As Krishna prepared to depart from Vraja, his heart seemingly unmoved, he mounted the chariot, urged on by those around him who did not sense the depth of the moment. The cowherd boys, left without the guidance of their elders, followed behind with their carts, even as fate itself appeared to turn against the people of Vraja that day. In their anguish, the gopīs cried out, “Let us go and stop Mādhava! What can our elders or relatives do for us now, when fate has shattered our hearts—hearts that cannot bear even the briefest separation from Mukunda?” Their minds were overwhelmed with grief, for they, whose hearts had been captivated by Krishna’s loving smiles, his sweet words, playful glances, tender embraces, and the ecstasy of the rāsa dance, wondered how they could possibly endure the endless darkness of separation, even for a moment. They recalled how, at the close of each day, Krishna—the friend of Ananta—would return to Vraja, surrounded by the cowherd boys, his hair dusted by the hooves of their cattle, playing his flute, and casting smiling glances that filled their hearts with life. How could they survive if they were deprived of him? Śuka describes how the women of Vraja, their minds wholly absorbed in Krishna and tormented by separation, cast aside their shyness and wept openly, crying out, “Govinda! Dāmodara! Mādhava!” As their lamentations filled the air and the sun rose, Akrūra, having fulfilled his friendly duties, urged the chariot onward. The cowherds, led by Nanda and others, followed with their carts, carrying many gifts—jars filled with the products of their beloved cows. The cowherd women, their hearts enchanted by Krishna, followed after him as well, longing for a final sign or glance from the Lord, and stood waiting, their eyes searching. Seeing their suffering as he departed, Krishna, the foremost of the Yadus, comforted them with loving words. Through messengers, he assured them, “I will return.” As long as the banner of the chariot was visible and the dust stirred by its wheels could be seen, the people of Vraja followed, their hearts bound to Krishna as if drawn by painted images. When all hope of Govinda’s return had faded, they turned back. Yet, free from sorrow, they spent their days singing of their beloved’s deeds, keeping his memory alive in their hearts. Meanwhile, Krishna, accompanied by Balarāma and Akrūra, swiftly journeyed by chariot to the sacred, purifying waters of the Yamuna. There, after rinsing his mouth and drinking the clear, jewel-like water, Krishna entered a grove with Balarāma and then returned to the chariot. Akrūra, having taken leave of them, went to the Yamuna’s pool to perform his ritual bath. As Akrūra immersed himself in the waters, reciting the eternal Brahman, he beheld a wondrous vision: Rama and Krishna together within the water. Amazed, he wondered, “How are the sons of Devaki here in the water, when they should be upon the chariot?” Rising up, he looked for them, and saw them seated as before. Doubting his vision, he submerged himself again. Once more, he beheld a marvelous scene: the great Lord, praised by Siddhas, Charanas, Gandharvas, and Asuras, all bowing with musical offerings. He saw the divine one with a thousand heads, crowned by a thousand serpent hoods, clad in blue garments, shining white like snowy peaks. Upon his lap rested a dark, cloud-hued person, dressed in yellow silk, four-armed, peaceful, with lotus-petal reddish eyes. This being’s face was serene and beautiful, adorned with a charming smile. His brows, nose, ears, cheeks, and lips were all lovely and tinged with red. His arms were long and full, his chest broad and splendid, his neck shaped like a conch, his navel deep, his abdomen marked with gentle folds. His hips and thighs were strong, his hands and knees well-formed, and his legs graceful. His ankles were high, his nails reddish and shining, his feet gleamed like lotus flowers, adorned with nine toes and thumb-like digits. He was adorned with priceless jewels: a crown, bracelets, armlets, sacred thread, waistband, garlands, anklets, and earrings. His lotus hands shone, holding conch, discus, and mace. His chest bore the mark of Srivatsa, the radiant Kaustubha gem, and a garland of forest flowers. Around him stood Sunanda, Nanda, and other associates, the Sanaka sages, the lords of the gods such as Brahma and Rudra, and nine foremost twice-born sages. Prahlada, Narada, Vasu, and other great devotees praised him with pure hearts, each from their own perspective. He was served by Sri (fortune), Pushti (nourishment), speech, brilliance, fame, satisfaction, dissolution, victory, knowledge, ignorance, power, and illusion. Witnessing this divine vision, Akrūra was overwhelmed with delight and supreme devotion. His body thrilled with joy, his heart overflowed with emotion, and his eyes filled with tears. With a choked voice, standing firm in goodness, Akrūra bowed low, joined his palms in reverence, and slowly, with great care, began to praise the Lord. Thus concludes the thirty-ninth chapter, “Akrura’s Return,” in the first half of the Tenth Book of the Śrīmad Bhāgavata Mahāpurāṇa, the supreme scripture for the paramahaṃsas. With deep humility, Akrūra addressed the Lord: “I bow to you, the cause of all causes, Nārāyaṇa, the primeval, imperishable Person, from whose navel-lotus Brahmā arose, and from whom this world has come forth. Earth, water, fire, wind, space, the great elements, the origin of the unmanifest, mind, senses, all objects of the senses, and all the gods—these are the elements that make up the world, O Lord. “Yet even these, beginning with the unmanifest, do not know your true nature, for they are grasped as not-self. Even the unborn, bound by qualities to the unborn, knows only what is beyond qualities—not your true form. “Yogis worship you directly as the Supreme Person, the Lord, as the principle within the self, within all beings, and within the gods. Some twice-born, following the Vedic path, worship you through the threefold Veda, with elaborate sacrifices of many forms and names. Others, having renounced all actions and attained tranquility, worship you, the embodiment of knowledge, through the sacrifice of wisdom. Still others, purified in mind and following prescribed rites, worship you, who are composed of all, as the one with many forms and yet a single form. Some worship you, O Lord, as Śiva, following the path taught by Śiva, in various ways according to the teachings of many teachers. “In truth, all worship you, the Lord in whom all gods reside—even those devoted to other deities, though their minds are set elsewhere, O Master.