In that sacred place, Lord Madhusūdana, the remover of all evil, abides eternally, bestowing auspiciousness upon all who remember him. After the devastation of war, Dhanañjaya—Arjuna—gathered the surviving women, children, and elders and led them to Indraprastha. There, he installed Vajra as king, ensuring the continuation of the royal lineage. When Arjuna’s grandfathers heard of the passing of their friends, O King, they entrusted the future of their line to you and then departed from this world, setting forth on the great journey beyond. It is said that anyone who, with faith, recounts the divine birth and deeds of Viṣṇu, Lord of the gods, is freed from all sins. By hearing and narrating the charming descents, heroic acts, and wondrous childhood exploits of Hari, whether here or elsewhere, a person attains supreme devotion, walking the path of the highest renunciates. Yet, those consumed by bodily pride, anger, and desire, driven by passion, inevitably enter into conflict with others who are similarly driven, bringing ruin upon themselves. The ignorant soul, bound to a body made of the five elements, clings repeatedly to the false ideas of ‘I’ and ‘mine,’ and such delusion clouds his understanding. If, once more, a person follows the path of the wicked, seeking only to satisfy the belly and the senses, he falls back into darkness as before. Truth, purity, compassion, silence, intelligence, fortune, modesty, fame, forgiveness, tranquility, self-control, and prosperity—all these virtues diminish when one associates with those who lack them. Therefore, one should avoid the company of the restless, the foolish, the broken in spirit, the unsaintly, the pitiable, or women who are mere playthings. Delusion and bondage arise not so much from association with others in general, but especially from association with women, and even more so from the company of those attached to women. Even the lord of creatures, upon seeing his own daughter transformed into a roe deer, was overcome by her beauty. Ashamed, he pursued her in the form of a stag. Among all beings created and recreated, who but the sage Nārāyaṇa, whose mind is never disturbed, could resist a woman like me, fashioned by illusion? Behold the power of my illusion, embodied as a woman: she conquers even those who have triumphed in all directions—her mere arched brow subdues the mighty who have trodden the earth. Those who seek to ascend to the highest stage of yoga should never associate with women. Those who have realized the true self through service to me declare that such association is the gateway to hell. The illusion, in the form of a woman, created by the gods, approaches slowly; one should recognize her as death for the self, as dangerous as a well hidden by grass. Deluded, a man may think of her as his wife, though she is but my illusion, perhaps appearing as a cow. By associating with women, he is reborn as a woman and becomes bound to wealth, children, and home. He should understand that she—embodiment of husband, child, and home—is death itself, sent by fate, just as the song of a hunter spells death for the deer. With a body endowed with life, the soul wanders from world to world, performing actions and reaping their results, without end. The living being’s body, made of elements, senses, and mind, follows him; its dissolution is called death, and its manifestation, birth. When the means of perception and the capacity to perceive are lost, that is dissolution; the sense of ‘I’ arises with perception, and that is birth. Just as vision ceases when the eye or its components lose their function, so too, when both are unfit, sight ends. Therefore, one should not be afraid, nor feel pity or confusion. Understanding the journey of the soul, the wise, free from attachment, should live accordingly. With an intellect endowed with true vision, joined with yoga and detachment, one should live in this world, fashioned by illusion, unconcerned with the body. Śuka then spoke: Thus, the gopīs, singing and lamenting in many ways, wept loudly, longing with all their hearts to see Kṛṣṇa. Suddenly, Hari appeared among them, his lotus face radiant with a smile, clad in yellow garments and adorned with a garland—he who bewilders even the god of love. At the sight of their beloved, the eyes of the women blossomed with joy; all of them rose at once, as if life itself had returned to their bodies. One gopī joyfully took Hari’s lotus hand in her joined palms; another placed his sandalwood-scented arm upon her shoulder. One slender maiden received the betel leaf he had chewed into her cupped hands; another, burning with longing, pressed his lotus foot to her heart. One, her brow knit in agitation and overwhelmed by the tumult of love, seemed to strike him with her sidelong glance, her teeth clenched beneath her lips. Another gazed unblinking upon his lotus-like face, never sated, just as the wise are never satisfied by his feet. Yet another, closing her eyes, drew him into her heart through her gaze, embracing him within with limbs covered in goosebumps, immersed in the bliss of a yogi. All of them, delighted by the sight of Keśava, experienced a festival of joy, casting aside the pain of separation, just as people do upon attaining wisdom. Surrounded by those freed from sorrow, the Lord, Acyuta, shone forth even more brightly, like a person empowered by his energies. Taking them with him, the Lord entered the sandy bank of the Yamunā, blooming with jasmine and mandāra flowers, fragrant breezes, and the hum of bees. The place was auspicious, its darkness dispelled by the beams of the autumn moon, the sand soft and bright, Krishna’s restless hand moving gently. Their hearts, relieved of pain by the joy of seeing him, as the Vedas reach their goal, the gopīs prepared a seat for their beloved with their upper garments, marked with the red of their breasts. There, seated, the Lord, master of all, assumed a seat in the hearts of the yogis and shone among the assembly of gopīs, worshipped, bearing a form that is the single abode of the fortune of the three worlds. Honoring him, the kindler of desire, with laughter, playful glances, and expressive brows, they touched his feet with their hands placed on his lap. Praising him, they spoke with a gentle, feigned anger, saying: “One who loves is loved in return by one; another does the opposite; some do not love at all. Please tell us, O noble one, which is right?