Honoring the Lord who stirred their deepest desires, the gopīs approached him with laughter, playful glances, and expressive brows. With hands laid gently upon his lap, they touched his feet in reverence, their voices rising in praise, though tinged with a sweetly feigned anger. They addressed him, saying, “Some love those who love them, others do the opposite, and some love neither. O noble one, tell us truly—which way is right?” The Blessed Lord replied with gentle wisdom: “When two love each other only for their own benefit, they are friends, but there is no true affection or righteousness in such a bond, for it is rooted in self-interest. Yet those who love even those who do not return their love—like compassionate parents—are without fault; in them, affection and virtue shine brilliantly. “Some, however, do not love even those who love them, much less those who do not. Such people are self-satisfied, fulfilled within themselves, ungrateful, and show no respect for their elders. “As for myself, dear friends, I do not love even those who love me, for their devotion. Consider a poor man who, upon gaining wealth and then losing it, becomes so absorbed in thought of it that he knows nothing else. In the same way, when you, gentle ones, have abandoned worldly and scriptural duties for my sake, to serve me, I sometimes hide myself, even though you worship me directly. Do not resent this, beloved ones. “I am unable to repay your flawless devotion, not even if I had the lifespan of the gods. You have broken the hard chains of home and loved me above all. Let your own virtuous deeds be your reward, for nothing else could suffice.” Thus ends 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. The Lord continued, “When devotion, in the form of yoga, is directed toward Bhagavān Vāsudeva, it quickly gives rise to detachment and knowledge that leads to realization of Brahman. When a person’s mind, through the senses, makes no distinction among objects—pleasant or unpleasant—then, at that very moment, he perceives his own self by himself, unattached, seeing all equally, free from acceptance and rejection, established in the supreme state. “Pure knowledge alone is the supreme Brahman, the Supreme Self, the Lord, the Person; Bhagavān is one, though he appears as distinct through the various objects of perception. Only to this extent, through complete yoga, does the yogi attain the desired goal here: total detachment from all things. “The one knowledge, by means of the outward-turned senses, appears—through illusion—in the form of objects, as Brahman without qualities, taking on the characteristics of sound and so forth. Just as the great principle, in the form of ego, becomes threefold and fivefold, self-ruling, and its elevenfold form is the cosmic egg from which the world arises, this is seen by one who, with faith and devotion, practices yoga constantly, whose mind is collected, unattached, and who sees with detachment. “Thus I have spoken this profound knowledge, which is the vision of Brahman, by which one discerns the reality of both prakṛti and puruṣa. Just as an object, though possessing many qualities, is not divided because it is perceived through the separate gates of the senses, so too is Bhagavān, though approached by various scriptural paths. “By action, by sacrifices, by gifts, by austerity, by study, by self-restraint, by mastery over the senses and mind, and by renunciation of actions; by yoga with its various limbs, and indeed by the yoga of devotion; by dharma marked by both activity and renunciation, for one who is engaged in both; through realization of the truth of the self, and by firm detachment—by all these means Bhagavān is attained, both with qualities and without, by one who sees with his own self. “I have described to you the fourfold nature of bhakti-yoga, and also that which, when time has entered the unmanifest, disappears among living beings—the many cycles of transmigration, created by ignorance and action, into which the self enters, yet does not know its own path. “This teaching should never be given to the wicked, to the undisciplined, to the arrogant, to the hostile, nor to those who are only outwardly religious. It should not be taught to the greedy, nor to one whose mind is absorbed in household life, nor to one who is not devoted to me, nor even to those who hate my devotees. “But to one who is faithful, devoted, disciplined, free from envy, friendly to all beings, and eager to serve; to one who is outwardly detached, whose mind is peaceful, free from envy, pure, and for whom I am the dearest among the dear—let this be given. “O mother, any person who even once hears this with faith, or who recites it with a mind fixed on me, surely attains my path.” Śrī Śuka continued: Hearing these most beautiful words of the Lord, the cowherd women let go of the pain born from separation, their desires fulfilled by his presence. There, Govinda began the rāsa play, surrounded by the devoted and joyful gopīs, the finest of women, their arms entwined with one another. The festival of rāsa commenced, adorned by the circle of gopīs, with Kṛṣṇa, the lord of yogis, standing between each pair among them. Entering their midst, he drew the women close by the neck, and those who beheld this vision might imagine the very sky crowded with hundreds of flying palaces. The gods, with their wives, their minds swept away by eagerness, watched this wondrous scene. Drums resounded, showers of flowers fell, and the lords of the Gandharvas, with their wives, sang his spotless glory. Within the rāsa circle arose a tumultuous sound from the bracelets, anklets, and bells of the women, mingling with their beloveds. Among them, the Lord, son of Devakī, shone exceedingly, like a great emerald set among golden gems. With the stamping of feet, the waving of arms, smiling glances, playful movements of brows, swaying earrings brushing their cheeks, and loosened hair braids damp with sweat, the wives of Kṛṣṇa sang joyfully; they shone like lightning within a circle of clouds. Dancing, their voices raised, their throats flushed with passion, delighted by Kṛṣṇa’s touch, the beloveds sang, filling the place with their song. One, together with Mukunda, skillfully blended her singing with his, and as he honored her with affection, praising her, “Well done, well done,” she sang again and again, and he showed her great favor. Another, exhausted from the rāsa, rested her arm, with loosened bracelet and jasmine garland, upon the shoulder of the mace-bearing Lord who stood beside her. Thus, in the divine rāsa, the Lord and his beloveds rejoiced, their hearts united in love and bliss.