Honored with heartfelt words by Nanda, Akrura felt his journey’s fatigue dissolve, soothed by the warmth of his hosts. Seated comfortably on a soft couch, and treated with reverence by both Balarāma and Kṛṣṇa, Akrura found all his hopes fulfilled—every wish he had cherished on the road was granted in their presence. Indeed, what could be unattainable when the Lord Himself, the very abode of fortune, is pleased? Yet, O King, those devoted to Him desire nothing, for their hearts are already full. That evening, after the meal, the Blessed One, son of Devakī, inquired among His friends about Kamsa’s conduct and his latest intentions. With gentle affection, Kṛṣṇa addressed Akrura: “Dear one, gentle Akrura, welcome! May all be well with you. Is everything free from illness and misfortune among your relatives and kin?” Then, with a sigh, He added, “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 has befallen my noble parents because of us—on our account, their sons were killed, and on our account, they were imprisoned. Yet, by good fortune, today I see my own people, as I have longed to do, O gentle one. Tell me, dear Akrura, the reason for your coming.” Thus questioned by the Blessed Lord, Akrura described everything: the enmity among the Yadus, Kamsa’s intent to kill Vasudeva, and the very message for which he had been sent. He recounted what Nārada had told Kamsa about the birth of Anakadundubhi’s son. Hearing Akrura’s words, Kṛṣṇa and Balarāma, destroyers of enemy heroes, exchanged knowing smiles and informed Nanda, their father, of the king’s command. Nanda at once 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, the chief cowherd announced to all the settlement. When the cowherd women heard this, they were stricken with grief, for Akrura had come to Vraja to take Rāma and Kṛṣṇa to the city. Some, afflicted in heart, grew pale with sighing; others let their garments, bangles, and hair-braids slip loose in their sorrow. Absorbed in thoughts of Kṛṣṇa, some ceased their usual activities, unaware of the world around them, as if lost within their own hearts. Others, recalling Śauri’s loving smiles and words, became overwhelmed; the charming phrases that had touched their hearts now left them bewildered. They remembered his graceful walk, his gestures, affectionate smiles and glances, his jokes that dispelled all sorrow, and his playful deeds. Tormented by the thought of separation from Mukunda, they gathered together in groups, their faces wet with tears, and spoke, their hearts fixed on Acyuta. The gopīs 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, 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. “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. “Mukunda, captivated by their sweet, honeyed words, is now under their control, though he is strong-willed. How will he ever return to us village women, who are bashful and bewildered by love? Today, surely, there will be a great festival for the Daśārhas, Bhojas, Andhakas, Vṛṣṇis, and Sātvatas; those on the road will see the beautiful Lord, the abode of all virtues, the son of Devakī. Let the name Akrūra be given to one so pitiless as this! How cruel, that he, without comforting us in our deep sorrow, will take our dearest friend far away. “He, with an unfeeling heart, has mounted the chariot, and the reckless urge him on. The cowherds, neglected by their elders, follow with their carts, while fate itself turns against us today. Let us go and stop Mādhava! What could our elders and relatives do for us, when, by fate, our hearts—unable to bear even a half-blink’s separation from Mukunda—are now shattered? We gopīs, whose hearts were led away by his loving smiles, enchanting words, playful glances, embraces, and the joys of the rāsa dance—how can we cross this endless darkness of separation, even for a moment, without him? “When, at day’s end, the friend of Ananta returns to Vraja, surrounded by cowherds, his hair dusted by their hooves, playing his flute, glancing with smiling eyes—how could we live if we were deprived of him?” Thus, the women of Vraja, their minds absorbed in Kṛṣṇa and tormented by separation, cast aside their shyness and wept aloud, crying out, “Govinda! Dāmodara! Mādhava!” As the women lamented in this way and the sun rose, Akrura, having fulfilled his friendly duties, urged the chariot onward. The cowherds, led by Nanda and the elders, followed with their carts, bringing many gifts—jars filled with the products of their cows. The cowherd women, enchanted by their beloved Kṛṣṇa, followed after him; longing for a sign from the Lord, they stood waiting. Seeing them so afflicted as he departed, Kṛṣṇa, the foremost of the Yadus, comforted them with loving words, assuring them through messengers, “I will return.” As long as the banner was visible and the dust from the chariot could be seen, the gopīs continued to follow, their hearts drawn to him as if by painted images. When hope of Govinda’s return was gone, they turned back; their sorrow lifted, they spent their days singing of their beloved’s deeds. O King, the Lord arrived, accompanied by Balarāma and Akrura, riding swiftly in the chariot, to the purifying waters of the Yamunā river. There, after rinsing his mouth and drinking the clear, jewel-like water, Kṛṣṇa entered a grove of trees with Rāma and then returned to the chariot. Akrura, having bid them farewell, seated himself atop the chariot, and went to the Yamunā’s pool to perform his ritual bathing.