With the blessings of the descendant of Dasarha, Sudarshana, after respectfully circling him and offering obeisance, ascended to heaven. Nanda, meanwhile, was freed from his distress. The residents of Vraja, having witnessed Krishna’s divine power, were astonished and filled with wonder. Their observances completed, they joyfully returned home, recounting the miraculous events to each other. One night, Govinda and Rama, both endowed with extraordinary strength, wandered in the forest, delighting in the company of the women of Vraja. Adorned with garlands, anointed with fragrant oils, and clad in spotless garments, the women sang sweetly to Krishna and Balarama, bound to them by deep friendship. As night descended and the stars and moon arose, the air became fragrant with jasmine, and intoxicated bees, carried by the breeze from lotus ponds, filled the atmosphere. Together, they sang, weaving melodies that blessed the minds and ears of all living beings. So enchanting was their song that the gopis became faint, losing awareness of themselves; their garments slipped and their hair and garlands loosened. As they played and sang, immersed in delight, Shankhachuda, a follower of Kubera, suddenly approached. Seeing the women gathered and crying out, Shankhachuda began to drive them northward without hesitation, while Krishna and Rama watched. The women cried out, “Krishna! Rama!” and seeing their companions seized, Krishna and Rama rushed after them, just as brothers would pursue a thief who had 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. As Krishna and Rama approached like Death and Time, Shankhachuda, frightened, abandoned the women and fled to save his life. Govinda chased him wherever he ran, intent on seizing the jewel from his head, while Balarama stayed behind to protect the women. Not far off, Krishna caught up to Shankhachuda, struck his head with his fist, and took the crest jewel as well as its companion jewel. Having slain Shankhachuda, Krishna took the radiant jewel and, with affection, gave it to his elder brother, Balarama, as the women watched. Later, Shuka 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. They reminisced: “Where Mukunda plays the flute, holding it to his lips with his left hand, his left cheek pressed against his arm, his brows dancing, his delicate fingers tracing the path—there he calls us.” The wives of the celestial beings, along with the Siddhas, were astonished as they listened; bashful, their minds surrendered to the arrows of love, they became bewildered and forgot their garments. The gopis marveled: “O wondrous girls, when the son of Nanda, the giver of delight to the suffering, plays the flute, a necklace and a smile shine on his chest like a steady lightning flash.” In groups, the bulls of Vraja, the deer, and the cows, their minds captivated by the sound of the flute from afar, with mouthfuls held between their teeth and ears attentive, sat as if painted—motionless and asleep. With peacock feathers, colored minerals, and leaves adorning him, imitating the garb of a wrestler, Mukunda, together with the cowherd boys, called the cows. The rivers, their currents broken, carried by breezes bearing dust from Krishna’s lotus feet, longed for him as the gopis did. Blessed by many merits, their waters stilled, their arms trembling with love. When Krishna, the original person, praised by his companions for his valor, wandered the forest and called the cows with his flute along the mountain slopes, the forest creepers and trees, abundant with flowers and fruits, seemed to manifest Vishnu within themselves. Their branches bowed with streams of honey, their bodies thrilled with love, they produced blossoms. Adorned with a tilaka, a garland of forest flowers, divine fragrance, and honey-laden tulasi, when Krishna played the flute, the bees, intoxicated, sang their desired song in honor of him. In the lakes, cranes, swans, and birds, their minds captivated by the beautiful song, approached Hari, their minds restrained, eyes closed, maintaining silence as they worshiped him. 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, spreading joy throughout the world. The cloud, cautious not to exceed its bounds, softly rumbled, showered flowers, and provided shade, forming a canopy for Krishna as a friend. Expert in tending various cows and skilled in flute playing, Krishna brought forth melodies of his own creation when he placed the flute on his lips. Hearing these melodies, the lords of the gods—Indra, Shiva, Brahma, and others—together with the sages, bowed their necks and minds, becoming bewildered, unable to discern the truth. With the 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, unaware of whether their hair or garments were in disarray, lost in confusion. Sometimes, adorned with a garland fragrant with tulasi, Krishna counted the cows, placing his arm on the shoulder of a dear companion and singing 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, favorable and 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 and honored by the elders along the path, Krishna led all the cattle home at day's end, his fame sung by the sound of his flute. The beauty of his face shone from exertion, his garland dusted with the earth kicked up by hooves, as he came, wishing to grant blessings to his friends—this king who arose from Devaki’s womb. His eyes rolled slightly 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. The lord of the Yadus, sporting among the king of elephants, came at day's end like the lord of the night; his face radiant with joy as he approached the village, relieving the cows of Vraja from the day's heat.