In the sacred groves of Vraja, Govinda, the Supreme Lord, began the divine rāsa play, encircled by the gopīs—the most devoted and radiant among women, their arms entwined with one another in joy. The festival of rāsa commenced, its beauty magnified by the circle of gopīs, with Kṛṣṇa, the master of yogis, manifesting himself between each pair, so that each felt his loving presence beside her. He moved among them, drawing the women close by the neck in an embrace so enchanting that those who beheld the scene imagined the sky itself crowded with hundreds of flying palaces. From the heavens, the gods and their wives watched, their hearts carried away by eager wonder. Drums resounded in the sky, showers of flowers rained down, and the Gandharvas, lords of celestial music, sang Kṛṣṇa’s spotless glories with their own consorts. Within the rāsa circle, a tumultuous sound arose from the bracelets, anklets, and bells of the women, mingling with the laughter and movements of their beloved Lord. Among them, Kṛṣṇa, the son of Devakī, shone with surpassing brilliance, like a great emerald gleaming among golden gems. The gopīs danced with the Lord: their feet stamping, arms waving, eyes glancing with playful delight, brows arching in mischief. Their earrings swayed and brushed their cheeks, their hair loosened and damp with the sweat of joy. They sang as they danced, shining like flashes of lightning within a circle of clouds. Their voices rose in song, their throats flushed with passion, their hearts delighted by Kṛṣṇa’s touch. The place resounded with their melodious singing. One gopī, singing with Mukunda himself, skillfully blended her voice with his. Honored by his affectionate praise—"Well done, well done!"—she sang again and again, basking in his favor. Another, weary from the dance, rested her arm, her bracelet and jasmine garland loosened, upon the strong shoulder of Kṛṣṇa, the mace-bearer, who stood by her side. One gopī, intoxicated with joy, brought Kṛṣṇa’s arm—fragrant with blue lotus and sandalwood—to her nose and kissed it. Another, her cheek aglow with the light of her swirling earrings, pressed her cheek to his and lovingly offered him betel she had chewed. One, dancing and singing with her anklets and girdle ringing, grew tired and placed the lotus hand of Acyuta upon her breasts for comfort. The gopīs, having attained Acyuta—he who is the exclusive consort of Goddess Śrī—as their beloved, embraced him around the neck, singing and rejoicing in his company. With lotus earrings, radiant faces, hair and cheeks glistening with sweat, and the music of bracelets and anklets, the gopīs danced with the Lord. Their garlands loosened in their hair, accompanied by the hum of bees, they moved together in the cowherd’s grove. So it was that, through embraces, touches of the hand, loving glances, playful smiles, and laughter, the Lord of Lakṣmī delighted in the beauty of the women of Vraja, just as a child delights in his own reflection. Overwhelmed with joy from contact with his limbs, the gopīs found their hair, garments, and breastbands loosened. In their bliss, they could not properly gather up what had fallen—garlands and ornaments slipped from their bodies, O best of the Kurus. Witnessing Kṛṣṇa’s playful sports, the celestial women in the sky were bewildered, overcome by desire. Even the moon and his retinue gazed on in astonishment. By his divine power, the Blessed Lord assumed as many forms as there were cowherd women, though he himself is ever self-satisfied. He enjoyed with them all, moved only by his playful will. When the gopīs grew tired from their exuberant play, he, full of compassion and love, gently wiped their faces with his peaceful hand. Their cheeks adorned by the radiance of golden earrings and hair, the gopīs, with sweet smiles and loving glances, sang of Kṛṣṇa’s glorious deeds, feeling blessed by the touch of his lotus hands. Surrounded by these women, their garlands crushed and smeared with the saffron from their breasts, Kṛṣṇa entered the forest, followed by hosts of Gandharvas, just as a weary elephant, breaking through a dam, enters the water surrounded by his female companions. There, as he was bathed by the young women, gazed upon with love and laughter from all sides, and praised by the celestial beings showering flowers, the self-delighting Lord sported like the king of elephants. In Kṛṣṇa’s grove, on land and water fragrant with flowers, he wandered, surrounded by joyful women, just as a rutting elephant moves among his mates. Thus, through nights adorned by the rays of the moon, he, true to his word and surrounded by loving women, enjoyed with them, his passion absorbed within himself, savoring the poetic essence of the autumn season. At this point, King Parikshit, full of wonder, questioned Śuka: “The Lord of the universe descends to establish righteousness and subdue unrighteousness. How then could he, who is the protector and upholder of dharma, act contrary to its boundaries by touching the wives of others? The Lord of the Yadus, who is self-satisfied, performed an act that is censured—what was his intention in this? Please dispel my doubt, O virtuous one.” Śuka replied: “Transgressions of righteousness and bold acts are seen among the lords, the gods; for the powerful, there is no fault—just as fire consumes everything, yet remains pure. One who is not a lord should never imitate this, not even in thought; if he acts out of ignorance, he perishes, just as Rudra was harmed by the poison from the ocean. The words of the lords are true, and so too are their actions at times; the wise should follow only those of their words and deeds that are in accord with reason. By their skillful conduct, they have no personal aim here; nor is there harm for those without ego, even if the opposite occurs. What then of all beings—animals, mortals, and gods—who are ruled and to be ruled? The connection of good and evil applies to them. But those who are satisfied by serving the dust of his lotus feet, whose powers of yoga have dissolved all bondage of karma, roam freely as sages, unrestrained. By his will, having assumed a body, how could there be any bondage at all? He who dwells within all beings—the gopīs, their husbands, and everyone embodied—is the overseer, playing here in bodies. For the sake of showing favor to living beings, he has taken on a human body and performs such pastimes, hearing which one becomes devoted to him. Indeed, the residents of Vraja, deluded by his māyā, did not envy Kṛṣṇa, 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 play of the wives of Vraja with Viṣṇu quickly attains supreme devotion to the Lord, and the wise person swiftly removes the disease of lust from the heart. Thus spoke Śuka. Then, once, during a festival for the gods, the cowherds, filled with excitement, set out for the forest of Ambikā, their oxen yoked to carts, eager for the sacred celebration.