What, then, can be said of all creatures—animals, mortals, even the gods themselves—who are subject to rule and are ruled in turn? For all of them, the bonds of good and evil, of merit and demerit, apply without exception. Yet, there are those rare souls who, finding fulfillment in serving the dust of the Lord’s lotus feet, dissolve all the shackles of karma by their yogic power. Such sages, freed from all bondage by His grace, move about unrestrained, at liberty in this world. When the Lord Himself, by His will, assumes a body and moves among beings, how could any bond of karma possibly bind Him? He, the supreme soul, dwells within all beings—the gopīs, their husbands, and every embodied creature—overseeing all, delighting in His divine play through countless forms. Out of compassion for living beings, He descended in human form and enacted wondrous pastimes. Simply hearing of these divine acts inspires devotion in the hearts of listeners. Indeed, in Vraja, the Lord’s own māyā deluded the residents so thoroughly that even when Krishna stood among them, none harbored envy; each believed that those beside them were their own spouses, so complete was their enchantment. When the long night of Brahmā’s creation ended, the beloved gopīs, though reluctant to part from Krishna, returned to their homes with His gentle approval. Whoever faithfully hears or recounts these sacred pastimes of the wives of Vraja with Lord Viṣṇu quickly attains supreme devotion to Him. Such a wise person swiftly removes the disease of lust from the heart, finding peace in the Lord’s love. Śuka continued: Once, during a festival in honor of the gods, the cowherds, their hearts brimming with excitement, set out for the forest of Ambikā, their oxen yoked to their carts. There, they bathed in the sacred Sarasvatī and, with devotion, worshipped the mighty Lord Paśupati and the goddess Ambikā. They made generous offerings to the brāhmaṇas—cows, gold, clothing, honey, and food—praying, “May the Lord be pleased with us.” That night, on the bank of the Sarasvatī, after drinking its pure waters and observing their vows, Nanda, Sunanda, and their companions rested. But as Nanda lay asleep, a great and ravenous serpent, driven by hunger, chanced upon him and seized him in its coils. Gripped by terror, Nanda cried out, “Krishna, Krishna, this is dreadful! Father, a snake is swallowing me—save me! I have taken refuge in you!” The cowherds, startled by his cries, sprang up. Seeing Nanda ensnared, they rushed to his aid, striking the serpent with sticks and firebrands in bewildered desperation. Yet, the serpent would not release him. Then Krishna, the Lord of the Sātvatas, approached and gently touched the serpent with His foot. In that instant, the serpent’s evil was destroyed. Shedding its loathsome form, it assumed a radiant, honored body, adorned with a golden garland, shining with the splendor of the Vidyādharas. Krishna, Hrishikesha, questioned him, “Who are you, O wondrous one, shining with such supreme radiance? How did you come to be in this wretched state?” The being replied with humility, “I am Sudarśana, a Vidyādhara, famed for my beauty and wealth, who once soared the skies in my celestial chariot. But the sages Virupa and Angirasa, proud of their own appearance, laughed at me. By my own folly, I incurred their curse and was cast into this birth as a serpent. Yet, their curse, given by those compassionate souls, has proved a blessing, for by the touch of your holy foot, O teacher of the world, all my misfortune has been destroyed. Now, freed from the curse, I beg you—savior of those who suffer in the world, giver of refuge—to permit me to depart, having received the blessing of your touch. I have taken shelter in you, O great yogi, supreme person, lord of the virtuous. Please grant me leave, O master of all worlds. By beholding you, O infallible one, I am instantly freed from Brahma’s punishment. Your very name purifies all who utter it or hear it—how much greater, then, is the blessing of your touch!” With Krishna’s permission, Sudarśana circled Him in reverence and ascended to heaven, his curse lifted. Nanda, too, was freed from distress, safe in Krishna’s protection. The cowherds of Vraja, witnessing this display of Krishna’s divine power, were filled with astonishment. Having completed their sacred observances, they joyfully returned home, recounting the miraculous events along the way. On another occasion, Govinda and Rama, both possessing wondrous strength, delighted themselves in the forest at night, surrounded by the women of Vraja. Adorned and anointed, wearing garlands and spotless garments, the gopīs sang sweetly to them, their hearts bound in deep friendship. As night descended, the stars and moon rose, and the air was perfumed with the scent of jasmine and the hum of intoxicated bees, carried by the cool breeze from the lotus ponds. Together they sang, weaving harmonies so enchanting that the minds and ears of all beings were blessed. So sweet was their song that the gopīs, overcome, grew faint, forgetting themselves; their garments slipped, their hair and garlands loosened. As they played and sang in delight, Shankhachuda, a Yaksha renowned as a follower of Kubera, approached. While Krishna and Rama watched, this kingly Yaksha saw the assembled women and, driven by desire, began to drive them northward, heedless of their cries. Hearing the gopīs’ desperate calls—“Krishna! Rama!”—the two brothers rushed after them, just as cowherds would pursue a thief who had stolen their cows. With voices of reassurance, Krishna and Rama cried, “Do not fear!” Armed with mighty clubs, they pursued the wicked Yaksha with great speed. Realizing the danger as the two approached like Death and Time themselves, the foolish Yaksha abandoned the women and fled, desperate to save his life. Govinda chased after him relentlessly, intent on seizing the precious jewel from his head, while Balarama stayed behind to protect the gopīs. Not far away, Krishna caught up to the Yaksha, struck him down with a powerful blow, and took both the crest jewel and its companion. Having slain Shankhachuda, Krishna brought the radiant jewel and, with affection, presented it to his elder brother as the women looked on. In this way, the Lord protected His devotees and delighted their hearts. And so it was that, as Krishna departed for the forest to graze the cows, the gopīs, their minds ever following Him, spent their days in sorrow, singing ceaselessly of His enchanting pastimes.