Amidst the assembly of the gopīs, the Lord—son of Devakī—shone with surpassing brilliance, radiant like a great emerald set among golden gems. Around Him, the wives of Kṛṣṇa danced in delight: their feet stamping, arms waving, eyes sparkling with playful glances, and brows arching in merriment. Their earrings swayed, brushing their cheeks; their loosened braids, damp with sweat, framed their glowing faces. In their joyous abandon, they sang, their beauty flashing like lightning within a ring of clouds. As they danced, their voices rose in song, throats flushed with passion, intoxicated by Kṛṣṇa’s touch. The sound of their singing filled the grove, echoing their happiness. One among them, standing with Mukunda, skillfully harmonized her voice with His. Kṛṣṇa, full of affection, praised her—“Well done, well done!”—and she sang again and again, honored by His favor. Another, weary from the rāsa dance, rested her arm—her bracelet loose, jasmine garland slipping—upon the shoulder of the mighty mace-bearer at her side. One gopī, thrilled with joy, drew Kṛṣṇa’s lotus arm—fragrant with blue lotus and smeared with sandalwood—close to her nose and kissed it. Another, her cheek shining with the gleam of earrings tossed by her dancing, pressed her cheek to His and lovingly offered Him betel she had chewed. One, her anklets and girdle ringing as she danced and sang, grew tired and placed Acyuta’s lotus hand upon her breasts for comfort, as He stood beside her. The gopīs, having attained Acyuta—the exclusive consort of Śrī—as their beloved, embraced Him around the neck and, singing, delighted in His company. Their lotus earrings and locks of hair shone, cheeks radiant with sweat, faces aglow. The music of bracelets and anklets mingled with their laughter as they danced with the Lord, garlands loosened in their hair, surrounded by bees humming in the cowherds’ grove. With embraces, touches, affectionate glances, playful smiles and laughter, the Lord of Lakṣmī delighted with the beautiful women of Vraja, just as a child delights in his own reflection. Their senses overwhelmed with joy from His touch, the women of Vraja—hair, garments, or breastbands loosened—could not properly gather up what had fallen; their garlands and ornaments slipped down as they moved. Witnessing Kṛṣṇa’s playful sports, the celestial women in the heavens grew bewildered, overcome by desire, and even the moon and his retinue stood astonished. By His own playful will, the Blessed Lord assumed as many forms as there were cowherd women, though He is self-satisfied, so that each gopī felt Him present with her alone. When they became weary from such abundant play, He, ever compassionate and loving, gently wiped their faces with His peaceful hand. The gopīs, cheeks adorned by the radiance of golden earrings and hair, with sweet smiles and glances, sang of the glorious deeds of the Supreme Person, feeling blessed by the touch of His lotus hands. Surrounded by these 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. There, as the young women bathed Him, gazed upon Him with love and laughter, and as celestial beings showered flowers in praise, He—the self-delighting Lord—played like the king of elephants. In Kṛṣṇa’s own grove, on land and water, where the air was filled with the fragrance of flowers, He wandered, surrounded by joyful women, like a rutting elephant with his female companions. Thus, through nights adorned by the moon’s rays, He, true to His promise and surrounded by loving women, enjoyed with them—His passion absorbed within Himself—relishing the poetic essence of the autumn season. Hearing of these wondrous pastimes, King Parīkṣit asked: “O Brahman, the Lord of the universe descends to establish righteousness and subdue unrighteousness. How, then, could He, who is the speaker, doer, and protector of dharma, act contrary to it by touching the wives of others? The Lord of the Yadus, though self-satisfied, performed an act censured by the world. What was His intention? Please dispel my doubt, O virtuous one.” Śuka replied: “Among the lords—gods and the powerful—transgressions of righteousness and bold acts are seen; for the mighty, there is no fault, just as fire consumes all things, yet remains pure. One who is not a lord should never imitate such acts, not even in thought; if he does so 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 accord with reason. “Their conduct is without personal aim, nor is there harm for those without ego, even if the opposite seems to occur. 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. Those who are satisfied by serving the dust of His lotus feet, whose yoga has 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 many bodies. For the sake of showing favor to living beings, He has taken on a human form and performs such pastimes. Hearing of these, one becomes devoted to Him. “Indeed, the residents of Vraja, deluded by His māyā, did not envy Kṛṣṇa; each thought those beside them to be their own spouse. 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.” Śuka continued: Once, during a festival for the gods, the cowherds, filled with excitement, set out for the forest of Ambikā, their oxen yoked to carts. There, after bathing in the Sarasvatī, they worshipped the mighty Lord Paśupati with offerings, and also the goddess Ambikā, with devotion. They respectfully gave cows, gold, clothing, honey, and food to the brāhmaṇas, praying, “May the Lord be pleased with us.” On the bank of the Sarasvatī, having drunk water and observed vows, the blessed Nanda, Sunanda, and others spent the night. But in that forest, a great serpent, driven by hunger, came by chance and seized Nanda as he lay asleep. Gripped by the serpent, Nanda cried out in terror, “Kṛṣṇa, Kṛṣṇa, this is terrible! Father, a snake is swallowing me—save me, I have taken refuge in you!