Akrura, as he journeyed toward Gokula, was filled with wonder and anticipation at the prospect of meeting Krishna. He reflected on the power and sanctity of Krishna’s touch, recalling that it was by that very touch that great souls like Kauśika (Viśvāmitra) and Bali, after offering their worship, had attained sovereignty over the three worlds. He remembered, too, how Krishna, in the playful pastimes of Vraja, would gently soothe the weariness of the cowherd women with the fragrant touch of His hand. Despite being sent as a messenger by the cruel Kaṁsa, Akrura found solace in knowing that Acyuta, the all-seeing Lord, would not treat him with enmity. For Krishna, the knower of all hearts and actions within and without, perceives everything with pure vision, untouched by prejudice. Akrura hoped that, falling at Krishna’s feet with folded hands, he might receive a gentle, compassionate, and smiling glance from the Lord—a glance that would instantly dissolve all his sins and fill him with fearless joy. He imagined the bliss of being embraced by Krishna, his dearest friend, kinsman, and only deity. In that embrace, he would be sanctified, and the bonds of karma that bound him would be broken. Akrura longed for the moment when, bowing humbly, he would feel the touch of Krishna’s limbs and hear His words. He thought that if, even after such an encounter, one remained unhonored by Krishna, then such a birth would be truly lamentable. Akrura knew that Krishna has no one whom He loves most, nor anyone He hates or neglects. Like the wish-fulfilling tree that gives to all who approach, Krishna bestows His favor upon His devotees without discrimination. He envisioned the scene: the eldest and foremost among the Yadus, Krishna, smiling and embracing him as he bowed with folded hands, leading him into the house where all honors had been prepared, and inquiring about the troubles Kaṁsa had inflicted upon their kin. Śuka continued the tale, saying that while Akrura contemplated Krishna in this way, he arrived at Gokula in his chariot, just as the sun reaches the western mountain at dusk. There, in the cowherd settlement, he beheld the footprints of the Lord—footprints adorned with auspicious marks like the lotus, barleycorn, and goad—prints so sacred that the rulers of all worlds carry their dust upon their crowns. Overcome with joy and reverence, Akrura’s eyes filled with tears, his hair stood on end, and he descended from his chariot to walk among those holy footprints, exclaiming with devotion, “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. Soon, Akrura saw Krishna and Balarama returning to Vraja after milking the cows. Krishna was clad in yellow garments, Balarama in blue, their eyes as lovely as autumn lotuses. Both were youthful—one dark, one fair—radiant with beauty, broad-armed, handsome of face, splendid in form, and moving with the strength and grace of young elephants. Their feet bore auspicious marks—banners, thunderbolts, goads, and lotuses—and their compassionate glances and smiles adorned all of Vraja. Noble and charming in their play, Krishna and Balarama were adorned with garlands and forest wreaths, their bodies fragrant with sacred unguents, freshly bathed, and dressed in spotless garments. These two, the primeval Purushas, the causes and lords of the world, had descended for the sake of the earth as Balarama and Keshava, each with their own portion. Their radiance dispelled the darkness in every direction—Krishna like an emerald mountain adorned with gold, Balarama like a silver one. Overwhelmed with affection, Akrura leapt from his chariot and fell prostrate at their feet. Tears streamed from his eyes, his body trembled with joy, and he was so moved that he could not even utter his own name. The Lord, Krishna, approached Akrura, the mark of the chariot wheel upon His hand, and embraced him with affection, for He is ever fond of those who bow before Him. Balarama, too, of great mind, embraced Akrura, took his hand, and together with Krishna led him into the house. There, after inquiring about his welfare and offering him a seat of honor, they washed his feet according to custom and brought him a honey-mixture as a welcome. Krishna presented Akrura with a cow and respectfully massaged his tired limbs, then offered him abundant, pure food with devotion. When Akrura had eaten, Balarama, the supreme knower of dharma, honored him further with scents and garlands used in sacrifice. Nanda, the chief of the cowherds, also honored Akrura and asked, “How are you faring in that place without kindness, while Kaṁsa still lives, O Dāśārha? Are we not like cowherds under a cruel master? That wicked one, who killed his own nephews as their mothers wailed in anguish—how could there be well-being for you and your people?” Thus honored and kindly questioned by Nanda, Akrura felt the fatigue of his journey melt away. Śuka continued: Seated comfortably on a couch, honored by Rama and Krishna, Akrura found all his cherished hopes fulfilled. For what could be unattainable when the Lord, the very abode of fortune, is pleased? Yet, those devoted to Him desire nothing at all. After the evening meal, Krishna, the Blessed One, son of Devaki, asked among His friends about Kaṁsa’s conduct and his latest intentions. He greeted Akrura warmly: “Welcome, dear and gentle Akrura! May all be well with you. Are your relatives and kin free from illness and misfortune?” He added, “How can I ask about our own welfare, when our family is afflicted and Kaṁsa, 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. Tell me, dear one, the reason for your coming.” Thus questioned, Akrura related everything—the enmity among the Yadus, Kaṁsa’s intent to kill Vasudeva, the message he bore as Kaṁsa’s messenger, and what Nārada had told Kaṁsa about the birth of Anakadundubhi’s son. Hearing Akrura’s words, Krishna and Balarama, destroyers of hostile heroes, smiled and informed Nanda of the king’s command. Nanda instructed the cowherds to gather all their milk and dairy products, collect gifts, and yoke the wagons. “Tomorrow we will go to Mathura, offer our produce to the king, and witness the great festival, for people from the countryside are said to be going,” he announced. When the cowherd women heard this, they were filled with sorrow, for they understood that Akrura had come to take Krishna and Balarama away to the city.