As the sons of Barhiṣmat unleashed their fury upon the forests, reducing the trees to ashes, Lord Brahmā himself appeared before them. With gentle wisdom, he calmed their anger, offering counsel to pacify their hearts. Witnessing the devastation and fearing further destruction, the surviving trees, trembling, gave their daughter Māriṣā to the Pracetas, following the command of Svayambhū. By Brahmā’s decree, the Pracetas accepted Māriṣā. From her, as a result of a grave offense in a previous time, was born Dakṣa, the eminent progenitor of living beings. When the Cākṣuṣa Manvantara came to an end and a new era of creation began, Dakṣa, impelled by destiny, set about creating the desired beings to populate the world. Dakṣa, radiant from birth and surpassing all others in brilliance and skill, became known as “the able one” for his remarkable deeds. The eternal Lord, without beginning or end, appointed Dakṣa and others as the lords of all creatures, entrusting them with the creation and protection of living beings. Many ages later, in the land of Vraja, a song of longing and devotion arose from the hearts of the gopīs. They sang, “Vraja flourishes because of your birth, O beloved! Lakṣmī herself dwells here. Let your devotees be seen everywhere, for those who live by your grace search for you in all directions.” “O noble one,” they continued, “on this autumn night, your glance surpasses the beauty of the lotus. We are your unpaid servants, O giver of boons; is it just that you abandon us, leaving us to perish in longing?” They remembered, “O supreme one, you have saved us again and again—from poisoned waters, from the serpent demon, from storms, lightning, fire, and the wrath of the rain-god. You are our protector from every danger.” “You are not only the delight of the gopīs,” they declared, “but the inner witness in all beings. At Brahmā’s request, you appeared in the Sātvata clan to protect the world. O foremost of the Vṛṣṇis, you have made your feet a refuge for the fearful, freeing all who approach you from the terrors of worldly existence. Beloved, whose lotus hands grant every wish, place your auspicious touch upon our heads.” “O hero, remover of Vraja’s suffering, your smile humbles even your own people. Friend, accept us as your servants and show us your beautiful, lotus-like face. Destroyer of sin for those who bow, companion of those who graze the cows, abode of fortune, your lotus feet were worshipped by the serpent’s hoods—place them on our breasts and relieve the pain in our hearts.” “With sweet words and wisdom, O lotus-eyed one, you enchant us. Nourish us with the nectar of your lips. The stories of your deeds are the very life of the suffering; praised by poets, they remove sin and bring blessings. Those who recite your glories are the most generous of all.” They sang on, “Your laughter, loving glances, playful ways, and meditations are all auspicious. Your secret words stir our hearts and disturb our minds. When you wander from Vraja, herding the cows, your lotus feet tread on stones and sharp grass—our thoughts follow you, longing for your presence.” “At dusk, you return with blue-black hair, your face adorned with forest flowers, dusted by the clouds. Again and again, you reveal yourself, stirring love in our hearts. Your lotus feet, worshipped by Lakṣmī and the ornament of the earth, are worthy of meditation in adversity and bring peace—place them upon our breasts and ease our pain.” “Your lips, made sweeter by the flute, increase love and dispel sorrow, making us forget all else. O hero, grant us the nectar of your lips. When you wander the forest by day, for those deprived of your sight, a moment feels like an age. Even our own eyelids, covering your curly hair and beautiful face, are like obstacles to our longing gaze.” “We have left behind husbands, sons, family, brothers, and relatives—we, the last ones, have come to you, O infallible one. Who, knowing your path and enchanted by your song, could return home at night? Your secret words, your loving glance, the beauty of your broad chest—these repeatedly bewilder our minds.” “O embodiment of auspiciousness for the people of Vraja, your presence alone destroys all suffering and brings blessings to all. Yet, if you withdraw even a little from those who yearn for you, your absence becomes the only remedy for the pain of separation.” “Beloved, we gently place your beautiful lotus feet upon our breasts, though we fear their hardness. Is this why you wander the forest, and do your feet not ache from the sharp stones? Our minds, sustained by your life, never stray from you.” Thus concludes the Song of the Gopīs, the thirty-first chapter in the first half of the Tenth Book of the Śrīmad Bhāgavatam, the great Purāṇa, scripture of the supreme renunciates. In another time, when Rāma departed, his wives embraced his body and entered the fire. The wives of Vasudeva, as well as the daughters-in-law of Hari—including those of Pradyumna—and the wives of Kṛṣṇa, led by Rukmiṇī, also entered the fire, united in spirit with their beloved. Arjuna, overwhelmed by separation from his dear friend Kṛṣṇa, found solace in singing songs and recalling wise sayings about him. He performed the proper funeral rites for his relatives whose lineage had been lost, arranging them as was fitting for those slain. After Hari had departed, the ocean swiftly flooded the city of Dvārakā, sparing only the splendid abode of the Lord. There, Lord Madhusūdana remains eternally, the most auspicious among all, removing all evil through remembrance. Arjuna, taking with him the surviving women, children, and elders, brought them to Indraprastha and installed Vajra as king. When the elders heard of the deaths of their friends, Arjuna’s grandfathers made you, O King, the bearer of the lineage, and then departed on the great path. Whoever, with faith, recounts the glorious deeds and birth of Viṣṇu, Lord of the gods, is freed from all sins. By hearing and reciting the charming descents, heroic deeds, and childhood exploits of Hari, whether here or elsewhere, one attains supreme devotion on the path of the highest renunciates. But when a person, driven by pride, anger, and desire, engages in conflict with others who are also desirous, he brings ruin upon himself. In the body, made of the five elements, the ignorant soul clings to the false notions of “I” and “mine,” leading to a faulty and misguided intellect. If, again, a creature follows the path of the wicked, seeking only to gratify the senses and the belly, he indulges and falls back into darkness as before. Truth, purity, compassion, silence, intelligence, fortune, modesty, fame, forgiveness, tranquility, self-control, and prosperity—all these diminish through association with those who lack such qualities. Therefore, one should avoid the company of the restless, the foolish, the broken in spirit, the unsaintly, the pitiable, or women who are like playthings, for such associations lead only to decline.