One night in the fragrant groves of Vraja, the gopīs, their hearts overflowing with love, danced and sang with Krishna. Their anklets and girdles rang out as one among them, weary from delight, gently placed Krishna’s lotus hand—Acyuta, who stood beside her—upon her breasts for comfort. The gopīs, having attained Krishna, the beloved consort of Śrī herself, sang joyfully as they embraced him with their arms around his neck, reveling in his company. They danced together, their lotus-shaped earrings swaying, hair and cheeks aglow with perspiration, faces radiant with bliss. The music of their bracelets and anklets mingled with the hum of bees attracted to the garlands loosened in their tresses, as they moved with Krishna in the enchanting cowherd’s grove. In that divine play, Krishna, Lord of Lakshmi, delighted the beautiful women of Vraja with embraces, gentle touches, affectionate glances, and playful smiles and laughter—just as a child delights in his own reflection. So overwhelmed were the gopīs by the joy of Krishna’s touch that their senses failed them: hair, garments, and breastbands slipped loose, and they could scarcely gather up the garlands and ornaments that fell, their hands trembling with ecstasy. The celestial women, watching these playful sports from the sky, became bewildered and overcome by desire; even the moon and his retinue gazed on in astonishment. By his own playful will, the Blessed Lord assumed as many forms as there were cowherd women, though he was ever self-satisfied, and enjoyed with each one. When the gopīs grew tired from their exuberant play, Krishna, ever compassionate, gently wiped their faces with his peaceful hand. Their cheeks adorned by the glow of golden earrings and their hair, the gopīs sang of Krishna’s glorious deeds, their smiles and glances sweet, feeling supremely blessed by the touch of his lotus hands. Surrounded by the women, their garlands crushed and smeared with the saffron from their breasts, Krishna entered the forest, followed by hosts of Gandharvas, just as a mighty elephant, weary, breaks through a dam into the water, surrounded by his female companions. There, as the young women bathed him, gazed upon him with love and laughter, and as the celestial beings showered him with flowers, Krishna, the self-delighting Lord, sported like the king of elephants. He wandered through his grove, on land and water, the air fragrant with flowers, surrounded by joyful women like a rutting elephant with his mates. Night after night, adorned by the moon’s rays, Krishna, true to his promise, enjoyed with the loving gopīs, his passion absorbed within himself as he savored the poetic beauty of the autumn season. At this, King Parikshit, filled with wonder, questioned Śuka: “O Brahman, the Lord descends to establish righteousness and subdue unrighteousness. How then could he, the protector of dharma, act contrary to it by touching the wives of others? The Lord of the Yadus, who is self-satisfied, performed an act censured by the world—what was his intention? Please dispel my doubt.” Śuka replied, “Transgressions and bold acts are sometimes seen among the lords, the gods; for the powerful, there is no fault, just as fire consumes everything. One who is not a lord should never imitate this, 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 and deeds of the lords are true, but the wise should follow only those that accord with reason. The lords act without personal motive; for the egoless, there is no harm, even if the opposite appears. For all other beings—animals, mortals, gods—good and evil apply, for they are ruled and to be ruled. “But those who are satisfied by serving the dust of Krishna’s lotus feet, whose yoga has dissolved all karma, roam freely as sages, unbound; and for the Lord, who assumes a body by his own will, there can be no bondage. He dwells within all beings—the gopīs, their husbands, everyone—overseeing all, playing in many forms. Out of compassion, he takes a human form and performs these pastimes, hearing which one becomes devoted to him. The people of Vraja, deluded by his māyā, did not envy Krishna, believing those beside them to be their own spouses. “When the long night of Brahmā had ended, the gopīs, beloved of the Lord, though reluctant, returned home with Krishna’s blessing. Whoever faithfully hears or recounts this play of Viṣṇu with the wives of Vraja quickly attains supreme devotion, and the wise are freed from the disease of lust in the heart.” Śuka continued: “Once, during a festival for the gods, the cowherds, eager and excited, set out for the Ambikā forest with their oxen yoked to carts. There, after bathing in the Sarasvatī, they worshipped Lord Paśupati with offerings, and also the goddess Ambikā, with devotion. They gave cows, gold, clothing, honey, and food to the brāhmaṇas, praying, ‘May the Lord be pleased with us.’ “Having drunk water and observed vows on the riverbank, Nanda, Sunanda, and the others spent the night there. As they slept in the forest, a great, hungry serpent happened by chance and seized Nanda in its coils. Gripped by the snake, Nanda cried out, ‘Krishna, Krishna, this is terrible! Father, a snake is swallowing me—save me, I take refuge in you!’ “Hearing his cries, the cowherds awoke and rushed to his aid, striking the serpent with sticks, but even as they burned it with firebrands, it would not release him. Then Krishna, Lord of the Sātvatas, approached and touched the serpent with his foot. Instantly, the serpent’s evil was destroyed; abandoning its form, it became a radiant Vidyādhara, adorned with a golden garland. “Krishna asked him, ‘Who are you, shining with such splendor? How did you come to this fallen state?’ The serpent replied, ‘I am Sudarśana, a Vidyādhara, famed for my beauty and wealth, traveling the skies in my chariot. Proud of my appearance, I was cursed by the sages Virupa and Angirasa and forced into this birth, by my own fault.