Whoever, with faith, recounts the wondrous birth and deeds of Viṣṇu, Lord of the gods, finds freedom from all sins. By hearing and reciting the captivating descents, heroic acts, and enchanting childhood exploits of Hari—whether here or elsewhere—a person attains supreme devotion, walking the path of the highest renunciates. Yet, those consumed by pride, anger, and desire, driven by passions, quarrel with others who are similarly desirous, and in doing so, bring ruin upon themselves. The ignorant soul, bound to a body made of the five elements, clings again and again to the false notions of 'I' and 'mine.' This misguided thinking clouds the intellect. If one follows the path of the wicked, seeking only to satisfy the urges of the belly and genitals, he indulges in darkness as before. Truth, purity, compassion, silence, intelligence, fortune, modesty, fame, forgiveness, tranquility, self-control, and prosperity—all these virtues diminish through association with those who lack them. Therefore, one should avoid associating with restless, foolish, broken-spirited, or unsaintly people, nor with those who are pitiable or women who are mere playthings. Delusion and bondage arise not so much from the company of others, but from association with women—and even more so from associating with those attached to women. The lord of creatures himself, upon seeing his own daughter transformed into a roe deer, was overcome by her beauty and, ashamed, pursued her in the form of a stag. Among all beings, who—except for the sage Nārāyaṇa, whose mind is never disturbed—can resist a woman like me, fashioned by illusion? Behold the power of my illusion, embodied as a woman: she conquers even the victorious of all directions, subduing those who have trodden the earth with merely the arching of her brows. One who seeks to ascend to the highest stage of yoga should never associate with women; those who have attained the true self through serving 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, like a well covered with grass. Deluded, a man thinks of her as his wife, though she is my illusion appearing as a cow; by associating with women, he enters womanhood and becomes bound to wealth, children, and home. He should understand her—who is the embodiment of husband, child, and home—as death itself, sent by fate, just as the song of a hunter is death for the deer. With a body endowed with life, a man wanders from world to world, continually performing actions and experiencing their results without cessation. The living being’s body, composed of elements, senses, and mind, follows him; its dissolution is his death, and its manifestation is his birth. When the means of perceiving an object and the capacity to perceive it are lost, that is called dissolution; the sense of 'I' arises with the perception of objects, and that is called birth. Just as, when the eye or its components lose the ability to see, the seer’s capacity to perceive ceases—so too, when both are unfit, vision ends. Therefore, one should not be afraid, nor feel pity or confusion. Knowing the journey of the soul, the wise, free from attachment, live here accordingly. With 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 various ways, wept loudly, O King, longing to see Kṛṣṇa. Then Hari appeared among them, his lotus face smiling, dressed in yellow garments and adorned with a garland—he who bewilders even the god of love. Seeing their beloved returned, the women’s eyes blossomed with joy; all of them rose at once, as if life itself had returned to their bodies. One joyfully took Hari’s lotus hand in her joined palms; another placed his sandalwood-smeared arm upon her shoulder. One slender woman took the betel leaf he had chewed with her cupped hands; another, burning with longing, placed his lotus foot between her breasts. One of them, her brow knit in agitation, overwhelmed by the tumult of love, seemed to strike with her sidelong glances, her teeth clenched beneath her lips. Another, with unblinking eyes, gazed upon his lotus-like face, and though she drank it in, she was never satisfied—just as the wise are never satiated by his feet. Another, closing her eyes and drawing him into her heart through the opening of her eyes, embraced him with goosebump-covered limbs, immersed in the bliss of a yogi. All of them, delighted by the sight of Keśava, experiencing the highest festival of joy, abandoned the pain of separation, just as people do upon attaining wisdom. Surrounded by those freed from sorrow, the Lord, Acyuta, shone forth even more, O dear one, like a person empowered by his energies. Taking them, the Lord entered the sandy bank of the Yamunā, blooming with jasmine and mandāra flowers, fragrant breezes, and humming bees. The place was auspicious, its darkness dispelled by the mass of autumn moonbeams, with Krishna's restless hand, and sand soft and bright. Their hearts relieved of pain by the joy of seeing him, as the Vedas reach their goal, they prepared a seat for their beloved with their upper garments, marked with the red of their breasts. Seated there, the Lord, the master, 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, and, praising him, spoke with a slight feigned anger. The gopīs said, “One who loves is loved in return by one, another does the opposite; some do not love either. Please tell us, O noble one, which is right?” The Blessed Lord replied, “Those who love each other for their own benefit are friends, but there is no true affection or righteousness there, for it is only for self-interest. Those who love those who do not love them, like compassionate parents, act without fault; here, affection and virtue are excellent. Some do not love even those who love them, let alone those who do not; for they are self-satisfied, fulfilled in themselves, ungrateful, and disrespectful to their elders.” Thus, the Lord taught the gopīs about the nature of love, as he shone among them, the embodiment of joy and wisdom.