O King, a question arose among the sages: How could Krishna, the upholder of righteousness, who speaks, acts, and protects dharma’s boundaries, act against those very principles by touching the wives of others? The Lord of the Yadus, who is ever self-satisfied, performed an act that is often criticized—what purpose lay behind this? Please, O virtuous one, dispel this doubt. Shuka replied: Among the lords—among the gods themselves—acts that seem to transgress righteousness or appear bold are sometimes seen. For those who are truly powerful, there is no fault, just as fire consumes all things without blame. But one who is not a master of oneself should never imitate such acts, not even in thought. If one does so out of ignorance, he is destroyed, just as Rudra was harmed by drinking the poison from the ocean. The words and deeds of the lords are true, yet the wise should follow only those which are in accord with reason and righteousness. The great ones, by their skillful conduct, have no personal aim in this world. For those without ego, there is no harm, even if they appear to do the opposite of what is right. But for all other beings—animals, mortals, and gods—who are subject to rule, the connection of good and evil remains. Those who are satisfied by serving the dust of Krishna’s lotus feet, who through yoga have dissolved all bondage of karma, roam freely as sages, unrestrained. For such ones, by Krishna’s will, even if they assume a body, how could there be any bondage at all? He, Krishna, dwells within all beings—the gopīs, their husbands, and every embodied soul—overseeing all, playing in these forms. In order to show favor to living beings, Krishna took on a human body and performed such wondrous pastimes. Simply by hearing of these, one becomes devoted to Him. Indeed, the residents of Vraja, deluded by Krishna’s māyā, did not envy Him, thinking those beside them to be their own spouses. When the great night, equal to a day 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 pastime 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. Shuka continued: Once, during a festival for the gods, the cowherds, filled with excitement, set out for the Ambikā forest with their oxen yoked to carts. There, after bathing in the sacred Sarasvatī river, they worshipped the mighty Lord Paśupati with offerings, and also the goddess Ambikā, with deep 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, after drinking its waters and observing their vows, Nanda, Sunanda, and others spent the night. In that forest, a great and hungry serpent came by chance and seized Nanda as he lay asleep. Gripped by the serpent, Nanda cried out, “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. Seeing Nanda seized, they were bewildered and struck the serpent with sticks. Even as it was burned by firebrands, the serpent did not release him. Then the Lord Krishna, master of the Sātvatas, approached and touched the serpent with His foot. At the touch of the glorious Lord’s foot, the serpent’s evil was destroyed; abandoning its serpent form, it assumed a radiant body, honored by the Vidyādharas. Hrishikesha, Krishna, questioned the shining figure who stood there, bowing and adorned with a golden garland: “Who are you, O radiant one? How did you come to be in such a despicable state?” The being replied, “I am a Vidyādhara named Sudarśana, famed for beauty and wealth, who once traveled the skies in my chariot. The sages Virupa and Angirasa laughed at me, and proud of my appearance, I earned their curse and was forced into this birth. Yet that curse, given by those compassionate souls, was truly for my benefit. For when I was touched by the foot of the teacher of the world, all misfortune was destroyed. Now, freed from the curse, I ask you—who remove fear for those terrified by worldly existence—to permit me to depart, having received the blessing of your foot’s touch. I have taken refuge in you, O supreme person, lord of the virtuous; please grant me leave, O god, master of all worlds. I am freed from Brahma’s punishment at once, O infallible one, by seeing you. Your name, when uttered, instantly purifies all listeners and oneself—how much more so, then, when one is touched by your foot.” Having received Krishna’s permission, Sudarśana circled Him, offered obeisance, and ascended to heaven, while Nanda was released from his distress. Witnessing Krishna’s divine power, the residents of Vraja were filled with wonder. After completing their observances, they joyfully returned to Vraja, recounting all that had occurred. Once, Govinda (Krishna) and Rama (Balarama), 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, they were sweetly sung to by the women, bound to them in friendship. As night fell, the stars and moon rose, and the air was filled with the fragrance of jasmine and intoxicated bees, carried by the breeze from the lotus ponds. Together, they sang, creating a melody that delighted the minds and ears of all beings, skillfully weaving harmonies. Hearing that song, the gopīs became faint, unaware of themselves; their garments slipped, and their hair and garlands loosened. As they played and sang, lost in delight, Shankhachuda, renowned as a follower of Kubera, approached. While Krishna and Rama watched, Shankhachuda, seeing the women gathered and crying out, began to drive them northward without hesitation. Seeing the women cry out, “Krishna! Rama!” and witnessing their companions seized, Krishna and Rama rushed after them, as brothers would pursue a thief who has stolen their cows.