One should never attempt to imitate the actions of the Supreme Lord—not even in thought—unless one is truly the master of all, for to do so out of ignorance leads only to destruction, just as Rudra was harmed by the poison from the ocean. The words spoken by divine beings are always true, and so too are their deeds at times; yet, the wise should follow only those words and actions that are in harmony with reason. The conduct of the Lords is skillful and without personal motive; and for those who are free of ego, even the reversal of normal order brings no harm. But for all other beings—animals, mortals, and gods alike—who are governed and subject to being governed, the bonds of good and evil remain. Those who are content to serve the dust of the Lord’s lotus feet, whose yogic powers have dissolved all karmic bondage, move about the world as liberated sages, unrestrained. By the Lord’s will, even when they assume a body, no bondage can touch them. For the Supreme dwells within all beings—the gopīs, their husbands, and every embodied soul—overseeing all, delighting in His play within these forms. To show favor to the living, the Lord Himself has taken on a human form and performs wondrous pastimes; merely hearing of these, one’s heart is drawn to devotion. Indeed, the residents of Vraja, bewildered by His divine māyā, bore no envy toward Krishna, even as those beside them appeared as their own spouses. And when the night of Brahmā ended, though reluctant, the gopīs—so dear to the Lord—returned to their homes with Krishna’s approval. Whoever faithfully hears or recounts these divine pastimes of the wives of Vraja with Lord Viṣṇu attains supreme devotion swiftly, and the wise quickly remove the disease of lust from their hearts. Śuka continued: Once, during a festival for the gods, the cowherds, filled with excitement, journeyed to the Ambikā forest, their oxen yoked to carts. There, they bathed in the sacred Sarasvatī and, with deep devotion, worshipped the mighty Lord Paśupati and the goddess Ambikā. They offered cows, gold, clothing, honey, and food to the brāhmaṇas, praying, “May the Lord be pleased with us.” After drinking the river’s water and observing their vows, Nanda, Sunanda, and the others spent the night on the riverbank. But as they slept in the forest, a great and ravenous serpent, by chance, approached and seized Nanda in its coils. Awakened in terror, Nanda cried out, “Krishna! Krishna! This is terrible! Father, a snake is swallowing me—save me, I take refuge in you!” Hearing his desperate cries, the cowherds hastened from their sleep, and, seeing Nanda ensnared, they struck the serpent with sticks in bewilderment. Yet, even as they burned it with firebrands, the serpent would not release him. Then the Lord, the master of the Sātvatas, approached and touched the serpent with His lotus feet. Instantly, the touch of the glorious Lord shattered the creature’s evil; the serpent shed its reptilian form and appeared as a radiant Vidyādhara, adorned with a golden garland, honored among the celestial beings. Hrishikesha, the Lord of the senses, questioned the newly freed being, who stood before Him, bowing in gratitude and shining with supreme splendor: “Who are you, who shines so wondrously? How did you come to be in such a lowly state?” The former serpent replied, “I am Sudarśana, a Vidyādhara known for my beauty and wealth, traveling the skies in my aerial chariot. Once, proud of my appearance, I was mocked and cursed by the sages Virupa and Angirasa, and thus I was born as a serpent. But their curse, given in compassion, has become my blessing—for the touch of your foot has destroyed all my misfortune.” “Now freed from the curse, I beg you—O remover of fear, O refuge of the distressed—permit me to depart, having received the blessing of your foot’s touch. I have taken shelter in you, O great yogi, O supreme person, O lord of the virtuous; please grant me leave, O master of all worlds. Instantly, by seeing you, I am freed from Brahma’s punishment; your very name purifies all who hear it—how much more so when one is touched by your foot!” Having received Krishna’s permission, Sudarśana circled the Lord in reverence and ascended to heaven, while Nanda was released from his peril. The people of Vraja, witnessing Krishna’s divine power, were filled with astonishment. After fulfilling their vows, they joyfully returned home, recounting all that had occurred. On another night, Govinda and Rama, both mighty and wondrous, delighted themselves in the forest, surrounded by the women of Vraja. Adorned with garlands and anointed with fragrant oils, dressed in spotless garments, Krishna and Balarama were serenaded sweetly by the gopīs, bound to them in deep friendship. As the stars and moon rose, the night air was perfumed with jasmine and the hum of intoxicated bees, carried on the breeze from lotus-filled ponds. Together, they sang a melody so skillful and harmonious that it blessed the minds and ears of all who heard. The gopīs, entranced by the song, lost awareness of themselves; their garments slipped, and their hair and garlands became loose. As they reveled and sang in bliss, Shankhachuda—the famed follower of Kubera—approached. Seeing the women gathered and calling out, while Krishna and Rama watched, Shankhachuda began to drive the gopīs northward without hesitation. Hearing the cries of the women—“Krishna! Rama!”—and seeing their companions seized, Krishna and Balarama rushed after them, just as brothers would chase a thief who had stolen their cows. Calling out, “Do not fear!” with voices of reassurance, the two powerful brothers, armed with clubs, swiftly pursued the wicked Yaksha. Seeing Krishna and Rama approach like Death and Time, the Yaksha, foolish and afraid, abandoned the women and fled, desperate to save his life. Govinda pursued him relentlessly, intent on seizing the jewel from his head, while Balarama remained behind to protect the women. Thus, the Lord’s pastimes continued, ever wondrous and ever a source of devotion and awe for all who hear of them.