For embodied souls, the highest blessing is to set aside pride, fear, and sorrow—a state first awakened simply by seeing, hearing, or coming into contact with the sacred signs of Hari, the Supreme Lord. Such was the good fortune that befell Akrura as he journeyed to Vraja. As he arrived, Akrura beheld a wondrous sight: Krishna and Rama returning from the cow-milking. Krishna, clothed in yellow, and Balarama, clad in blue, their eyes shining like autumn lotuses, strolled through the pastures of Vraja. Youthful and radiant, one dark as a raincloud, the other fair as the moon, they were the very abodes of beauty. Their strong, broad arms and handsome faces shone with splendor; their forms were graceful and powerful, moving with the strength and majesty of young elephants. These two great souls, their feet marked with auspicious symbols—banners, thunderbolts, goads, and lotuses—adorned the land of Vraja. Their glances were gentle, smiling, and full of compassion, bringing joy wherever they looked. Playful and noble, they wore garlands and forest wreaths, their bodies anointed with fragrant oils, bathed, and dressed in spotless garments. These were not ordinary boys but the very primeval Purushas, the original causes and lords of the universe, descended to earth as Balarama and Keshava for the sake of the world. Their radiance dispelled darkness in all directions, just as an emerald and a silver mountain, both adorned with gold, would gleam side by side. Overcome with devotion, Akrura leapt from his chariot, rushing to fall prostrate at the feet of Rama and Krishna. Tears streamed from his eyes, his body thrilled with goosebumps, and his heart so full that he could not even utter his own name. Krishna, whose hand bore the mark of the chariot wheel, approached and embraced him with loving affection, for the Lord delights in those who bow before him. Balarama, too, of noble mind, embraced Akrura, took his hand, and, together with Krishna, led him into the house. There, after inquiring about his well-being and offering him an honored seat, the brothers washed his feet as tradition prescribed and presented him with a honey-mixture as a gesture of welcome. They gifted him a cow, massaged his weary limbs, and served him abundant, pure food with heartfelt devotion. When Akrura had eaten, Rama, the supreme knower of dharma, honored him further with fragrant scents and garlands used in sacred rites. Nanda, the chief of the cowherds, also honored Akrura and asked, “How are you faring in that place, which lacks 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 in anguish—how could there be well-being for you and your people?” Thus, comforted by Nanda’s sincere words and questions, Akrura felt the fatigue of his journey melt away. Seated comfortably on a couch, honored by Rama and Krishna, Akrura felt all his cherished wishes fulfilled. For when the Lord, the very abode of all fortune, is pleased, nothing remains unattainable—yet those devoted to him desire nothing at all. After the evening meal, Krishna, the son of Devaki, inquired among his friends about Kamsa’s actions and his latest intentions. He said to Akrura, “Dear one, gentle Akrura, welcome! May all be well with you. Is everything free from illness and misfortune among your 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. Tell me, dear one, the reason for your coming.” Thus prompted by Krishna, Akrura described everything: the enmity among the Yadus, Kamsa’s intent to kill Vasudeva, the message he himself had been sent to deliver, and what Narada had revealed to Kamsa about the birth of Vasudeva’s son. Hearing this, Krishna and Balarama, destroyers of enemy heroes, smiled and informed Nanda 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.” When this news spread, the cowherd women of Vraja were stricken with grief, for they understood that Akrura had come to take Rama and Krishna to the city. Some, hearts heavy, sighed so deeply that their faces grew pale; others let their garments, bangles, and hair fall loose in distraction. Many, lost in thoughts of Krishna, ceased all their daily tasks, oblivious to the world, as if absorbed in their own inner realm. Some remembered Krishna’s loving smiles and sweet words, their hearts bewildered by the memory of his charming phrases. Others recalled his graceful walk, his gestures, his affectionate glances and jokes that dispelled all sorrow, and his playful deeds. Thinking of Mukunda, fearful and distressed by impending separation, they gathered together in groups, their faces wet with tears, speaking with hearts fixed on Acyuta. They lamented, “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 snatched away. You showed us Mukunda’s face, framed by dark curls, 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. You are cruel, truly living up to the name Akrūra! You gave us sight, but now you take it away like a tyrant, for through you we saw the beauty of the enemy of Madhu, the perfection of all creation, in one place. “The son of Nanda, whose affection is fleeting, no longer looks upon us, though we are tormented by our own actions. Having left home, family, and husbands, we came to serve him, but now he has found new beloveds. Surely, for the women of that city, the night passed happily and their wishes came true, for they will drink in the face of the Lord of Vraja, as he enters, tasting the nectar of his sidelong, smiling glances.” Thus, the hearts of the people of Vraja were filled with longing and sorrow as the time of Krishna and Balarama’s departure drew near.