The gopīs, overcome with longing and sorrow, cried out to Krishna: "Alas, Lord, beloved, dearest! Where are you, where are you, mighty-armed one? O friend, show your presence to your poor servant!" Their voices echoed with the pain of separation, searching desperately for their beloved. Śuka describes how, as they wandered in search of Krishna’s path, not knowing where he had gone, the gopīs came upon their friend. She was bewildered and distressed, suffering deeply from her separation from Krishna. Listening to her tale—how pride had led to Krishna’s response and her subsequent humiliation—the gopīs were filled with wonder at the mysterious ways of their beloved. Determined, they entered the forest, following the moonlit paths as long as the silver light guided them. But when darkness fell, the women returned, unable to continue. Yet their minds remained absorbed in Krishna; their speech was only of him, their actions imitated his, and their very selves were devoted to him. Singing his virtues, they forgot their own homes, so deep was their love. Once more, they gathered on the banks of the Yamunā, their thoughts fixed on Krishna, longing for his return. Together, they sang of him, their hearts yearning. In their anger and anguish, they unleashed fire and wind from their mouths, as if to render the earth barren, reminiscent of the Samvartaka fire at the end of the age. Witnessing the trees reduced to ashes, Brahmā himself arrived, pacifying the sons of Barhiṣmat with wise counsel. The remaining trees, frightened, offered their daughter to the Pracetas, following Svayambhū’s instruction. By Brahmā’s command, the Pracetas 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, brought forth the desired beings. At birth, Dakṣa outshone all with his own radiance and skill, earning the name "the able one" for his deeds. The timeless one installed Dakṣa for the creation and protection of beings, appointing him and others as lords of all creatures. Returning to the gopīs, their song of longing for Krishna resounded. They declared: "Vraja flourishes more because of your birth; Lakshmi always dwells here. Beloved, 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?" They remembered how Krishna had protected them time and again—from the poison of water, from the serpent-demon, from storms, lightning, fire, from the son of the rain-god, and from dangers everywhere. "O supreme one, you have repeatedly protected us," they sang. "You are not merely the delight of the gopīs; you are the inner witness of all embodied beings. Requested by Brahma 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." With sweet speech, charming words, and wisdom pleasing to the mind, Krishna bewildered them. "O lotus-eyed one, nourish us with the nectar of your lips," they pleaded. "The nectar of your stories is the 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 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 Lakshmi, 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. When you wander the forest by day, for those who do not see you, a moment becomes an age; your curly hair and beautiful face, for those who gaze with dull eyes, are hidden by their own eyelids." "Having abandoned husbands, sons, family, brothers, and relatives, we, the last ones, have come to you, O infallible one. Knowing your path, enchanted by your song, which woman would return home at night? The secret conversations, the rising of love in the heart, your smiling face, loving glances, and the splendor of your broad chest, O abode of fortune, repeatedly cause our minds to long and become bewildered." "O embodiment of auspiciousness for the dwellers of Vraja, your presence alone destroys all suffering and brings universal blessing. Please, withdraw even slightly from those whose hearts are afflicted by longing for you, for your absence is the cure for the pain of separation among your own people." "O beloved, we gently place your beautiful lotus feet upon our breasts, though we are fearful of their hardness. Is it for this reason you wander the forest, and do your feet not feel pain from walking on sharp stones? Our minds, sustained by your life, do not stray from you." Thus concluded the chapter called "The Song of the Gopīs," in the first half of the Tenth Book of the Śrīmad Bhāgavatam, the great Purāṇa, scripture of the supreme renunciates. Elsewhere, as time swept on, the wives of Rāma embraced his body and entered the fire; the wives of Vasudeva and the daughters-in-law of Hari, including those of Pradyumna, followed, as did the wives of Krishna, led by Rukmiṇī, entering the fire, united in spirit with him. Arjuna, overwhelmed by separation from his dear friend Krishna, consoled himself with songs and wise sayings about Krishna. He performed the proper funeral rites for his relatives whose lineage had been lost, arranging them in due order for those who had been slain. Dvārakā, abandoned by Hari, was flooded by the ocean in a moment, O King, save for the splendid abode of the Lord. There, Lord Madhusūdana remains eternally, removing all evil by remembrance, the most auspicious among all auspicious things. Taking the surviving women, children, and elders, Dhanañjaya brought them to Indraprastha and installed Vajra as king. Hearing of the death of their friends, Arjuna’s grandfathers made you the bearer of the lineage, and all departed on the great path.