The words and deeds of the lords are indeed true, yet the wise discern carefully, following only those that align with reason. These great souls act skillfully, not for personal gain, and those who are free from ego suffer no harm, even if events take an unexpected turn. But for all other beings—animals, mortals, and gods—who are governed and must govern in turn, actions carry the bonds of good and evil. Yet those who are satisfied by serving the dust of Krishna’s lotus feet, whose yogic power has dissolved all ties of karma, roam the world as sages, unbound and free. When, by His will, such souls take a body, what bondage could possibly hold them? For Krishna, who dwells within all beings—the gopīs, their husbands, and everyone embodied—acts as the inner overseer, delighting in His play within each form. Out of compassion for living beings, the Lord Himself has taken a human body and performs wondrous pastimes. Hearing of these pastimes, one’s heart is drawn to Him in devotion. The people of Vraja, bewildered by Krishna’s māyā, did not envy Him, even when they saw others beside them whom they thought to be their own spouses. And when the night of Brahmā ended, the beloved gopīs, though reluctant, returned to their homes with Krishna’s blessing. Whoever faithfully hears or recounts these divine sports of the wives of Vraja with Lord Viṣṇu quickly attains supreme devotion, and the wise swiftly remove the disease of lust from their hearts. Śukadeva 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, they worshipped Lord Paśupati with offerings and honored the goddess Ambikā with devotion. They respectfully gave 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 peacefully in the forest, a great, hungry serpent appeared by chance and seized Nanda in its coils. Startled and terrified, Nanda cried out, “Krishna! Krishna! This is terrible! Father, a snake is swallowing me—save me, I have taken refuge in you!” Hearing his desperate cries, the cowherds awoke and rushed to his aid. They struck the serpent with sticks and firebrands, but the creature would not release Nanda. Then Krishna, Lord of the Sātvatas, calmly approached and touched the serpent with His foot. Instantly, the serpent’s evil was destroyed, and it shed its monstrous form, taking on a radiant, beautiful body honored among the Vidyādharas. Krishna, the master of the senses, spoke to the shining figure, “Who are you, resplendent one? How did you come to be trapped in such a wretched state?” The transformed being bowed low and replied, “I am Sudarśana, a Vidyādhara, famed for my beauty and wealth, who once soared the skies in my celestial chariot. But proud of my appearance, I offended the sages Virupa and Angirasa. By their curse—justly earned by my own folly—I fell into this birth as a serpent. Yet their curse was truly a blessing, for by the touch of your lotus foot, all my misfortune has ended. Now freed, O remover of fear, I ask your permission to depart, having received the blessing of your touch. I have taken refuge in you, O supreme yogi, lord of all, and by your grace, I am freed from Brahma’s punishment. Your very name purifies all who hear it—how much more so the touch of your foot!” Krishna, the descendant of Dasarha, granted permission. Sudarśana circled the Lord in reverence, offered his obeisance, and then ascended joyfully to the heavens, while Nanda was released unharmed from his ordeal. The people of Vraja, witnessing Krishna’s divine power, were filled with wonder. After completing their observances, they returned to Vraja, their hearts light, joyfully recounting all that had happened. On another occasion, Govinda and Balarama, both endowed with wondrous strength, delighted themselves in the forest at night, surrounded by the women of Vraja. Adorned with garlands and fine garments, anointed with fragrant oils, they were serenaded sweetly by their companions, bound together in deep friendship. As night fell and the stars and moon rose, the air grew thick with the scent of jasmine and the buzzing of intoxicated bees, carried on the breeze from the lotus ponds. Together they sang, weaving melodies so enchanting that all who heard were blessed in mind and heart. The gopīs, overwhelmed by the music, became faint, their awareness lost, their garments slipping, hair and garlands coming undone. As they played and sang in bliss, Shankhachuda, a Yaksha famed as a follower of Kubera, approached. Seeing the women gathered and crying out, he brazenly began driving them northward. Krishna and Rama, hearing the cries of “Krishna! Rama!” from their companions, rushed after the Yaksha like brothers pursuing a thief who has stolen their cows. Calling out, “Do not fear!” the two powerful brothers, armed with clubs, swiftly chased the wicked Yaksha. Seeing them approach like Death and Time incarnate, the Yaksha abandoned the women and fled in terror. Govinda pursued him relentlessly, intent on seizing the jewel from his head, while Balarama stayed behind to protect the women. Catching up to the fleeing Yaksha, Krishna struck him powerfully on the head with His fist, taking the crest jewel and its companion jewel as His own. Thus did Krishna protect His people, and the night resounded with the glory of His pastimes.