Akrūra, deeply moved and humbled, reflected on his own condition before the Lord. “Deluded as I am,” he confessed, “I wander through life absorbed in things like my body, children, home, wealth, and relatives, thinking them to be real and lasting. O Lord, I roam in these dreamlike illusions, mistaking them for truth.” His heart poured forth its confusion: “My mind, lost in the turmoil of opposites and shrouded in darkness, cannot discern what is truly dear to my own self. Instead, I remain attached to things that are impermanent, not the self, and bring only pain.” He compared himself to a fool who, ignoring water hidden by grass, chases after a mirage in the desert. “So too, turning away from You, do I chase after fleeting illusions,” he lamented. “My pitiable mind, battered by desires and actions, cannot be restrained. The senses, so difficult to control, drag my mind here and there, and I am helpless before them.” In this state of helplessness, Akrūra realized his only refuge: “Thus I have come to Your feet, which are so hard for the unworthy to attain. Even this, I know, is only by Your grace, O Lord. Liberation from birth and death comes only when one’s mind is devoted to the proper worship of You, O Lotus-naveled One.” With deep reverence, he offered salutations: “Homage to You, who are pure consciousness, the source of all certainty, the Lord of Puruṣa and Pradhāna, the Brahman of infinite power. Salutations to Vāsudeva, destroyer of all beings. O Hṛṣīkeśa, I bow to You—please protect me, who has surrendered at Your feet.” Thus concludes the fortieth chapter, ‘Akrūra’s Praise,’ in the first half of the tenth book of the glorious Bhāgavata Mahāpurāṇa, revered scripture of the supreme renunciates. Śrī Śuka continued the story: As Akrūra offered his heartfelt prayers, the Lord graciously revealed His divine form in the waters before him. But, like an actor who concludes his performance, Kṛṣṇa withdrew His vision once more. Astonished that the wondrous vision had vanished, Akrūra quickly emerged from the water. He completed his necessary duties, his mind still reeling from the revelation, and then returned to the chariot. Noticing Akrūra’s amazement, Hṛṣīkeśa asked, “What marvelous thing did you see—on earth, in the sky, or in the water—that you appear so astonished?” Akrūra replied with humility, “O Lord, whatever wonders exist here—on earth, in the sky, or in the water—are all contained within You, the very soul of the universe. What could I have seen that is not already known to me? Wherever all marvels are found, I see them in You, O Brahman. What else here could astonish me?” Having spoken, Akrūra, son of Gāndinī, urged the chariot onward. By the end of the day, he brought Rāma and Kṛṣṇa to the city of Mathurā. Along the way, villagers gathered in groups, and, upon seeing the sons of Vasudeva, their hearts overflowed with delight—they could not take their eyes off the two brothers. Meanwhile, the residents of Vraja, led by Nanda and the cowherds, arrived at the city’s gardens and waited there with eager anticipation. When they met, the Lord, master of the universe, greeted Akrūra with warmth, taking his extended hand in His own and smiling. Kṛṣṇa said, “You should enter the city and your house ahead of us, accompanied by your chariot. We will remain here for now, and then come to see the city.” But Akrūra pleaded, “O Lord, I will not enter Mathurā without You both. Do not abandon me, O Master, for I am Your devotee and You are always affectionate towards Your devotees. Come, let us go to our homes and make them blessed, O Acyuta, together with Your elder brother, the cowherds, and Your dearest friends. Sanctify our homes with the dust of Your feet; by its purity, even the ancestors, the sacrificial fires, and the gods are never fully satisfied. After washing Your feet, the great Bali became worthy of praise and attained incomparable prosperity and the supreme path of devotion. The water from washing Your feet purified the three worlds; Śiva placed it on his head, and the sons of Sagara ascended to heaven. O God of gods, Lord of the universe, whose hearing and praise are holy, O foremost among the Yadus, praised by the best of hymns, O Nārāyaṇa, I bow to You.” The Blessed Lord replied, “I will come to your house, accompanied by the noble ones. After slaying the wicked Yadu king, I will bring joy to my friends.” Thus addressed, Akrūra, though troubled in mind, entered the city, reported the completion of his task to Kaṃsa, and then went to his home. Later that afternoon, Lord Kṛṣṇa, accompanied by Saṅkarṣaṇa and surrounded by the cowherds, all eager to see the city, entered Mathurā. They beheld the city’s splendor: lofty crystal gates, grand doorways adorned with golden arches, copper-plated walls, deep and difficult moats, and gardens and groves enhancing its beauty. Palaces with golden spires and balconies rose high, with rows of assembly halls and mansions, all adorned with balustrades and altars inlaid with beryl, diamonds, spotless sapphires, coral, pearls, and emeralds. The latticed windows, doorways, and floors echoed with the soft sounds of pigeons and peacocks. The city’s streets, markets, and crossroads were sprinkled with water, strewn with garlands, sandalwood powder, and rice grains. Doorways and homes were beautifully decorated with full pots anointed with yogurt and sandal paste, rows of flowers and lamps with tender leaves, clusters of plantain trees, and festoons of cloth banners. As the two sons of Vasudeva entered, surrounded by their friends and following the royal road, the women of the city, eager to see them, rushed forth and climbed to the tops of their mansions, filled with excitement. In their haste, some women put on their clothes and ornaments incorrectly, some forgot to finish dressing, some wore only one earring or anklet, and others adorned only one eye with collyrium. Some left their meals unfinished and the festival aside, coming without bathing; others, roused from sleep by the commotion, left their infants unweaned and hurried out, even the mothers themselves. With his lotus eyes, bold playful glances, and gentle smiles, Kṛṣṇa stole the minds of those women, like a proud, intoxicated elephant. He brought joy to their eyes and delight to their hearts. Seeing him again and again, their minds drawn to him as they had heard in stories, the women, their pride awakened by his smiling glances, embraced with their eyes the very embodiment of bliss. Their skin bristled with joy, and all their sorrows were forgotten. Their faces blooming with happiness, the women climbed to the rooftops and showered flowers of good wishes upon Kṛṣṇa and Balarāma. The delighted brāhmaṇas, at various places, worshipped the two brothers with curds, unbroken rice, water vessels, garlands, fragrant substances, and other offerings. The townspeople marveled, saying, “Oh, what great austerity did the cowherd women perform, that they are able to see these two, the greatest festival of the human world?” As they proceeded, Kṛṣṇa, the elder brother of Gadā, saw a washerman approaching—a dyer—and asked him for some fine, clean clothes.