The gopīs, their cheeks glowing with the radiance of golden earrings and shining hair, adorned their faces with sweet smiles and enchanting glances. Joyful and blessed by the touch of Krishna’s lotus hands, they sang together of his glorious deeds, celebrating the foremost of men. Surrounded by these devoted women, their flower garlands crushed and streaked with saffron from their own breasts, Krishna entered the forest. Hosts of Gandharvas followed, their music filling the air, just as a weary elephant, breaking through a dam, enters the cooling waters, attended by his female companions. Within that forest, the young women bathed Krishna, gazing upon him with love and laughter from every side. Celestial beings showered flowers upon him, their praises resounding through the trees. The Lord, delighting in his own bliss, sported among them like the king of elephants among his herd. In Krishna’s own grove, on both land and water, where the air was fragrant with blooming flowers, he wandered, ever surrounded by joyful women, as a rutting elephant enjoys the company of his beloved mates. So, through nights adorned by the gentle rays of the autumn moon, Krishna kept his word to the gopīs. He delighted with them, their hearts filled with devotion, his own passion absorbed within himself, savoring the poetic beauty of the season. Each moment was a festival of love and divine play. Hearing of these wondrous deeds, King Parikshit, ever mindful of righteousness, asked, “O Brahman, the Lord descends to establish dharma and to subdue adharma. How, then, could he, who is the very speaker, doer, and protector of righteousness, act contrary to it by touching the wives of others? Krishna, the Lord of the Yadus, who is self-satisfied, performed an act that is censured by ordinary standards. What was his intention in this? Please, dispel my doubt, O virtuous one.” Shuka replied, “Among the lords and gods, transgressions and bold acts are sometimes seen. For the powerful, there is no fault—just as fire consumes all things without blame. One who is not a lord must never imitate such acts, not even in thought. If someone acts so out of ignorance, he perishes, 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 with no personal aim; for those without ego, there is no harm, even if the opposite appears to occur. But for all beings—animals, mortals, and gods—who are ruled and subject to rules, the connection of good and evil applies. Those who are satisfied by serving the dust of Krishna’s 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 dwells within all beings—the gopīs, their husbands, and everyone embodied—as the inner overseer, playing in these forms. 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 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 Viṣṇu, quickly attains supreme devotion to the Lord, and the wise swiftly remove the disease of lust from the heart.” Shuka continued, “Once, during a festival for the gods, the cowherds, full of excitement, set out for the Ambikā forest, their oxen yoked to carts. There, after bathing in the sacred Sarasvatī, they worshipped the mighty Lord Paśupati with offerings, and the goddess Ambikā with heartfelt 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 the pure water and observed their vows, the blessed Nanda, Sunanda, and others spent the night. But as they slept, a great, hungry serpent came by chance and seized Nanda Mahārāja. 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 awoke and, seeing their leader in danger, struck the serpent with sticks. Even as they burned it with firebrands, the serpent did not release Nanda. Then Krishna, the master of the Sātvatas, approached and touched the serpent with his lotus feet. Instantly, the serpent’s evil was destroyed; shedding its reptilian form, it assumed a radiant body honored by the Vidyādharas. Krishna, the Lord of the senses, questioned the shining being, who stood before him, bowing and adorned with a golden garland. ‘Who are you, who shines with such splendor and wondrous appearance? How did you come to be in this despicable state?’ The former serpent replied, ‘I am a Vidyādhara named Sudarśana, known for my beauty and wealth, traveling the skies in my aerial chariot. The sages Virupa and Angirasa, proud of their own appearance, laughed at me and, by their curse, I was made to enter this birth as a serpent. But truly, their curse was for my benefit, for by the touch of your foot, O teacher of the world, all my misfortune is destroyed. Now freed, I ask you—who remove fear for those terrified by worldly existence and who grant refuge—to permit me to depart, having received the blessing of your touch. I have taken refuge in you, O great yogi, O supreme person, O lord of the virtuous; please grant me leave, O god, master of all worlds and their rulers. I am freed from Brahma’s punishment at once, O infallible one, by seeing you. Your name alone purifies all who hear it—how much more so, then, when one is touched by your foot.’ Having received Krishna’s permission, Sudarśana circled him in reverence and ascended to heaven, his curse lifted, and Nanda was released unharmed from his distress. Witnessing Krishna’s divine power, the residents of Vraja were astonished and filled with wonder. After completing their observance, they returned to Vraja, joyfully recounting all that had occurred. Once again, Govinda and Rama, both possessing wondrous strength, enjoyed themselves in the forest at night, surrounded by the women of Vraja. Adorned and anointed, wearing garlands and spotless garments, the two brothers were sung to sweetly by the women, bound to them in deep friendship and love.