Akrura, the noble son of Śvaphalka and foremost among the Yadus, arrived at the home of the Yadavas, where he was greeted with warmth and honor. The eldest among them, smiling kindly, embraced Akrura as he bowed with folded hands, and led him inside, where every courtesy had been prepared in advance. There, he inquired with genuine concern about the troubles and hardships Kamsa had inflicted upon their relatives. Meanwhile, as Śuka recounted, Akrura’s thoughts were absorbed in contemplation of Krishna while he journeyed by chariot. Just as the sun reaches the western mountains at day’s end, Akrura arrived at Gokula. There, in the cowherd settlement, his eyes fell upon the footprints of Krishna—the very dust of whose feet is cherished upon the crowns of the world’s greatest rulers. The footprints were distinguished by sacred marks: the lotus, barleycorn, and goad. At the sight of those divine imprints, Akrura was overcome with joy and reverence. Tears welled in his eyes, his hair stood on end with love, and he descended swiftly from his chariot, moving among the footprints, exclaiming, “Ah! This is the dust of the Lord’s feet!” For embodied souls, the highest blessing is to let go of pride, fear, and sorrow—something first made possible by beholding, hearing, or otherwise coming into contact with the signs of Hari. As Akrura looked on, he saw Krishna and Rama in Vraja, returning from milking the cows. Krishna wore yellow garments, Rama blue; both had eyes like autumn lotuses. They were youthful—one dark, one fair—abodes of beauty, with broad arms, handsome faces, radiant forms, and the strength and gait of young elephants. Their feet, marked with banners, thunderbolts, goads, and lotuses, adorned the land of Vraja. Their glances were filled with compassion and gentle smiles. Noble and charming in their playful ways, they were adorned with garlands and forest wreaths. Their bodies glowed with sacred fragrances, freshly bathed and dressed in spotless clothes. These two, the primeval Purushas, the causes and lords of the world, had descended to earth as Balarama and Keshava, each manifesting their own divine portion. Their radiance dispelled the darkness in all directions, as if an emerald mountain and a silver one, both adorned with gold, had appeared together. Overwhelmed by love, Akrura leapt from his chariot and fell prostrate at the feet of Rama and Krishna. His heart overflowing with joy, tears streamed from his eyes and his body trembled with bliss; he was so enraptured that he could not even utter his own name. Krishna, marked by the chariot wheel upon his hand, drew near and, ever affectionate to those who bow before him, embraced Akrura. Balarama, too, full of wisdom, embraced him kindly, took his hand, and, together with Krishna, brought him into their home. After warmly inquiring about his well-being, they offered Akrura an honored seat, washed his feet as tradition required, and brought him a honeyed welcome drink. A cow was presented to him as a guest, and they respectfully massaged his weary limbs. Then, with devotion, the Lord offered Akrura abundant, pure food. Once he had eaten, Rama, the supreme knower of dharma, honored him again with fragrant scents and garlands used in sacred rites. Nanda, too, honored Akrura and asked, “How do you fare in that place without kindness, while Kamsa still lives, O Dāśārha? Are we not like cowherds under a cruel master? 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 with sincere words by Nanda, Akrura felt the fatigue of his journey melt away. Seated comfortably on a couch, honored by Rama and Krishna, Akrura felt all the desires he had cherished on his journey fulfilled. What could be 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, Krishna, the blessed son of Devakī, turned to his friends and inquired about Kamsa’s conduct and his latest intentions. Krishna 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.” Thus questioned by Krishna, 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. He recounted what Nārada had told Kamsa about the birth of Anakadundubhi’s son. Hearing Akrura’s words, Krishna and Balarama, destroyers of enemy heroes, smiled and informed Nanda, their father, of the king’s command. Nanda then instructed the cowherds, “Gather all the milk and dairy products. Collect gifts to present, and yoke the wagons. Tomorrow we will go to Mathurā, offer our produce to the king, and witness the great festival, for people from the countryside are said to be going.” Thus, Nanda announced these plans to the settlement. When the cowherd women heard this, their hearts were filled with distress, for Akrura had come to Vraja to take Rama and Krishna away to the city. Some women, afflicted and sorrowful, grew pale with sighing; others let their garments, bangles, and hair-braids slip loose in their grief. Some, wholly absorbed in thoughts of Krishna, abandoned their usual tasks, unaware of the world around them, as if lost in their own inner realm. Others, recalling Krishna’s loving smiles and words, were overwhelmed, the sweet phrases that had touched their hearts now leaving them bewildered. They remembered his graceful walk, his gestures, his affectionate smiles and glances, his jokes that dispelled all sorrow, and his playful deeds. Thinking of Mukunda, fearful and distressed at the thought of separation, they gathered together in groups, their faces wet with tears, their hearts fixed on Acyuta. The gopīs cried out, “O Creator, how merciless you are! After uniting embodied beings in friendship and love, you separate them before their desires are fulfilled, just as children’s playthings are taken away.