As the enchanting night of the rāsa-līlā unfolded on the banks of the Yamunā, the gopīs, their hearts overflowing with love for Krishna, delighted in his company. One of them, unable to contain her joy, took Krishna’s arm—fragrant with the scent of blue lotus and sandalwood—and, pressing it to her nose, thrilled with happiness, kissed it gently. Another, her cheek radiant from the shimmer of earrings tossed by her dancing, pressed her cheek to Krishna’s and lovingly offered him betel she herself had chewed. Yet another, exhausted from dancing and singing while her anklets and girdle chimed melodiously, found comfort by taking the lotus hand of Acyuta, who stood beside her, and placing it upon her breasts, seeking solace in his touch. The gopīs, having gained Krishna—Acyuta, the exclusive consort of Śrī—as their beloved, embraced him around the neck with their arms. Singing joyfully, they reveled in his presence. The night air was alive with the music of bracelets and anklets, and the gopīs, adorned with lotus earrings, shining cheeks, and radiant faces moist with sweat, danced with Krishna in the cowherd’s grove. Their garlands loosened in their hair, they moved together, accompanied by the humming of bees drawn to the blossoms around them. Krishna, the Lord of Lakshmi, delighted in the company of these beautiful women of Vraja, exchanging embraces, tender touches, affectionate glances, playful smiles, and laughter—just as a child delights in his own reflection. The gopīs, overwhelmed by the joy of contact with his limbs, found their hair, garments, and breastbands loosened in their excitement. Their garlands and ornaments slipped down, and in their bliss, they could hardly gather what had fallen. Even the celestial women watching from the sky were bewildered and overcome with longing at the sight of Krishna’s playful pastimes. The moon and his retinue gazed on in astonishment. By his own playful will, Krishna assumed as many forms as there were cowherd women, enjoying with each of them, though he himself was ever self-satisfied. When the gopīs grew weary from their ecstatic play, Krishna, compassionate and loving, gently wiped their faces with his peaceful hand. Their cheeks glowing with the light of golden earrings and loosened hair, the gopīs smiled sweetly and sang of Krishna’s glorious deeds, feeling blessed by the touch of his lotus hands. Surrounded by the women whose garlands were crushed and whose breasts bore the saffron marks of their embrace, Krishna entered the forest, followed by hosts of Gandharvas singing his praises—just as a mighty elephant, breaking through a dam, enters the water surrounded by his female companions. There, as the young women bathed him, gazed upon him with love and laughter, and celestial beings showered flowers from above, Krishna sported like the king of elephants, delighting in the affection surrounding him. He wandered with the joyful gopīs through his grove, both on land and in the water, the air filled with the fragrance of flowers. The moonlight adorned the nights as Krishna, true to his word, enjoyed the poetic beauty of the autumn season, his passion absorbed within himself, surrounded by loving companions. At this, King Parikshit, listening intently, asked, “O Brahman, the Lord descends to establish righteousness and subdue unrighteousness. How then could he, the very protector and upholder of dharma, act contrary to it by touching the wives of others? The Lord of the Yadus, though self-satisfied, performed an act that is censured—what was his intention in this? Please dispel my doubt.” Śuka replied, “Transgressions and bold acts are sometimes seen among the lords—the gods themselves. For the powerful, there is no fault, just as fire consumes all things. One who is not a lord should never imitate such acts, not even in thought; for if he acts out of ignorance, he will perish, just as Rudra was harmed by the poison of the ocean. The words and deeds of the lords are true, but the wise should follow only those that accord with reason. “The lords act skillfully, without personal aim; nor is there harm for those without ego, even if the opposite seems to occur. But for all other beings—animals, mortals, and gods—the connection of good and evil applies. Those who are satisfied by serving the dust of Krishna’s lotus feet, whose yoga has dissolved all bondage, roam freely as sages, unrestrained. By his will, having assumed a body, how could there be any bondage for him? “He who dwells within all beings—the gopīs, their husbands, and everyone embodied—is the inner overseer, merely playing in these forms. He has taken on a human body to show favor to living beings and performs such pastimes, hearing which one becomes devoted to him. The residents 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 Krishna’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 then continued: “Once, during a festival for the gods, the cowherds, filled with excitement, set out for the Ambikā forest with their oxen and carts. There, after bathing in the Sarasvatī, they worshipped the mighty Lord Paśupati and the goddess Ambikā with devotion, offering 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 their vows, Nanda, Sunanda, and the others spent the night. But as Nanda lay asleep in that forest, a great, hungry serpent came by chance and seized him. Gripped by the serpent, Nanda cried out in terror, ‘Krishna, Krishna, this is terrible! Father, a snake is swallowing me—save me, I have taken refuge in you!’ “Hearing his cries, the cowherds quickly woke and, seeing his plight, struck the serpent with sticks. Even as it was burned by firebrands, the serpent did not release Nanda. Then Krishna, the master of the Sātvatas, approached and touched the serpent with his foot. At the touch of the glorious Lord’s feet, the serpent’s evil was destroyed; abandoning its reptilian form, it assumed a radiant body honored by the Vidyādharas. “Krishna, Hrishikesha, asked the shining figure who bowed before him, adorned with a golden garland, ‘Who are you, who shines with such splendor and wondrous appearance? How were you forced into this despicable state?