Hear now the sacred narrative as revealed in these verses. Pure knowledge alone is the supreme Brahman, the Supreme Self, the Lord, the Person; though Bhagavan is truly one, he is perceived as distinct, appearing through the diversity of objects and experiences. Through the perfection of yoga, a yogi attains the highest goal here in this very life: complete detachment from all things. This one knowledge, when reflected outwardly by the senses, appears—through the power of illusion—as the manifold world of objects, as Brahman without qualities seemingly taking on the forms of sound and so forth. Just as the great principle, becoming ego, divides itself threefold and fivefold, ruling itself, and in its elevenfold form becomes the cosmic egg from which the world arises, so too does differentiation appear. Yet this truth is seen by one who, with faith and devotion, practices yoga constantly, whose mind is collected and unattached, who sees all with detachment. Thus has this profound knowledge, the vision of Brahman, been spoken—a wisdom by which one discerns the true nature of both prakriti (nature) and purusha (spirit). Just as an object, though possessing many qualities, is not divided when perceived through the separate gates of the senses, so too is Bhagavan, though approached by various scriptural paths, ever one. By action, by sacrifice, by gifts, by austerity, by study, by self-restraint, by mastery over the senses and mind, and by renunciation of actions; by yoga in its various limbs, by the yoga of devotion, by dharma marked by both activity and renunciation—by all these means, through realization of the self and firm detachment, Bhagavan 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 itself enters the unmanifest, disappears among living beings. The countless cycles of transmigration, created by ignorance and action, are the paths into which the soul enters, yet, bewildered, does not know its own way. This knowledge should never be given to the wicked, the undisciplined, the arrogant, the hostile, nor to those who are merely outwardly religious. It should not be taught to the greedy, to those absorbed in household life, to those not devoted to me, nor 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—let this be given. To one who is outwardly detached, peaceful in mind, pure, free from envy, and for whom I am the dearest among the dear, this knowledge should be imparted. O mother, anyone who even once hears this with faith, or recites it with mind fixed on me, surely attains my path. Śrī Śuka continued: Thus, having heard these most beautiful words of the Lord, the cowherd women let go of the pain born of separation; their desires were fulfilled by his presence. There, Govinda began the rāsa play, surrounded by the devoted and joyful gopīs, the finest jewels among 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 among them, he drew the women close by the neck; those who witnessed this divine play would imagine the sky crowded with hundreds of flying palaces. The gods, along with their wives, their minds swept away by eagerness, watched this wondrous scene; then drums sounded from the heavens, showers of flowers fell, and the lords of the Gandharvas sang his spotless glory with their wives. In the rāsa circle arose a tumultuous sound from the bracelets, anklets, and bells of the women, together with their beloved. Among them, the Lord, son of Devakī, shone exceedingly, as a great emerald among golden gems. With the stamping of feet, the waving of arms, smiling glances, playful movements of brows, swaying earrings brushing their cheeks, loosened hair braids damp with sweat, the wives of Kṛṣṇa sang; 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; being honored by him with affection and praised as "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-bearer who stood beside her. One, taking Kṛṣṇa's arm—fragrant with blue lotus and smeared with sandalwood—to her nose, 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, weary, placed the lotus hand of Acyuta, who stood beside her, upon her breasts for comfort. The gopīs, having gained Acyuta as their beloved—the exclusive consort of Śrī—embraced him around the neck with their arms and, singing, enjoyed with him. With lotus earrings, locks of hair, cheeks shining with sweat, faces radiant, and the music of bracelets and anklets, the gopīs danced together with the Lord, their garlands loosened in their hair, in the company of bees singing in the cowherd's grove. Thus, with embraces, touches of the hand, affectionate glances, exuberant playful smiles and laughter, the Lord of Lakshmi delighted with the beautiful women of Vraja, just as a child delights in his own reflected image. Their senses overwhelmed with joy from contact with his limbs, the women of Vraja—hair, garments, or breastbands loosened—could not properly gather up what had fallen, O best of the Kurus, their garlands and ornaments slipping down. Seeing Kṛṣṇa's playful sports, the celestial women in the sky became bewildered, overcome by desire; even the moon, along with his retinue, was astonished. Assuming as many forms as there were cowherd women, the Blessed Lord, though self-satisfied, enjoyed with them all by his own playful will. When they became tired from excessive play, he, compassionate and loving, gently wiped their faces with his peaceful hand, O dear one. The gopīs, their cheeks adorned by the radiance of golden earrings and hair, with sweet smiles and glances, sang of the glorious deeds of the foremost of men, feeling blessed by the touch of his lotus hands. Surrounded by those women, their garlands crushed and smeared with the saffron from their breasts, he entered the forest, followed by hosts of Gandharvas—just as a weary elephant, breaking through a dam, enters the water surrounded by female elephants.