Sudarshana, freed from the punishment imposed by Brahma, approached Krishna with gratitude and reverence. “O infallible one,” he declared, “simply by seeing you, I am liberated at once. Your name, when spoken, instantly purifies all who hear it, as well as the speaker. How much greater, then, is the blessing when one is touched by your foot!” With Krishna’s permission, Sudarshana circumambulated him, offered obeisance, and ascended to heaven. Nanda, too, was released from his distress. The residents of Vraja, witnessing Krishna’s divine power, were filled with astonishment. After completing their observances, they joyfully returned home, recounting the wondrous events. One night, Govinda (Krishna) and Rama (Balarama), both mighty and radiant, wandered through the forest, surrounded by the women of Vraja. Adorned with garlands and anointed with fragrant oils, dressed in spotless garments, the women sang sweetly, bound to Krishna and Balarama by deep friendship. As night descended, the stars and moon rose, and the air was filled with the fragrance of jasmine and the hum of intoxicated bees, carried by breezes from lotus ponds. Together, they sang, weaving melodies that blessed the minds and ears of all beings. The harmonies flowed skillfully, enchanting everyone present. Hearing this song, the gopis became faint, losing awareness of themselves; their garments slipped, their hair and garlands loosened. As they played and sang, lost in delight, Shankhachuda, a renowned follower of Kubera, approached. Krishna and Rama watched as Shankhachuda, seeing the gathered women and hearing their cries, began to drive them northward without hesitation. The women cried out, “Krishna! Rama!” Witnessing their companions seized, Krishna and Rama rushed after them, like brothers pursuing a thief who has stolen their cows. Calling out, “Do not fear!” with voices full of reassurance, the two powerful brothers, armed with clubs, swiftly pursued the wicked Yaksha. Seeing Krishna and Rama approach, like Death and Time themselves, the foolish Yaksha abandoned the women and fled, desperate to preserve his life. Govinda chased him wherever he ran, intent on seizing the jewel from his head, while Balarama stayed behind to protect the women. Soon, Krishna caught up with Shankhachuda, and with his mighty fist struck him on the head, taking the crest jewel and its companion jewel. Having slain Shankhachuda, Krishna took the radiant jewel and, with affection, gave it to his elder brother, Balarama, while the women looked on. *** Shuka then spoke: The gopis, their minds following Krishna as he went to the forest to graze the cows, spent their days in sorrow, singing of Krishna’s pastimes. The gopis said: “Where Mukunda plays his flute, holding it to his lips with his left hand, his left cheek pressed against his arm, his brows dancing, and his delicate fingers tracing the path of melody, there he calls us.” The wives of the celestial beings, together with the Siddhas, listened in astonishment; bashful and surrendered to the arrows of love, they became bewildered and forgot their garments. “Ah, wondrous girls, listen: when the son of Nanda, the giver of delight to those who suffer, plays his flute, a necklace and a smile shine on his chest like a steady flash of lightning.” The bulls of Vraja, the deer, and the cows, captivated by the sound of the flute from afar, with mouthfuls of grass held between their teeth and ears attentive, sat motionless, as if painted, as if asleep. With peacock feathers, colored minerals, and leaves adorning him, Mukunda, imitating the garb of a wrestler, sometimes called the cows together with his friends. The rivers, their currents broken, carried by breezes bearing dust from his lotus feet, longed for him as we do, blessed by many merits; their arms, the waves, trembled with love, and their waters stilled. When he, the original person and lord of the mountain, was praised by his companions for his valor, he wandered the forest, calling the cows with his flute along the slopes. The forest creepers and trees, abundant with flowers and fruits, seemed to manifest Vishnu within themselves; their branches bowed with honey streams, their bodies thrilled with love, they produced blossoms. Adorned with a tilaka, a garland of forest flowers, divine fragrance, and honey-laden tulasi, when he played the flute, the bees, intoxicated, sang their desired song, honoring him. In the lakes, cranes, swans, and other birds, captivated by the beautiful song, approached Hari, their minds restrained, eyes closed, maintaining silence in reverent worship. With his companions, adorned with garlands and ornaments, on the slopes of the hills, Krishna delighted the cowherd women with the sound of his flute, joy arising and pervading the world. The cloud, cautious not to exceed its bounds, softly rumbled and, as a friend, showered flowers and provided shade, forming a canopy for him. Expert in tending various cows and skilled in flute playing, Krishna, when he placed the flute on his lips, brought forth melodies of his own creation. Hearing this, the lords of the gods—Indra, Shiva, Brahma, and others—together with the sages, bowed their necks and minds, bewildered, unable to discern the truth. With marks of flag, thunderbolt, lotus, and goad on their hooves, the cows, delighted by the flute, soothed the earth of Vraja, covering the wounds made by their hooves. As Krishna passed by, the gopis, overcome by his playful glances and the force of desire awakened in their hearts, wandered about, lost in confusion, unaware of their hair or garments. Sometimes, adorned with a garland fragrant with beloved tulasi, Krishna counted the cows, and, placing his arm on the shoulder of a dear companion, sang as he walked. Deceived in mind by the sound of his flute, the wives of Krishna followed him, their hearts absorbed in him; even the deer, like the cowherd women freed from attachment to their homes, followed him, drawn by the ocean of his virtues. Welcomed with garlands of jasmine and festive attire, surrounded by cowherds and cattle on the banks of the Yamuna, Nanda’s son delighted the hearts of his loving friends with playful pastimes. A gentle breeze, fragrant with sandalwood, blew to honor him; groups of celestial singers encircled him with music, song, and offerings, praising him. Affectionate to the cows of Vraja, honored by the elders along the path, Krishna led all the cattle home at the end of the day, his fame sung by the sound of his flute. With his face shining from exertion and his garland dusted with earth kicked up by hooves, Krishna came, wishing to grant blessings to his friends—this king who arose from Devaki’s womb. His eyes slightly rolling from joy, the garland-wearing giver of honor to his friends, his lips pale like the jujube fruit, his soft cheeks adorned by the splendor of golden earrings—such was the enchanting vision of Krishna as he returned home, beloved by all.