When all hope of Govinda’s return had faded, the people who had longed for him turned back to their lives. Yet, they did not let sorrow overtake them. Instead, they filled their days with songs of their beloved’s wondrous deeds, letting his memory become their joy. Meanwhile, O King, Lord Krishna arrived at the sacred banks of the Yamuna, accompanied by Balarama and Akrura. They rode swiftly in their chariot, the air charged with anticipation as they neared the purifying river. There, Krishna and Rama refreshed themselves, rinsing their mouths and drinking the clear, jewel-like waters of the Yamuna. Afterwards, they approached a grove of trees, and, after their ablutions, re-entered the chariot. Akrura, having bid them farewell, remained behind. He seated himself atop the chariot for a moment, then descended and made his way to the Yamuna’s pool to perform his ritual bath. Immersing himself in those holy waters, Akrura recited the eternal Brahman. As he did so, he beheld a wondrous vision: Rama and Krishna together, right there in the water. Amazed, he questioned, “How can the sons of Devaki be here in the water, when they should be seated on the chariot?” He rose from the water and looked toward the chariot—and there, just as before, he saw them seated as if nothing had changed. Was his vision in the water mere illusion? To test it, he submerged himself once more. Again, a marvelous sight unfolded before him. He saw the Supreme Lord being praised by Siddhas, Charanas, Gandharvas, and Asuras, all with bowed heads and accompanied by celestial music. Before Akrura appeared the divine One with a thousand heads, each crowned with a thousand serpent hoods, dressed in blue garments, shining white as snowy peaks. On his lap rested a dark, cloud-hued person, clothed in yellow silk, with four arms, a peaceful countenance, and eyes red as lotus petals. This divine person’s face radiated serenity and beauty, adorned with a gentle smile. His brows, nose, ears, cheeks, and lips glowed with a reddish charm. His arms were long and full, his chest broad and splendid, his neck conch-like, his navel deep, and his abdomen marked with tender folds. His hips and thighs were large and sturdy, his hands and knees well-formed, and his legs graceful and beautifully shaped. His ankles were high, his nails shone with a reddish hue, and his feet—adorned with nine toes and thumb-like digits—gleamed like lotus flowers. He was adorned with priceless jewels: a resplendent crown, bracelets, armlets, a sacred thread, a waistband, garlands, anklets, and earrings. His lotus hands held the conch, discus, and mace. On his chest gleamed the mark of Srivatsa, the radiant Kaustubha gem, and a garland of wild forest flowers. Around him stood Sunanda, Nanda, and other close associates; the great Sanaka sages; the lords of the gods, Brahma and Rudra; and the nine foremost twice-born sages. Prahlada, Narada, the Vasus, and other exalted devotees praised him, each from the purity of their own hearts, their words full of devotion. He was served by Sri (fortune), Pushti (nourishment), speech, brilliance, fame, satisfaction, dissolution, victory, knowledge, ignorance, power, and illusion—all personified and attending to him. Akrura, beholding this divine vision, was overwhelmed with delight and supreme devotion. His body thrilled with joy, his heart overflowed with emotion, and his eyes grew moist. With a voice choked with feeling, standing firm in goodness, he bowed low, joining his palms in reverence, and began to praise the Lord, slowly and with care. 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. Then, Śrī Akrūra spoke: “I bow to you, the cause of all causes, O Nārāyaṇa, the primeval, imperishable Person. From your navel-lotus arose Brahmā, and from you this world has come forth. Earth, water, fire, wind, space—the great elements—along with the unmanifest, mind, senses, all their objects, and all the gods: these are the elements that make up the world, O Lord. Yet these, beginning with the unmanifest, do not know your true nature, for they are perceived 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, 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, performing 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. Others worship you, O Lord, as Śiva, following the path taught by Śiva, in various ways according to the teachings of many teachers. Indeed, all worship you, the Lord in whom all gods reside—even those devoted to other deities, though their minds may be set elsewhere, O Master. Just as rivers born from mountains, filled by rain, flow from all sides into the ocean, so too do all paths ultimately reach you. Sattva, rajas, and tamas are the qualities of your nature; in these, all beings from Brahmā down to the immovable are woven. Homage to you, whose vision is unattached, the self of all, the witness of all minds. This flow of qualities, produced by ignorance, moves among gods, humans, and animals. O Lord, fire is your mouth, earth is your feet, the sun is your eye, the sky your navel, the chariot your heart, the directions your ears, the heavens your head, Indra and the gods your arms, the oceans your belly, the wind your breath, and strength is established as your energy. The trees and herbs are your body hair, the hair on your head is the vegetation, the clouds are your bones and nails, the mountains your teeth, blinking is day and night, Prajapati is your mind, the generative organ is rain, and virility is considered to be yours. In you, the imperishable Self, O Person, the worlds with their guardians and the multitude of living beings are established, just as aquatic creatures gather in water, or gnats assemble on a fig tree, or thoughts arise in the mind. Whatever forms you assume here for the sake of play, by those forms the worlds, cleansed of impurity, joyfully sing your glory. Salutations to you, the primal Fish who moved in the waters of dissolution; to you with the head of a horse, O slayer of Madhu and Kaitabha, I bow. Salutations to the vast One, the shoreless support, the lifter of Mandara mountain; to the One who delights in uplifting the earth, I bow to you in the form of the Boar. Salutations to you, wondrous Lion, who removes the fear of the virtuous; salutations to you, Vāmana, who traversed the three worlds.