As the serpent, coiled tightly around Nanda, was being burned by firebrands, it still did not release him. At that moment, the Lord Himself—the master of the Sātvatas—approached. With compassion, Krishna touched the serpent with His divine foot. Instantly, at the touch of the glorious Lord’s feet, all the serpent’s evil was destroyed. Abandoning its snake form, it assumed a radiant body, honored by the Vidyādharas. Now standing before Krishna, bowing low, the Vidyādhara shone with a brilliant form, adorned with a golden garland. Krishna, the master of the senses, questioned him gently, “Who are you, whose splendor and wondrous appearance shine so brightly? By what fate were you forced into this lowly condition?” The Vidyādhara replied with humility, “O Lord, I am Sudarśana, a Vidyādhara known for my beauty and wealth, who traveled the directions in my aerial chariot. Once, filled with pride, I mocked the sages Virupa and Angirasa. In their wisdom, they laughed at me and, by their curse—rightly earned through my own fault—I was cast into this birth as a serpent. Yet, their curse, born of compassion, was truly for my good. For now, by the touch of your foot, O teacher of the world, all my misfortune is destroyed. “Freed from their curse, I beseech you, O remover of fear for the suffering, O refuge of all, to permit me to depart, blessed by 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 and their rulers. By seeing you, O infallible one, I am instantly freed from Brahma’s punishment. Your very name purifies all who utter or hear it—how much greater, then, is the blessing of your touch!” Thus, having received Krishna’s permission, Sudarśana circled the Lord in reverence, bowed low, and ascended to heaven, freed at last. Nanda was released from his distress. Witnessing Krishna’s divine power, the residents of Vraja were filled with wonder. Their observance complete, they returned joyfully to Vraja, recounting all that had transpired. Later, Govinda and Balarama, both of wondrous strength, spent a night enjoying themselves in the forest, surrounded by the women of Vraja. Adorned and anointed, garlanded and dressed in spotless garments, they were serenaded by the sweet voices of the gopis, bound to them in deep friendship. As night fell, with the stars and moon rising, the air was filled with the fragrance of jasmine and the hum of intoxicated bees, carried by breezes from the lotus ponds. Together, Krishna, Balarama, and the gopis sang, weaving melodies so enchanting that all who heard them felt their minds and hearts blessed. The gopis, overcome by the music, became faint with love, their garments slipping and their hair and garlands loosening as they lost awareness of themselves. As they played and sang in delight, Shankhachuda, a Yaksha renowned as a follower of Kubera, approached. Seeing the women gathered, he began to drive them northward, heedless of their cries. Krishna and Balarama, hearing the gopis call out, “Krishna! Rama!” and seeing their friends seized, rushed after the Yaksha, just as brothers would pursue a thief who had stolen their cows. Calling out, “Do not fear!” the two mighty brothers, armed with clubs, raced after the wicked Yaksha. Seeing Krishna and Balarama approach like Death and Time themselves, the foolish Yaksha abandoned the women and fled, desperate to save his life. Govinda chased him relentlessly, intent on seizing the jewel from his head, while Balarama stayed behind to protect the gopis. Soon, Krishna caught up to Shankhachuda and, with a powerful blow of his fist, struck down the Yaksha, taking the radiant crest jewel and its companion gem. Having slain Shankhachuda, Krishna lovingly presented the shining jewel to his elder brother as the women looked on. Meanwhile, as time passed, the gopis found themselves pining for Krishna. Shuka said: Each day, as Krishna went to the forest to graze the cows, the gopis’ minds followed him, and they spent their days in sorrow, singing of his pastimes. The gopis sang, “Where Mukunda plays his flute, holding it to his lips with his left hand, his left cheek pressed against his left arm, his brows dancing, and his delicate fingers tracing the melody—there he calls to us. The wives of the gods, together with the Siddhas, are astonished as they listen; bashful, their minds are struck by the arrows of love, and they become bewildered, forgetting even their garments. “O friends, listen! When Nanda’s son, the giver of delight to the suffering, plays the flute, a necklace and a smile shine on his chest like a steady lightning flash. The bulls, deer, and cows of Vraja, captivated by the distant sound of his flute, stand motionless, with mouthfuls of grass between their teeth and ears attentive, as if painted. “Adorned with peacock feathers, colored minerals, and leaves, dressed like a wrestler, Mukunda, with the cowherd boys, calls the cows. The rivers, their currents stilled by the breeze carrying dust from his lotus feet, long for him as we do, their waters trembling with love. When Krishna, the original person, is praised by his companions for his valor, he wanders the mountain slopes, calling the cows with his flute. “The forest creepers and trees, abundant with flowers and fruits, seem to manifest Vishnu within themselves; their branches bow with honey streams, their bodies thrilled with love, and they burst into blossoms. Adorned with tilaka, a garland of forest flowers, divine fragrance, and honey-laden tulasi, when he plays the flute, the intoxicated bees sing their song, honoring him. “In the lakes, cranes, swans, and other birds, their minds captivated by the beautiful song, approach Hari, eyes closed, silent, worshiping him. On the hillsides, adorned with garlands and ornaments, Krishna delights the cowherd women with the sound of his flute, bringing joy to the world. The clouds, careful not to outdo him, softly rumble and, as friends, shower flowers and provide shade, forming a canopy for him. “Skilled in caring for the cows and playing the flute, your son creates new melodies as he lifts the flute to his lips. Hearing this music, the lords of the gods—Indra, Shiva, Brahma—and the sages all bow their heads and minds, bewildered and unable to fathom his greatness.” Thus, the gopis, their hearts filled with longing, sang of Krishna’s wondrous deeds, their minds ever fixed on the beloved Lord of Vraja.