Śuka continued: As Akrura journeyed, his mind absorbed in thoughts of Krishna, the son of Śvaphalka, he at last arrived at Gokula in his chariot, much like the sun reaching the western mountains at dusk, O King. Entering the cowherd settlement, Akrura beheld on the earth the footprints of the One whose dust adorns the crowns of all the rulers of the worlds. These footprints bore the unmistakable marks of the lotus, barleycorn, and goad. At this sight, his heart overflowed with joy and reverence. Tears filled his eyes, his hair stood on end from love, and with trembling steps he descended from his chariot, moving among those sacred marks, exclaiming in awe, “Ah! These are the dust of the Lord’s feet!” For all embodied beings, the greatest blessing is to abandon pride, fear, and sorrow—an attainment that begins with seeing, hearing, or coming into contact with the signs of Hari. As Akrura looked on, he saw Krishna and Rama in Vraja, returning from the cow-milking. Krishna was clad in yellow, Rama in blue; their eyes shone like autumn lotuses. The two 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, graced the land of Vraja. Their glances were gentle, smiling, and full of compassion. Noble and charming in their play, they were adorned with garlands and forest wreaths. Their bodies, anointed with sacred fragrances, had been bathed and wrapped in spotless garments. These two—Balarama and Keshava—were the primeval Purushas, the causes and lords of the world, descended for the sake of the earth, each manifesting with his own portion. Their radiance dispelled the darkness in all directions, as if an emerald mountain and a silver one adorned with gold had appeared. Overwhelmed with affection, Akrura leapt from his chariot and fell prostrate at their feet. His eyes streamed with tears and his body trembled with joy; so overcome was he that he could not even utter his own name, O King. The Lord, Krishna, approached him, his hand marked by the chariot wheel, and embraced Akrura affectionately, for he is always pleased with those who bow before him. Sankarshana, Balarama, with a great and noble mind, also embraced Akrura, took his hand, and, together with Krishna, led him into the house. 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 gesture of welcome. They presented him with a cow, respectfully massaged his tired limbs, and offered him abundant, pure food with devotion. When he had eaten, Rama, the supreme knower of dharma, honored him again with scents and garlands used in sacred rites. Nanda, having duly honored Akrura, asked, “How do you fare in that place where there is so little kindness, while wicked Kamsa still lives, O Dāśārha? Are we not like cowherds under a cruel master? That evil one, who killed his own nephews as their mothers cried in anguish—how can 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. Seated comfortably on a couch, honored by Rama and Krishna, Akrura now saw all his cherished desires fulfilled. Truly, O King, what is unattainable when the Lord, the abode of fortune, is pleased? Yet, those devoted to Him desire nothing at all. After the evening meal, the Blessed One, Krishna, son of Devaki, inquired among his friends about Kamsa’s conduct and his latest intentions. Krishna said, “Dear Akrura, gentle one, 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, still rules over us? 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 Akrura, the reason for your coming.” Thus questioned by the Lord, Akrura described everything: the enmity among the Yadus, Kamsa’s intent to kill Vasudeva, and the message for which he had been sent as a messenger. He also related 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 instructed the cowherds, “Gather all the milk and dairy products. Collect gifts to present, 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.” Thus Nanda, the chief cowherd, announced in his settlement. When the cowherd women heard this, they were stricken with distress, for Akrura had come to take Rama and Krishna to the city. Some, their hearts afflicted, became pale from sighing; others let their garments, bangles, and hair-braids slip loose. Some, lost in thoughts of Krishna, ceased their usual activities, unaware of the world around them, as if drawn into their own inner realm. Others, recalling Krishna’s loving smiles and words, were overwhelmed; the charming phrases that had touched their hearts left them bewildered. They remembered his graceful walk, his gestures, his affectionate smiles and glances, his jokes that dispelled sorrow, and his playful deeds. Thinking of Mukunda, fearful and distressed by the thought of separation, they gathered in groups, their faces wet with tears, and spoke with their hearts fixed on Acyuta. The gopīs said, “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. You showed us Mukunda’s face, framed by dark curls, with lovely cheeks and a raised nose, beautiful with a hint of a smile that dispels sorrow—then you make him distant from us; this is not right.