As the wise sage Nārada finished imparting his divine teachings, he explained how the senses, when repeatedly engaged in their actions under the spell of ignorance, bind the soul to worldly existence. Recognizing this bondage, Nārada urged that true liberation comes from wholehearted worship of Hari, seeing the entire universe as His own, for it is from Hari that creation, preservation, and dissolution arise. Having shown the path—the way of the swans—to those seeking wisdom, Nārada, the foremost devotee, took leave and journeyed to Siddhaloka. Meanwhile, King Prācīnabarhī, a royal sage, having instructed his sons in the duties of creation’s protection, retired to the hermitage of Kapila to practice austerity. There, with unwavering concentration, he worshipped the lotus feet of Govinda. Free from all worldly attachments, his devotion led him to attain likeness with the Lord. The transcendental wisdom sung by the divine sage, Nārada, liberates anyone who recites or hears it from material bondage. The purifying glory of Mukunda, which sanctifies the world, has flowed from Nārada’s lips, embodying the purity of the Self. Whoever hears it attains the supreme state and, freed from all bondage, no longer wanders in this existence. This wondrous teaching, which resolves all doubts about the duties of women and men, here and hereafter, had now been received. Then, Śuka began to recount a different scene: When the Lord Kṛṣṇa suddenly vanished from their sight, the women of Vraja were plunged into torment, like female elephants separated from their leader. Their minds absorbed in memories of His graceful movements, affectionate smiles, playful glances, enchanting 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 embodied Kṛṣṇa’s very form, imitating His playful ways, each convinced in her heart, “I am He.” Gathering together, they sang loudly of Him and wandered from forest to forest, searching for Him like those possessed. They questioned the trees—though standing apart, the trees contain the Supreme Person within, as if asking the sky. “O Aśvattha, Plakṣa, Nyagrodha trees,” they called, “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,” they asked, “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, O Mallikā, O Jāti, O 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, your hairs standing on end with joy 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 His beloved, O friend, 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, offered her breast to Kṛṣṇa to suckle; another, pretending to be a crying child, was comforted; another, acting as the cart-demon, was struck by a foot. Another, taking the role of a demon, seized one who was playing the part of Kṛṣṇa; yet another, imitating the sound of the cowherd settlement, dragged someone by the foot while playing. Some, acting as Kṛṣṇa and Rāma, played as cowherds; another, playing as 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 own 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 said, “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!” Frightened, the other covered her eyes and feigned fear. In this way, as they questioned the creepers and trees of Vṛndāvana about Kṛṣṇa, they pointed out the footprints of the Supreme Soul in the forest. These footprints, clearly visible, belonged to the great son of Nanda, marked with symbols like the banner, lotus, thunderbolt, goad, and barleycorn. Following those various footprints, the women went ahead; seeing certain footprints closely joined with those of the bride, they spoke in distress: “Whose footprints are these, going with the son of Nanda, with her arm placed on his shoulder, just as an elephant cow is embraced by the elephant?” “Surely, this one has worshipped the Lord, Hari, the Supreme, for Govinda, pleased, has left us all and led her away in secret.” “How blessed are these creepers and plants, dusted by the pollen from Govinda’s lotus feet, which Brahmā, Śiva, and the goddess Lakṣmī place upon their heads for their highest good.” “Her footprints, deeply pressed, disturb us greatly, for, having taken only her away from among the gopīs, Acyuta enjoys her lips in secret; her footprints are not seen further—surely, her tender feet, pained by grass and sprouts, caused her beloved to lift her up.” “See here, gopīs, these footprints are pressed deeper—Kṛṣṇa, burdened by love, is carrying his beloved; here, the great-souled one set his beloved down to pick flowers. Here, for his beloved, the dear one picked flowers; look, at every step, the marks of his feet are clearly seen.” Thus, the gopīs wandered through the forests of Vṛndāvana, searching for their beloved Kṛṣṇa, their hearts overflowing with longing and devotion, tracing His footsteps and the signs of His presence, their minds ever absorbed in Him.