As the gods watched from their heavenly abodes, Acyuta—Krishna—seized Vyomāsura, the slayer of cattle, with His powerful arms. With divine strength, He subdued the wicked one, hurled him to the ground, and ended his life, much to the awe and relief of the celestial witnesses. Then, breaking open the entrance to the demon’s cave, Krishna released the cowherd boys who had been trapped inside. Though it was not without effort, He freed them, and both the gods above and the cowherds of Vraja praised Him with gratitude and reverence as He returned to His beloved home, Vraja. Thus concluded the thirty-seventh chapter of the sacred Śrīmad Bhāgavata Mahāpurāṇa, known as “The Slaying of Vyomāsura,” a scripture cherished by the paramahaṃsas. The story continues as Śuka describes the actions of Akrūra, the wise and devoted soul. That night, Akrūra remained in Mathurā, but as dawn broke, he mounted his chariot and set out along the road that led to Nanda’s Gokula. As the wheels turned and the morning light grew, Akrūra’s heart brimmed with devotion for the Lord with lotus eyes, and his mind was filled with wonder and humility. He pondered, “What good deed have I performed, what great austerity have I practiced, or what worthy gift have I given, that today I am to behold Keśava? Surely the vision of the Lord, famed throughout the worlds, is exceedingly rare—like the chanting of Brahman’s name for one born as a śūdra, attached to worldly pleasures. May it not be that even for someone as fallen as myself, the sight of Acyuta is denied; sometimes, even one swept away by the current of Time finds a way to cross over.” Akrūra’s heart swelled with gratitude and hope. “Today, my misfortune is destroyed, and my very life has found its purpose, for I shall bow at the lotus feet of the Lord—those same feet upon which yogis fix their meditation. Indeed, Kaṁsa has shown me the greatest favor, for I am to see the lotus feet of Hari, whose nails’ radiance once dispelled an ancient, impenetrable darkness. Those feet, worshipped by Brahmā, Śiva, the gods, the goddess Śrī, sages, and the Sātvatas, wander the forests of Vraja among the cows, marked with the saffron of the gopīs’ love.” He continued, “Surely I shall behold Mukunda’s face, with its beautiful cheeks and nose, its gentle smile, its glancing, reddish lotus eyes, framed by curling locks—around which even the deer seem to circumambulate in reverence. Perhaps today my eyes will at last attain their true purpose: to see Viṣṇu Himself, who has taken human form by His own will to relieve the earth’s burden, who is the very embodiment of beauty.” Akrūra’s thoughts were filled with awe. “He whom I am to see, though untouched by ego and duality, dispels the darkness of ignorance by His radiance; by His māyā, He is perceived within every being, through their life, senses, and intellect. His words, filled with auspicious qualities, deeds, and birth, destroy all inauspiciousness, enliven, purify, and sanctify the world—those who remain indifferent to them are like beautiful corpses, alive only in appearance.” “He has descended in the lineage of the Sātvatas, bringing joy to the greatest gods, spreading His fame, and dwelling in Vraja, where the gods themselves sing of His all-auspicious deeds. Today, surely, I shall see Him—the goal of the great, the teacher, the delight of the three worlds, a festival for the eyes, bearing a form that is the cherished abode of Śrī, with my own eyes at dawn.” Akrūra imagined the moment: “When He descends from the chariot along with the Lord, I shall obtain for myself the feet that even yogis hold in their hearts. I shall bow low, as will His friends and the dwellers of the forest. Perhaps the Lord will place His own lotus hand upon my head as I fall at His feet, granting fearlessness to those terrified by the serpent of Time, to those who seek His refuge.” He remembered, “It is by that touch that Kauśika (Viśvāmitra) and Bali, after worshipping Him, attained lordship over the three worlds; or, in playful kindness, He removed the fatigue of the women of Vraja with His fragrant hand. Acyuta, who sees all, will not regard me with enmity, even though I am Kaṁsa’s messenger; for He, the knower of all, sees clearly all that is done, within and without, by the mind.” Akrūra’s heart overflowed with hope. “Perhaps He will look upon me, fallen at His feet with folded hands, with a gentle, smiling, compassionate gaze. In that instant, all my sins will be destroyed, and I shall know great, fearless joy. Then, the best of friends, my kinsman, my only deity, will embrace me with His broad arms; in that moment, He will sanctify me, and my bondage born of karma will be dispelled.” “With folded hands, bowing low, when I attain the touch of His limbs, He will speak to me. If, though born as humans, we are not honored by Him, such a birth is truly to be lamented. He has no dearest, no best friend, nor anyone unloved, hated, or neglected; yet, like the wish-fulfilling tree, He gives to those who approach Him, favoring His devotees.” It was as if Akrūra could already see the moment: the eldest, foremost among the Yadus, smiling, would embrace him, who bowed with folded hands, and lead him into the house where all honors had been prepared, asking after the troubles that Kaṁsa had brought upon his relatives. Śuka continued: As Akrūra reflected in this way, his mind absorbed in Krishna, the son of Śvaphalka arrived at Gokula by chariot, just as the sun reaches the western mountain at day’s end. In the cowherd settlement, he saw the sacred footprints of the Lord—whose dust is cherished by the rulers of all worlds and worn upon their crowns—distinguished by marks of the lotus, barleycorn, and goad. At this sight, joy and reverence flooded Akrūra’s heart. His eyes welled with tears, his hair stood on end in ecstasy, and, descending swiftly from his chariot, he moved among the footprints, exclaiming, “Ah! This is the dust of the Lord’s feet!” For embodied beings, the greatest blessing is to abandon pride, fear, and sorrow, and this is first achieved by seeing, hearing, or otherwise coming into contact with the signs of Hari. Then Akrūra saw Krishna and Rama in Vraja, returning from the milking of the cows. Krishna was clad in yellow, Rama in blue, their eyes like autumn lotuses—youthful, beautiful, one dark and one fair, with broad arms, handsome faces, splendid forms, and the strength and gait of young elephants. Their feet, marked by banners, thunderbolts, goads, and lotuses, adorned Vraja as they walked, their glances filled with smiling compassion. Charming in play, adorned with forest garlands and wreaths, their bodies anointed with sacred fragrances, bathed, and clothed in spotless garments, the two primeval Purushas—the causes and lords of the world—had descended for the sake of the earth, as Balarama and Keshava, with their own divine portions. Their radiance dispelled the darkness in all directions, Krishna shining like an emerald mountain and Balarama like a silver one adorned with gold. Overwhelmed with love and devotion, Akrūra leapt from his chariot and fell prostrate at the feet of Rama and Krishna. So great was his joy at seeing the Lord that his eyes streamed with tears, his hair stood on end, and he could not even utter his own name. The Lord, marked by the chariot wheel upon His hand, approached Akrūra, embraced him with affection, and drew him close, for He is ever fond of those who bow before Him. Sankarshana, too, of great mind, embraced Akrūra, took his hand, and, together with Krishna, led him into the house, where all honors awaited.