Śrī Śuka spoke: When the cowherd women of Vraja heard the enchanting words of Lord Krishna, all the pain of separation that had tormented their hearts melted away. Their deepest desires were fulfilled simply by his presence, and joy blossomed within them. In that radiant moment, Govinda gathered those devoted, jubilant women—jewels among all women—who stood together with arms entwined. There, he began the divine rāsa dance, the festival of love. The circle of gopīs shone brilliantly, and Krishna, the master of all yogis, manifested himself between each pair, so that each felt his intimate presence. He moved among them, drawing them near with gentle arms around their necks, and to anyone who beheld this wondrous sight, it seemed as if the very heavens were crowded with hundreds of flying palaces. In the skies above, the gods and their consorts, filled with eagerness and wonder, watched this scene unfold. Drums resounded, showers of flowers rained down, and the Gandharvas, accompanied by their wives, sang pure praises of Krishna’s spotless glory. The rāsa circle became alive with the melodious tumult of bracelets, anklets, and bells, as the beloved gopīs danced with their Lord. Amidst them all, Krishna—the illustrious son of Devakī—shone with incomparable splendor, like a great emerald set among golden gems. The gopīs, their feet stamping, arms waving, eyes sparkling with playful glances, and brows dancing with delight, moved in harmony. Their earrings swayed, brushing their cheeks, their loosened hair damp with sweat, and their faces glowed as they sang with Krishna, shining like flashes of lightning within a circle of clouds. Their voices, flushed with passion and delight from Krishna’s touch, rose in song, filling the grove with music. One gopī, singing alongside Mukunda, skillfully matched her voice to his. Honored by his affectionate praise—“Well done, well done!”—she sang again and again, basking in his special favor. Another, weary from the dance, rested her arm, her bracelet slipping and jasmine garland loosened, upon Krishna’s strong shoulder. One gopī, intoxicated by joy, took Krishna’s fragrant, lotus-like arm—smeared with sandalwood and blue lotus—to her nose and kissed it in delight. Another, her cheek aglow from the dance and the gleam of her earrings, pressed her cheek to Krishna’s and offered him betel from her own lips. Yet another, tired from singing and dancing, her anklets and girdle ringing, placed Krishna’s lotus hand upon her breast for comfort. The gopīs, having gained Acyuta—the eternal consort of Śrī—as their beloved, embraced him with their arms, singing as they rejoiced in his company. Their lotus earrings and shining locks, cheeks beaded with sweat, faces radiant, and garlands loosened in their hair, they danced with Krishna, while bees sang in the cowherd’s grove. With embraces, gentle touches, loving glances, playful smiles, and laughter, the Lord of Lakshmi delighted in the beauty of the women of Vraja, just as a child delights in his own reflection. Their senses overwhelmed with joy from Krishna’s touch, the gopīs—hair, garments, and breastbands loosened—could hardly gather up what had fallen; their garlands and ornaments slipped down, so absorbed were they in his presence. Witnessing Krishna’s playful sports, even the celestial women in the heavens became bewildered and overcome with longing, and the moon himself, with his retinue, was astonished. By his divine will, Krishna assumed as many forms as there were gopīs, so that each one felt his exclusive love, though he remained ever self-satisfied. When the gopīs grew tired from their play, Krishna, full of compassion and love, gently wiped their faces with his peaceful hand. Their cheeks adorned by golden earrings and radiant hair, the gopīs, with sweet smiles and glances, sang of Krishna’s glorious deeds, feeling blessed by the touch of his lotus hands. Surrounded by women whose garlands were crushed and smeared with the saffron from their breasts, Krishna entered the forest, accompanied by hosts of Gandharvas, just as a great elephant, breaking through a dam, enters the water surrounded by his mates. There, as he was bathed by the young women, gazed upon with love and laughter from all sides, and honored by the celestials showering flowers, Krishna, the self-delighting Lord, sported like the king of elephants. In Krishna’s grove, on land and water fragrant with flowers, he wandered, surrounded by joyful women, like a rutting elephant with his companions. Thus, through nights adorned by the moon’s rays, Krishna, true to his word and surrounded by loving women, enjoyed with them, his passion absorbed within himself, savoring the poetic beauty of the autumn season. At this, King Parikshit asked: “O Brahman, the Lord of the universe descends to establish righteousness and subdue unrighteousness. How then could he, the speaker, doer, and protector of dharma, act contrary to its boundaries by touching the wives of others? The Lord of the Yadus is self-satisfied—why did he perform an act that is censured? Please dispel my doubt.” Śuka replied: “Transgressions and bold acts are sometimes seen among the lords, O King; for the powerful, there is no fault, just as fire consumes everything. One who is not a lord should never imitate such acts, not even in thought; for if one acts out of ignorance, he is destroyed, just as Rudra was harmed by the ocean’s poison. The words and deeds of the lords are true, but the wise should follow only those that are in accord with reason. The lords act without personal motive, and there is no harm for those without ego, even if the opposite appears. But for all beings—animals, mortals, and gods—who are subject to rules, the connection of good and evil remains. Those who are fully satisfied by serving the dust of Krishna’s lotus feet, whose yoga has dissolved all karma, roam freely as sages, unbound. For one who has assumed a body by Krishna’s will, how could there be bondage at all? He who dwells within all beings—the gopīs, their husbands, and everyone—is the witness, playing in all forms. To show favor to living beings, he has taken on a human body and performs such pastimes, hearing which one becomes devoted to him. Indeed, the people of Vraja, deluded by his māyā, did not envy Krishna, thinking those beside them to be their own spouses. When the night of Brahmā had ended, the gopīs, beloved of the Lord, though reluctant, returned to their homes with Vasudeva’s approval. Whoever faithfully hears or recounts this divine play of the wives of Vraja with Lord Viṣṇu quickly attains supreme devotion to the Lord, and the wise person swiftly removes the disease of lust from the heart.