All the people rejoiced as they beheld Rāma and Janārdana, their hearts swelling with happiness like those who, after long days of hardship, recover a precious treasure they thought lost. In that festive atmosphere, the arts flourished as taught in the Śaiva Tantras—sixty-four in number—ranging from singing, playing instruments, and dancing, to painting, decorating, and making garlands; from culinary skills and needlework to the knowledge of gems, metals, and trees; from clever games and riddles to the training of birds, the making of magical devices, and the mastery of poetry, dialects, and omens. All these arts were known and cherished, painting a rich tapestry of culture and joy. Among the Vṛṣṇis, Uddhava stood foremost—a wise counselor, beloved friend of Kṛṣṇa, and direct disciple of Bṛhaspati. His intelligence and devotion were unmatched. Once, the Lord Kṛṣṇa, remover of all distress for those who seek his refuge, took Uddhava’s hand in his own—so dear was Uddhava to him—and spoke with gentle affection. He said, “Go, gentle Uddhava, to Vraja. Bring joy to my parents, and with my messages, soothe the agony of the gopīs, whose hearts burn in separation from me. Those women have fixed their minds and very lives upon me. For my sake, they have abandoned all bodily comforts and worldly duties. In their hearts, they have come to me as their beloved and very self. Those who have forsaken all for me, I uphold them. “For me, their dearest beloved, though far away, the women of Gokula are bewildered, constantly remembering me, overwhelmed by the pain of longing. My cowherd maidens, whose hearts are united with me, somehow sustain their lives with great difficulty, holding on by hope of my return and the messages I send.” Thus instructed, Uddhava honored his master’s command, mounted his chariot, and departed for the cowherd village of Nanda. As the sun was setting, Uddhava arrived at Nanda’s Vraja. His chariot was hidden in the golden dust raised by the hooves of the cattle returning home. The air resounded with the deep bellowing of strong bulls, each vying for the company of the cows, while calves, heavy with milk, ran to their mothers with eager cries. All around, white calves leapt about, and the air was filled with the sounds of milking and the sweet melodies of flutes. Gopīs, beautifully adorned, sang with the cowherd men the auspicious deeds of Balarāma and Kṛṣṇa, making the whole village resplendent with song and memory. The delightful settlement was alive with rituals for fire, the sun, guests, cows, brāhmaṇas, ancestors, and gods. Incense, lamps, and garlands adorned every home. Flower-filled groves bloomed everywhere, echoing with the songs of birds, and ponds teemed with swans, cranes, and lotuses. When Uddhava arrived, Nanda, recognizing him as Kṛṣṇa’s dear friend, embraced him joyfully and honored him with the same devotion he felt for Vāsudeva. He was fed with the finest food and seated comfortably on a soft couch. Once Uddhava’s fatigue had passed, Nanda inquired after his well-being, offering foot massages and other services. “O fortunate one,” Nanda asked, “is our friend, the son of Śūra, well? Is he surrounded by his family and children, free from troubles, and steadfast in his friendship? By good fortune, wicked Kaṃsa, who always hated the virtuous Yadus, has been slain along with his followers by his own evil. “Does Kṛṣṇa still remember us—his mother, his friends, the cowherds, the village, his own dear ones, the cows, Vṛndāvana, and the hill? Will Govinda return, even once, to see his people? Then we shall behold his face, with its fine nose and beautiful, smiling eyes. “From forest fires, storms and rains, wild bulls and serpents, and dangers impossible to cross—even from death itself—we were protected by Kṛṣṇa, the supremely great soul. When we remember Kṛṣṇa’s heroic deeds, his playful glances, his laughter and speech, O dear one, all our activities become slack. Our minds become absorbed in those places—rivers, mountains, and forests—adorned by Mukunda’s footsteps, where we saw him play. “I think Kṛṣṇa and Rāma, the best among the gods, have come here for some great purpose, just as Garga said. Kaṃsa, whose strength was like ten thousand elephants, the wrestlers, and the lord of elephants—he destroyed them all effortlessly, as a lion does beasts. He broke the three mighty palm trees, strong as a great bow, with one hand, and for seven days he held up the mountain. Pralamba, Dhenuka, Ariṣṭa, Tṛṇāvarta, Baka, and others—these demons, conquerors of gods and demons, were slain by him here in play.” Thus, remembering again and again, Nanda, whose mind was devoted to Kṛṣṇa, became overwhelmed with longing and sat silent, overcome by the surge of love. Yaśodā, too, as she listened to the stories of her son’s deeds, her eyes filled with tears, and her breasts, flowing with affection, became wet. Seeing such supreme love for Kṛṣṇa in Nanda and Yaśodā, Uddhava was filled with joy and spoke to Nanda: “You two are surely the most praiseworthy among all embodied beings, for your minds are so deeply fixed upon Nārāyaṇa, the teacher of all. For these two—Rāma and Mukunda—are the seed and womb of the universe: the Person and the Primal Matter. In all beings, they are the ancient lords of knowledge and mastery, distinct from all else. “He, in whom, at the time of death, a person fixes even an impure mind for a moment, who swiftly removes the store of karma—he, radiant as the sun and full of Brahman, leads one to the supreme path. In him, Nārāyaṇa, cause of all, who has taken a mortal form for the sake of all souls—since you have set your hearts so deeply, O great ones, what greater merit could there be for you? “Within a short time, Acyuta, the Lord of the Sātvatas, will come to Vraja and bring joy to his parents. Having slain Kaṃsa, the enemy of all the Sātvatas, in the midst of the arena, whatever Kṛṣṇa promised you when he met you, he will surely fulfill. Do not grieve, O greatly fortunate ones; you will see Kṛṣṇa nearby. He dwells within the hearts of all beings, like a light within the ether. “For him who exists in reality, there is no one dear nor anyone disliked; neither superior nor inferior, nor equal nor unequal, for he is the same to all. He has neither mother nor father, nor wife nor sons and others; neither his own nor another, nor body nor birth at all.” Thus, in the sacred cowherd village, love and wisdom mingled, and the message of the Lord brought solace to the hearts of those who loved him most.