As the night deepened in the enchanting forests of Vṛndāvana, the gopīs wandered, their hearts consumed by longing for Kṛṣṇa. Their love for him was so intense that, as they moved through the moonlit woods, they began to imitate his every gesture and deed. One gopī, placing her arm on the shoulder of another as she walked, declared, “I am Kṛṣṇa—see my graceful gait,” her mind completely absorbed in thoughts of him. Another, full of compassion, comforted her companion, saying, “Do not fear the wind or the rain; I have arranged for your protection,” and tried to shield her with her garment, using only one hand. Their playfulness grew. One gopī climbed upon another, stepping on her head, and proclaimed, “Wicked one, go away! I am born as the punisher of the wicked!” Elsewhere, another called out, “O cowherds, see this terrible forest fire! Close your eyes, and I will quickly ensure your safety.” The memories of Kṛṣṇa’s pastimes filled their minds and speech. A slender gopī, 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 and trembled. As they wandered, the gopīs questioned the creepers and trees of Vṛndāvana about Kṛṣṇa’s whereabouts, their voices echoing through the forest. They pointed out footprints upon the earth—those of the Supreme Soul himself. These footprints, clearly visible, belonged to the great son of Nanda, marked with divine symbols: a banner, lotus, thunderbolt, goad, and barleycorn. Following these footprints, the gopīs pressed onward. Soon, they noticed certain footprints closely joined with those of one among them, the bride, and their hearts were troubled. “Whose footprints are these, walking with the son of Nanda, her arm placed on his shoulder, just as an elephant cow is embraced by the elephant?” they wondered aloud. “Surely, this one has worshipped the Lord, Hari, the Supreme, for Govinda, pleased, has left us all and led her away in secret.” They gazed at the forest’s creepers and plants, dusted by the pollen from Govinda’s lotus feet—feet worshipped by Brahmā, Śiva, and Lakṣmī. The gopīs lamented, “How blessed are these creepers and plants!” But the footprints of the bride pressed deeply into the earth, disturbing them greatly. “Having taken only her away from among us, Acyuta enjoys her lips in secret,” they said. The tracks soon vanished, and they surmised her tender feet, pained by grass and sprouts, must have caused her beloved to lift her up. “See here, gopīs,” they exclaimed, “these footprints are pressed deeper—Kṛṣṇa, burdened by love, is carrying his beloved.” Nearby, the great-souled one set her 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.” They found a place where a lover had arranged his beloved’s hair, surely adorning her tresses as she sat. Though self-satisfied and undivided in himself, Kṛṣṇa enjoyed with her, revealing the wretchedness of lovers and the fickleness of women. As they uncovered these signs, the gopīs wandered, bewildered. The gopī whom Kṛṣṇa had led away, leaving the others behind, now considered herself the most fortunate of all. “Having abandoned the gopīs who desire him, my beloved now worships me,” she thought. When they reached a secluded spot in the forest, she, proud, said to Keshava, “I can walk no further; take me wherever your heart desires.” Thus addressed, Kṛṣṇa gently replied, “Climb onto my shoulder.” Yet, in that moment, Kṛṣṇa vanished, leaving the bride alone and lamenting. In anguish, she cried, “Alas, Lord, beloved, dearest! Where are you, where are you, mighty-armed one? O friend, show your presence to your poor servant!” Śuka explained that, as the gopīs searched for the path of the Lord, not knowing where he had gone, they found their friend, bewildered and distressed by separation from her beloved. Hearing her story—her pride, Mādhava’s response, and her humiliation—they were filled with great wonder. Together, they entered the forest, searching as long as the moonlight lasted. When darkness fell, they turned back. Their minds absorbed in him, their speech about him, their actions imitating him, their very selves devoted to him, singing only his virtues, they forgot their own homes. Returning to the bank of the Yamunā, their thoughts fixed on Kṛṣṇa, they gathered, longing for his arrival, and sang of him. In their anger and sorrow, they released fire and wind from their mouths, as if to make the earth barren, like the Samvartaka fire at the end of the age. Seeing the trees reduced to ashes, Brahmā arrived and pacified the sons of Barhiṣmat with wise counsel. The frightened trees that remained offered their daughter to the Pracetas, as instructed by Svayambhū. By Brahmā’s command, they accepted Māriṣā, from whom, due to a great offense, was born the progenitor of beings. When the interval of the Cākṣuṣa Manvantara arrived, at the dawn of creation, Dakṣa, impelled by destiny, created the desired beings. Dakṣa, who at birth outshone all the brilliant with his own radiance and skill, was called Dakṣa, the able one, for his deeds. He, who is without beginning, installed Dakṣa for the creation and protection of beings, appointing him and others as lords of all creatures. Meanwhile, the gopīs, their hearts aching, sang to Kṛṣṇa: “O beloved, Vraja flourishes because of your birth; Lakṣmī always dwells here. Let your devotees be seen in all directions; those whose lives are sustained by you search for you. O noble one, in the autumn night, your gaze steals the beauty of the lotus’s heart. Lord of love, we are your unpaid servants; O giver of boons, is it right for you to kill us here? From the poison of water, from the demon in serpent form, from storms, lightning, fire, from the son of the rain-god, and from dangers everywhere, O supreme one, you have repeatedly protected us. You are not merely the delight of the gopīs; you are the inner witness of all embodied beings. Requested by Brahmā for the protection of the world, friend, you appeared in the clan of the Sātvatas. O foremost of the Vṛṣṇis, you have made your feet a shelter for those who approach, freeing them from the fear of worldly existence. Beloved, whose lotus hands grant desires, place your auspicious grasp upon our heads. O hero, remover of Vraja’s suffering, whose smile destroys the pride of your own people, friend, accept us as your servants; show us your beautiful lotus-like face. Destroyer of sin for those who bow, follower of those who graze grass, abode of fortune, your lotus feet were offered by the serpent’s hoods; place them on our breasts and relieve the pain in our hearts.” Thus, in longing and devotion, the gopīs poured out their hearts, yearning for Kṛṣṇa’s presence, their love shining through the night in the sacred land of Vṛndāvana.