Following the various footprints left in the soft earth, the gopīs hurried through the forest, their hearts full of longing and anxiety. As they traced the delicate impressions, they noticed a particular set of footprints running closely beside those of the bride among them. Overcome with distress, they spoke to one another: “Whose footprints are these, walking with the son of Nanda? See how her arm rests upon his shoulder, just as an elephant cow is embraced by her mate.” They marveled, saying, “Surely this one among us has worshipped the Lord, Hari, with such devotion that Govinda, pleased with her, has left all of us behind and led her away in secret.” Their eyes fell upon the forest creepers and plants, dusted with the pollen from Govinda’s lotus feet—feet so sacred that even Brahmā, Śiva, and Lakṣmī place their dust upon their heads for their highest good. The gopīs noticed that the footprints of the beloved were pressed more deeply here and there, and they said, “This disturbs us greatly. Having taken only her away, Acyuta now enjoys her lips in secret. But look—her footprints disappear beyond this point. Surely, her tender feet, pained by the grass and sprouts, caused her beloved to lift her up.” They continued, “See here, friends! These footprints are pressed even deeper. Krishna, overwhelmed by love, must have lifted his beloved and carried her. And here, the great-souled one set her down to pick flowers for her.” At every step, they could see the clear marks of his feet. “Here,” they said, “a lover arranged the hair of his beloved. Surely, while she was seated here, he adorned her tresses himself.” Though Krishna is self-satisfied and complete in himself, he enjoyed these pastimes with her, revealing the wretchedness of lovers and the fickleness of women. As the gopīs spoke thus, bewildered and searching, they wandered through the forest. Meanwhile, the gopī whom Krishna had led away, leaving all others behind, began to think herself the most fortunate of all women: “He has abandoned all the others who desire him and now worships me alone.” Soon, having reached a spot deep in the forest, she, overcome by pride, said to Keshava, “I can walk no further; take me wherever your heart desires.” Krishna replied, “Climb onto my shoulder.” But in that very moment, he vanished, leaving her alone and sorrowful. Bereft, she cried out, “Alas, Lord! Beloved! Dearest! Where are you? Where are you, mighty-armed one? O friend, show yourself to your poor servant!” As the gopīs searched for Krishna, not knowing where he had gone, they found their friend wandering, confused and stricken with grief at her separation from him. Hearing from her all that had happened—her pride, Krishna’s response, and her humiliation at being abandoned—they were filled with wonder. Together, the gopīs entered the forest, searching as long as the moonlight lasted. But when darkness fell, they turned back. Their hearts and minds were absorbed in Krishna; their speech was only of him, their actions imitated his, and their very souls were devoted to him. Singing only of his virtues, they forgot their own homes and families. Returning to the banks of the Yamunā, their thoughts fixed on Krishna, they gathered together, longing for his arrival, and began to sing of him. So great was their longing and anguish that, O King, out of anger and sorrow, they seemed to release fire and wind from their mouths, as if to scorch the very earth like the Samvartaka fire at the end of the age. Witnessing the trees being reduced to ashes by this fury, Brahmā himself arrived and pacified the sons of Barhiṣmat with wise counsel. The remaining trees, frightened, gave their daughter to the Pracetas, as Svayambhū had instructed. By Brahmā’s command, the Pracetas accepted Māriṣā, and from her, due to a great offense, the progenitor of beings was born. When the interval of the Cākṣuṣa Manvantara arrived, at the beginning of creation, as time moved on, Dakṣa, impelled by destiny, created the desired beings. He, who at birth outshone all with his radiance and skill, was called Dakṣa, the able one, because of his deeds. He, who is without beginning, was installed for the creation and protection of beings, and was appointed, along with others, as a lord of all creatures. Meanwhile, the gopīs, gathered together, began to sing to Krishna with longing and devotion: “O Krishna, your birth has made Vraja flourish; Lakṣmī always dwells here. Beloved, let your devotees be seen in all directions, for those whose lives depend on you search for you everywhere. O noble one, in the autumn nights, your glance steals the beauty from the very heart of the lotus. Lord of love, though we are your unpaid servants, O giver of boons, is it right for you to kill us with separation? From the poison of water, from the demon in serpent form, from storms, lightning, fire, from the son of the rain-god, and from every danger, O supreme one, you have again and again protected us. You are not merely the delight of the gopīs; you are the inner witness within all embodied beings. At Brahmā’s request, you appeared in the clan of the Sātvatas for the protection of the world. O foremost of the Vṛṣṇis, you have made your feet a shelter for those who seek you, freeing them from the fear of worldly existence. Beloved, whose lotus hands grant all desires, place your auspicious hand 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 the cows, 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. With sweet speech, charming words, and wisdom that delights the mind, O lotus-eyed one, you bewilder us; O hero, nourish us with the nectar of your lips. The nectar of your stories is life for the suffering; praised by poets, it removes sin. Hearing them brings auspiciousness and wealth; those who spread them on earth are truly generous. Your laughter, beloved, your loving glances, your play, and your meditation are all auspicious. The secret conversations that touch the heart, O enchanter, disturb our minds. When you wander from Vraja, herding the cows, O lord, your lotus-like feet tread on stones, grass, and sprouts; our minds, afflicted by longing, follow you, beloved. At the end of the day, with blue hair, you appear, bearing a forest-flower face, covered in dust from the clouds, repeatedly showing yourself; O hero, you stir love in our hearts. Your lotus feet, which grant desires to those who bow, are worshipped by Lakṣmī, ornament of the earth, worthy of meditation in adversity, and bring peace; beloved, place them upon our breasts and relieve our pain. Your lips, kissed by the melodious flute, increase love and destroy sorrow, making people forget all other passions; O hero, grant us the nectar of your lips.” Thus, their hearts overflowing with longing, love, and devotion, the gopīs sang and yearned for Krishna, their beloved.