As Akrūra journeyed toward his destination, his heart brimmed with hope and reverence. He thought, “Perhaps today my eyes will finally attain the supreme fruit—the direct sight of Lord Viṣṇu Himself, who, by His own will, has assumed a human form to relieve the earth’s burden. He is the very abode of all beauty.” He reflected further, “The One whom I am about to behold, though untouched by ego and duality, dispels the darkness of ignorance simply by His own radiance. By His divine power, He is perceived in the homes of all living beings—through their very life, their senses, and their intellect.” Akrūra’s mind dwelled on the power of the Lord’s presence: “His words, filled with auspicious qualities, His deeds, and His wondrous birth, destroy all inauspiciousness. They enliven, purify, and sanctify the world. Those who remain indifferent to such words, though beautiful in form, are as lifeless as corpses.” He rejoiced, “The Lord has truly descended in the lineage of the Sātvatas, bringing joy to the best of the gods, who guard their own realms. Spreading His fame, He dwells in Vraja, where the gods themselves sing of His all-auspicious deeds.” Akrūra’s anticipation grew. “Today, surely, I shall see Him—the goal of the great, the supreme teacher, the delight of all three worlds, a festival for the eyes, bearing a form that is the cherished abode of Śrī. I shall behold Him with my very own eyes at the break of dawn.” He imagined the blessed moment: “When He descends from the chariot with the Lord, I shall obtain for myself the dust of His feet—those very feet that even great yogis hold in their minds. I will bow to them, as will His friends and the dwellers of the forest.” Akrūra’s longing deepened: “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 and seeking refuge.” He remembered: “By that very touch, Kauśika Viśvāmitra and Bali, having offered worship, attained lordship over the three worlds. Or, in play, He removed the fatigue of the women of Vraja with the touch of His fragrant hand.” He reassured himself, “Acyuta, who sees all, will not regard me with enmity, even though I am Kamsa’s messenger. For He, the knower of all, perceives with pure vision everything done, within and without, by the mind.” Akrūra hoped, “Perhaps He will look upon me, fallen at His feet with folded hands, with a gentle, smiling, compassionate gaze. At once, all my sins will be destroyed, and I shall be filled with great, fearless joy.” He yearned, “Then, the best of friends, my kinsman, my only deity, will embrace me with His broad arms. In that very moment, He will sanctify me, and my bondage, born of karma, will be dispelled.” He continued, “When I, bowing with folded hands, attain the touch of His limbs, He, O Akrūra, will speak to me. But if, though born as a human, one is not honored by Him, the birth of such a one is truly to be condemned.” Akrūra pondered the Lord’s impartiality: “He has no one as dearest, no best friend, nor anyone unloved, hated, or neglected. And yet, just as the wish-fulfilling tree gives to those who approach it, so does He favor His devotees.” He remembered stories of the Lord’s kindness: “The eldest, the foremost among the Yadus, smiling, embraced one who had bowed with folded hands, led him into the house where all honors had been arranged, and inquired about the troubles caused by Kamsa among his relatives.” Thus, as Akrūra’s mind dwelled on Kṛṣṇa, the son of Śvaphalka, he journeyed onward. As the sun reaches the western mountain at day’s end, so too did Akrūra arrive at Gokula, riding in his chariot. Upon entering the cowherd settlement, his eyes fell upon the sacred footprints of the Lord, whose dust is worn by all rulers of the worlds upon their crowns. These footprints were distinguished by auspicious marks—lotus, barleycorn, and goad. Overwhelmed with joy and reverent excitement at this sight, Akrūra’s eyes filled with tears, his hair stood on end from love, and he descended from his chariot, moving among the footprints. He exclaimed, “Ah! This is the dust of the Lord’s feet!” He reflected, “For embodied beings, the greatest benefit is to abandon pride, fear, and sorrow—and this is first achieved by seeing, hearing, and other forms of contact with the signs of Hari.” Then, Akrūra saw Kṛṣṇa and Rāma in Vraja, returning from milking the cows. Kṛṣṇa wore yellow garments, Rāma blue; their eyes were like autumn lotuses. They were both youthful—one dark, one fair—abodes of beauty, with broad arms, handsome faces, splendid forms, and the strength and gait of young elephants. The two great souls, with feet marked by banners, thunderbolts, goads, and lotuses, adorned Vraja. Their glances were smiling and full of compassion. Noble and charming in play, they were adorned with garlands and forest wreaths, their bodies anointed with sacred fragrances, bathed, and clad in spotless garments. The two, the primeval Purushas, the causes and lords of the world, had descended for the sake of the earth, as Balarāma and Keśava, with their own portions. O King, they dispelled the darkness in all directions with their own radiance, just as an emerald mountain and a silver one adorned with gold would shine. Akrūra, overwhelmed with affection, swiftly leapt from his chariot and fell prostrate at the feet of Rāma and Kṛṣṇa. Overjoyed at the sight of the Lord, his eyes streaming with tears and his body covered with goosebumps, he was so eager that he could not even speak his own name. The Lord, approaching him, marked by the chariot wheel upon His hand, embraced him, drawing him near with affection, for He cherishes those who bow before Him. Sankarṣaṇa, of great mind, also embraced Akrūra, took his hand in his own, and together with His brother, led him into the house. After asking about his welfare and offering him a seat of honor, they washed his feet according to custom and brought him the honey-mixture as a welcome gift. They presented a cow to their guest and respectfully massaged his tired limbs. The Lord offered him abundant, pure food with devotion. When he had eaten, Rāma, the supreme knower of dharma, with great affection, further honored him with scents and garlands used in sacrifice. Nanda, having duly honored Akrūra, inquired, “How are you faring in this place without kindness, while Kamsa still lives, O Dāśārha? Are we not like cowherds under a cruel master?” He lamented, “That wicked one who killed his own nephews, even as their mothers cried out in anguish—how could there be well-being for you and your people, we wonder?” Thus, honored by Nanda’s sincere words and kindly questioned, Akrūra let go of the fatigue of his journey. Seated comfortably on a couch, honored by Rāma and Kṛṣṇa, Akrūra felt that all the desires he had cherished on the road had been fulfilled. For what is unattainable when the Lord, the very abode of fortune, is pleased? Yet, O King, those devoted to Him desire nothing at all. After the evening meal, the Blessed One, son of Devakī, inquired among His friends about Kamsa’s conduct and his latest intentions. The Blessed Lord said, “Dear one, gentle Akrūra, welcome! May all be well with you. Is everything free from illness and misfortune among your relatives and kin?” He added, “How can I ask about our own welfare, when our family is afflicted and Kamsa, our maternal uncle, rules over us and our people?” With sorrow, He reflected, “Alas, so much suffering befell my noble parents because of us—on our account, their sons were killed, and on our account, they were imprisoned.