On the banks of the sacred Sarasvatī, after drinking its pure waters and observing their vows, the blessed Nanda, Sunanda, and their companions settled in for the night. The tranquil forest, however, concealed a lurking danger. As Nanda lay sleeping, a massive, ravenously hungry serpent happened upon them and seized him in its coils. Awakening in terror, Nanda cried out, “Krishna! Krishna! This is dreadful! Father, a snake is swallowing me—save me! I have taken refuge in you!” His desperate cries roused the other cowherds, who sprang up in alarm. Seeing their beloved Nanda ensnared, they rushed forward, striking at the serpent with sticks, hoping to drive it off. But even as they beat it with burning firebrands, the serpent would not release its grip. Then Krishna, the supreme master of the Sātvatas, calmly approached. With divine compassion, he touched the serpent with his lotus feet. In that instant, the serpent’s wickedness was destroyed. The dreadful form melted away, and before them stood a radiant being, honored among the Vidyādharas, adorned with a golden garland, shining with celestial splendor. Krishna, Hrishikesha, gazed at him and inquired, “Who are you, who now shines so wondrously? How did you come to be trapped in such a lowly state?” The being bowed deeply and replied, “I am Sudarśana, a Vidyādhara, famed for beauty and wealth, who once soared the skies in my aerial chariot. But in my pride, I mocked the sages Virupa and Angirasa for their appearance. They, laughing, cursed me for my arrogance, and by my own fault, I was cast into this serpent birth. “Yet, their curse was truly a blessing. For by the touch of your holy feet, O teacher of the world, all my misfortune has vanished. Freed from that curse, I now beg your permission to depart, having received the blessing of your touch. I take refuge in you, O great yogi, supreme person, lord of the virtuous—please grant me leave, O master of all worlds. “Instantly freed from Brahma’s punishment by your sight, O infallible one, I am purified—your very name sanctifies all who hear it, how much more so the touch of your foot.” With Krishna’s gracious permission, Sudarśana circled him in reverence and ascended to the heavens, his curse lifted. Nanda, too, was released from his ordeal. The people of Vraja, awestruck by Krishna’s divine power, completed their observances by the river and returned home, hearts brimming with joy, retelling the wondrous events. Some time later, Govinda and his brother Rama, both of immense strength, delighted in the forest at night, surrounded by the women of Vraja. Adorned and anointed, garlanded and clad in spotless garments, the two brothers were serenaded by the sweet voices of their companions, bound to them in deep friendship. The night blossomed: stars and moon rose, the air grew fragrant with jasmine and the hum of intoxicated bees, the breeze carrying scents from lotus-laden ponds. Together, Krishna and the women sang, weaving melodies that blessed every heart and ear, their harmonies skillful and enchanting. The gopis, overwhelmed by the music, grew faint and forgetful of themselves—their garments slipped, hair and garlands loosened, lost in delight. In this moment of joy, Shankhachuda, a Yaksha famed as Kubera’s follower, approached. Seeing the women gathered and vulnerable, he boldly began to drive them northward, heedless of Krishna and Rama’s presence. The gopis cried out, “Krishna! Rama!” Seeing their companions seized, Krishna and Rama rushed after the Yaksha, like brothers pursuing a thief who has stolen their cows. Calling out, “Do not fear!” with reassuring voices, the powerful brothers, armed with clubs, chased the wicked Yaksha. Spotting their approach, terrible as Death and Time themselves, Shankhachuda abandoned the women and fled, desperate to save his life. Govinda pursued him relentlessly, intent on seizing the precious jewel from his head, while Balarama stayed behind to protect the women. Catching up with the fleeing Yaksha, Krishna struck him down with his mighty fist, taking both the crest jewel and its companion. Then, in the presence of the women, he lovingly presented the radiant jewel to his elder brother Balarama. Meanwhile, as days passed, the gopis spent their time in longing, their minds following Krishna as he led the cows to pasture. In sorrow, they sang of Krishna’s pastimes, their hearts yearning for him. They spoke among themselves: “Where Mukunda plays his flute, pressing it to his lips with his left hand, his left cheek against his arm, his brows dancing, his delicate fingers tracing the melody—there he calls us.” Even the wives of the gods and the Siddhas, listening from afar, were astonished. Overcome by love’s arrows, they grew bashful and bewildered, forgetting even their garments. The gopis continued: “O friends, when the son of Nanda, who brings delight to the suffering, plays his flute, a necklace and a smile shine on his chest like a steady lightning flash. The bulls of Vraja, the deer, and the cows, enchanted by the distant music, stand motionless, mouths full, ears attentive, as if painted—lost in the sound. “Adorned with peacock feathers, colored minerals, and leaves, sometimes dressed as a wrestler, Mukunda and the cowherd boys call the cows. The rivers, carried by breezes bearing dust from his lotus feet, long for him as we do, their waters stilled, trembling with love. “When he, the primordial person, praised by his friends for his valor, wanders the forest slopes and calls the cows with his flute, the forest creepers and trees burst into blossoms, their branches bowed with honey, as if manifesting Vishnu within themselves, thrilled with love. “Adorned with tilaka, garlands of forest flowers, fragrant and honey-laden tulasi, when he plays the flute, the intoxicated bees sing in harmony, honoring him. Even the cranes, swans, and birds in the lakes, captivated by his beautiful song, approach Hari, eyes closed in silent worship, their minds stilled in devotion.” Thus, the gopis’ hearts overflowed with love and longing, as all of nature—animals, trees, rivers, and even the gods—was enchanted by Krishna’s presence and the divine music of his flute.