In the sacred discourse, a profound truth is revealed: delusion and bondage arise not so much from association with others, but especially from association with women—and even more so from association with those who are deeply attached to women. This power of illusion is illustrated by the lord of creatures himself, who, upon seeing his own daughter transformed into a beautiful roe deer, was overwhelmed by her beauty. Ashamed, he pursued her in the form of a stag, showing how even the greatest can be ensnared. Among all the countless beings who have been created and recreated, who, apart from the sage Nārāyaṇa—whose mind remains forever undisturbed—can resist a woman crafted by illusion? The might of this illusion, embodied as a woman, is so great that she conquers even those who have triumphed in all directions, subduing the most powerful simply by the arching of her brows. Those who seek to reach the highest stage of yoga are advised never to associate with women, for those who have realized the true self through devotion 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, much like a well covered with grass, concealing its peril. Deluded, a man regards her as his wife, though she is but illusion, appearing as a cow. Through association with women, he enters womanhood and becomes bound to wealth, children, and home. He should understand her—who embodies husband, child, and home—as death itself, sent by fate, just as the song of a hunter spells doom for the deer. With a body endowed with life, a man wanders from world to world, continually performing actions and experiencing their results without end. The living being’s body—made 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 dissolution; the sense of 'I' arises with the perception of objects, and that is 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, should live accordingly. With intellect endowed with true vision, joined with yoga and detachment, one should live in this world, shaped by illusion, unconcerned with the body. Meanwhile, Śuka narrates: The gopīs, singing and lamenting in many ways, wept loudly, 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 on 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 her 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, 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 own upper garments, marked with the red of their breasts. There, seated, 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 asked: “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. “But I, O friends, do not love even those who love me, for their devotion; just as a poor man, upon gaining wealth and then losing it, absorbed in its thought, knows nothing else. Thus, you, weak ones, have abandoned worldly and scriptural duties for my sake, to serve me; though you worship me directly, I hide myself, so you should not resent this, O beloveds. I am unable to repay your flawless devotion, even with the lifespan of the gods; those who have loved me, breaking the hard chains of home, let their virtuous deeds be your reward.” Thus concludes the thirty-second chapter, named 'The Consolation of the Gopīs,' in the first half of the tenth book of the Śrīmad Bhāgavatam, the great Purāṇa, the scripture of the supreme swan. When devotion in the form of yoga is directed toward Bhagavan Vasudeva, it quickly gives rise to detachment and knowledge that leads to realization of Brahman. When a person's mind, through the functions of the senses, does not accept any distinction among objects—whether pleasant or unpleasant—then, at that very moment, he perceives himself by himself as unattached, seeing all equally, free from acceptance and rejection, and established in the supreme state.