Krishna, seeing the gopīs before him—those gentle souls who had forsaken all worldly and scriptural duties for his sake—spoke to them with deep affection. “You, my beloveds, have left behind everything, even the path of dharma, to serve me alone. Though you worship me directly, I sometimes conceal myself from you; please, do not be resentful of this. Your devotion is flawless and pure, and I am unable to repay it—not even if I possessed the lifespan of the gods themselves. Those who have broken the iron bonds of home and attachment for my sake, let their own virtuous deeds be the reward for such love.” Thus concluded the chapter known as ‘The Consolation of the Gopīs,’ a sacred portion of the Śrīmad Bhāgavatam, the great Purāṇa, the scripture of the supreme swan. Krishna continued, “When devotion, in the form of yoga, is directed toward Bhagavan Vasudeva, it quickly gives rise to detachment and the knowledge that leads to realization of Brahman. When a person’s mind, through the senses, ceases to make distinctions among objects—whether pleasant or unpleasant—then, in that very moment, he perceives himself as unattached, seeing all equally. He becomes free from acceptance and rejection, established in the supreme state. “Pure knowledge alone is the supreme Brahman—the Supreme Self, the Lord, the Person. Bhagavan is perceived as one, though he appears as many through the objects of perception and so forth. Only to this extent, through complete yoga, does the yogi attain the desired goal here: total detachment from all things. “This one knowledge, by the outward-turned senses, appears—through illusion—in the form of many objects, as Brahman without qualities taking on the characteristics of sound and so on. 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, so too is this seen by one who, with faith and devotion, practices yoga constantly, whose mind is collected, who is 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 prakriti and purusha. 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 Bhagavan, 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, one who is engaged in both—through realization of the truth of the self, and by firm detachment, Bhagavan is attained by these means, 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 knowledge should never be taught to the wicked, nor to the undisciplined, nor to the arrogant, nor to the hostile, nor to those who are only outwardly religious. It should not be given to the greedy, nor to one whose mind is absorbed in household life, nor to those who are 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 such a person let this be given, to one who is outwardly detached, whose mind is peaceful, pure, and for whom I am the dearest among the dear. “O mother, any person who even once hears this with faith, or who recites it with mind fixed on me, surely attains my path.” Śuka then spoke: Thus, having heard these most beautiful words from Krishna, the cowherd women felt their pain of separation melt away. Their every desire was fulfilled simply by his presence. There, in the moonlit groves of Vraja, Govinda began the rāsa play, encircled by the devoted and joyful gopīs—the finest of all women—each entwined with another’s arm. The festival of rāsa commenced, the circle of gopīs resplendent, with Krishna, the lord of yogis, standing between each pair among them. Moving among them, he drew the women close by the neck, and those who beheld this wondrous sight imagined the sky itself crowded with hundreds of flying palaces. The gods, together with their wives, gazed upon this scene, their minds swept away by eagerness. Celestial drums resounded, showers of flowers fell from the heavens, and the lords of the Gandharvas sang Krishna’s spotless glory with their wives. Within the rāsa circle arose a joyful tumult—the sound of bracelets, anklets, and bells mingling with the laughter and song of the women and their beloved. Among them, Krishna, the son of Devakī, shone brilliantly, like a great emerald set among golden gems. With the stamping of feet, the waving of arms, glances full of smiles, playful movements of brows, and swaying earrings brushing their cheeks, the gopīs danced. Their loosened hair, damp with sweat, caught the moonlight as they sang, shining like flashes of lightning within a circle of clouds. Dancing, their voices raised, their throats flushed with passion, the gopīs were delighted by Krishna’s touch and filled the grove with their song. One, together with Mukunda, skillfully blended her singing with his. Honored by his affection and praised with “well done, well done,” she sang again and again, and he showed her special favor. Another, exhausted from the rāsa, rested her arm—her bracelet loosened, jasmine garland slipping—upon the shoulder of the mace-bearer who stood beside her. One gopī, taking Krishna’s arm, fragrant with blue lotus and sandalwood, pressed it to her nose and, thrilled with joy, kissed it. Another, her cheek adorned with the gleam of earrings tossed by her dancing, pressed her cheek to his and offered him betel she had chewed. One, dancing and singing, her anklets and girdle ringing, grew weary and placed the lotus hand of Acyuta, who stood beside her, upon her breasts for comfort. The gopīs, having gained Acyuta—the exclusive consort of Śrī—as their beloved, embraced him around the neck with their arms and, singing, enjoyed his company. With lotus earrings, shining locks, cheeks glistening with sweat, faces radiant, and the music of bracelets and anklets, the gopīs danced with the Lord. Their garlands loosened in their hair, bees sang among the blossoms in the cowherd’s grove. In this way, with gentle embraces, the touch of hands, affectionate glances, playful smiles and laughter, Krishna—the Lord of Lakshmi—delighted with the beautiful women of Vraja, just as a child delights in his own reflected image.