He has descended among the Sātvatas, bringing joy to the foremost gods who protect their realms. His fame spreads everywhere, and now the Lord dwells in Vraja, where the gods themselves sing of His all-auspicious deeds. As Akrura journeyed toward Vraja, his heart overflowed with anticipation. “Today, surely,” he thought, “I will see Him—the goal of the great, the teacher, the delight of the three worlds, a festival for the eyes, whose very form is the desired abode of Śrī. At dawn, I will behold Him with my own eyes.” He imagined the moment: as Krishna would descend from the chariot, he, Akrura, would at last attain the blessed feet that even yogis hold in their hearts. He would bow to those sacred feet, as would Krishna’s friends and the forest dwellers. Perhaps, Akrura hoped, the Lord would place His own lotus hand upon his head as he prostrated himself—a hand that grants fearlessness to those terrified by the serpent of Time and who seek shelter at His feet. He remembered how, by that very touch, Viśvāmitra and Bali, after their worship, had been granted lordship over the three worlds; or how, in playful affection, Krishna would remove the fatigue of the women of Vraja with His fragrant hand. Acyuta, the all-seeing Lord, would not look upon him, Akrura, with enmity—even though he was Kamsa’s messenger—for Krishna, the knower of all hearts, perceives with pure vision all that is done, within and without, by the mind. Perhaps, Akrura thought, as he fell at Krishna’s feet with folded hands, the Lord would look upon him with a gentle, compassionate smile. In that instant, all his sins would be destroyed, and he would be filled with fearless joy. Then, Akrura imagined, Krishna—his dearest friend, his kinsman, his only deity—would embrace him with His broad arms. In that very moment, he would be sanctified, and the bondage of karma would be dispelled. He reflected that, when he bowed and touched Krishna’s limbs, the Lord would speak to him. “If, though born as humans, we are not honored by Him, then such a birth is indeed to be lamented,” he thought. Yet, Akrura knew, Krishna has no one who is dearest, nor a best friend, nor anyone unloved, hated, or neglected. Like the wish-fulfilling tree, He gives to all who approach Him, bestowing special favor upon His devotees. As Akrura pondered these things, the eldest and foremost of the Yadus—Krishna—smiling, embraced him who had bowed with folded hands, led him into the house where all honors had been arranged, and inquired about the troubles Kamsa had caused among his relatives. Śuka continued: Thus, reflecting on Krishna, Akrura, the son of Śvaphalka, journeyed on his chariot and arrived at Gokula, just as the sun reaches the western mountain at day’s end. In the cowherd settlement, Akrura saw the footprints of the one whose dust is worn by all the rulers of the worlds upon their crowns—prints marked by symbols such as the lotus, barleycorn, and goad. At the sight, Akrura was filled with joy and reverent excitement; his eyes overflowed with tears and his hair stood on end from love. He leapt from the chariot, moving among the footprints, exclaiming, “Ah! This is the dust of the Lord’s feet!” He knew that for embodied beings, the greatest blessing is to abandon pride, fear, and sorrow—a state first achieved by seeing, hearing, or otherwise contacting the signs of Hari. Soon, Akrura saw Krishna and Balarama in Vraja, returning from cow-milking—Krishna in yellow garments, Balarama in blue, their eyes like autumn lotuses. They were in the bloom of youth, one dark and one fair, the very abodes of beauty, with broad arms, handsome faces, splendid forms, and the strength and gait of young elephants. These great souls, their feet marked by banners, thunderbolts, goads, and lotuses, adorned Vraja. Their glances were smiling and full of compassion. Noble and charming in their play, adorned with garlands and forest wreaths, their bodies anointed with sacred fragrances, bathed and clad in spotless garments, the two—Balarama and Keshava—were the primeval Purushas, causes and lords of the world, who had descended for the sake of the earth. Their own radiance dispelled the darkness in all directions, like an emerald mountain and a silver one adorned with gold. Overwhelmed with affection, Akrura swiftly leapt from the chariot and fell prostrate at the feet of Rama and Krishna. So overjoyed was he at the sight of the Lord, with tears streaming from his eyes and his body covered in goosebumps, that he could not even speak his own name. Krishna, whose hand bears the mark of the chariot wheel, approached him and embraced him, drawing him near with affection—for He is fond of those who bow before Him. Sankarshana, too, of great mind, embraced Akrura, took his hand in his own, and together with Krishna 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 the honey-mixture as a welcome gift. They presented a cow to their guest and respectfully massaged his tired limbs. The Lord then offered him abundant, pure food with devotion. When he had eaten, Rama, the supreme knower of dharma, with great affection, honored him further with scents and garlands used in sacrifice. Nanda, too, having duly honored Akrura, asked, “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 continued, “That wicked one who killed his own nephews, even as their mothers cried in anguish—how could there be well-being for you and your people, we wonder?” Thus honored and kindly questioned by Nanda, Akrura let go of the fatigue of his journey. Śuka said: Comfortably seated on a couch, honored by Rama and Krishna, Akrura attained all the desires he had cherished on the road. For what is unattainable when the Lord, the abode of fortune, is pleased? Yet, O King, those devoted to Him desire nothing at all. After the evening meal, Krishna, son of Devakī, inquired among His friends about Kamsa’s conduct and his latest intentions. The Blessed Lord said, “Dear one, gentle Akrura, welcome! May all be well with you. Is everything free from illness and misfortune among your relatives and kin?” “How can I ask about our own welfare, when our family is afflicted and Kamsa, our maternal uncle, rules over us and our people?” “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.” “By good fortune, today I see my own people, as I longed, O gentle one. Tell me, dear one, the reason for your coming.” Śuka said: Thus questioned by the Blessed Lord, Akrura described everything—the enmity among the Yadus, Kamsa’s intent to kill Vasudeva, and the message for which he himself had been sent as a messenger, including what Nārada had told Kamsa about the birth of Anakadundubhi’s son.