you shine with your hairs standing on end, thrilled by the touch of Keśava’s feet? Is it His touch, His mighty deeds, or the embrace of His Boar form that fills you with such joy? Or has Acyuta come here to meet His beloved, delighting her senses with His body and gaze? The fragrance of His garland, stained with kuṅkuma from His beloved’s breasts, fills the air.” They imagined, “With His lotus hand upon her shoulder, Rāma’s younger brother, followed by bees and Tulasī, must be wandering here; do the trees bow to Him as He glances at them with affection? Ask these creepers, who embrace the trees as if in delight from His touch, displaying horripilation.” Speaking thus in their longing, the gopīs, distressed in their search for Kṛṣṇa, imitated His playful acts, each absorbed in thoughts of Him. One, imitating Pūtanā, approached and offered her breast for Kṛṣṇa to suckle; another, pretending to be a crying child, was comforted; another, playing the part of the cart-demon, was struck by a foot. Another, acting as a demon, seized one playing Kṛṣṇa; yet another, imitating the sounds of the cowherd settlement, dragged someone by the foot in their play. Some played as Kṛṣṇa and Rāma, acting as cowherds; another, as the calf-demon, was defeated, while one among them played the crane-demon. Calling out to one who was distant, as Kṛṣṇa would, another followed after, playing the flute and sporting about, while others praised her, saying, “Well done!” One, placing her arm on another’s shoulder as she walked, declared, “I am Kṛṣṇa—see my graceful gait,” her mind fully absorbed in Him. “Do not fear the wind or the rain; I have arranged for your protection,” said another, covering her companion with her garment using only one hand. One climbed upon another, stepping on her head, and proclaimed, “Wicked one, go away! I am born as the punisher of the wicked!” Another said, “O cowherds, see this terrible forest fire! Close your eyes, and I will quickly ensure your safety.” A slender one, tying another with a garland to a mortar, said, “I am binding the butter thief who broke the pots and stole the clarified butter!” The other, feigning fear, covered her eyes. In this way, as they questioned the creepers and trees of Vṛndāvana about Kṛṣṇa, they noticed the footprints of the Supreme Soul in the forest. “These footprints, so distinct, belong to the great son of Nanda,” they said, “marked with the banner, lotus, thunderbolt, goad, and barleycorn.” Following these various footprints, the women pressed onward. When they saw certain footprints closely joined with those of a bride, their hearts ached, and they spoke in distress, “Whose footprints are these, walking with the son of Nanda, her arm upon his shoulder, just as an elephant cow is embraced by the elephant?” They sighed, “Surely, this one has worshipped Hari, the Supreme Lord, with great devotion, for Govinda, pleased, has left us all and led her away in secret.” Looking to the plants and creepers, they exclaimed, “How blessed are these, dusted by the pollen from Govinda’s lotus feet—feet that Brahmā, Śiva, and Lakṣmī themselves place upon their heads for their highest good!