Nanda Mahārāja, his heart filled with longing, reflected deeply on the extraordinary events that had unfolded in Vraja. He recalled the words of the sage Garga, who had foretold that Krishna and Balarāma, the best among the gods, had taken birth for a great divine purpose. Nanda marveled at how Krishna, with effortless strength, had vanquished Kamsa—whose might was like ten thousand elephants—as well as the formidable wrestlers and the lordly elephant, just as a lion subdues lesser beasts. He remembered how Krishna had broken three mighty palm trees, as strong as a great bow, with a single hand, and how he had held aloft the mountain for seven days to protect the people of Vraja. Nanda’s thoughts wandered to the many demons—Pralamba, Dhenuka, Arishta, Trināvarta, Baka, and others—who, though conquerors of gods and demons, had been playfully destroyed by Krishna in their very midst. As Nanda dwelt again and again on these wondrous deeds, his mind, wholly devoted to Krishna, was overcome with a surge of love, and he sat silent, lost in longing. Beside him, Yaśodā listened to these stories of her beloved son; tears welled in her eyes and, moved by maternal affection, her breasts became wet. Witnessing the boundless love Nanda and Yaśodā bore for Krishna, Uddhava, who had come as Krishna’s messenger, was filled with joy. He spoke to Nanda with deep reverence, saying, “O bestowers of honor, you are surely the most praiseworthy among all beings, for your minds are so steadfastly fixed upon Nārāyaṇa, the teacher of all.” Uddhava continued, “Rāma and Mukunda are the very 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. At the moment of death, even if a person’s mind is impure, if it is fixed on him for even a moment, Krishna swiftly removes the store of karma. Radiant as the sun and full of Brahman, he leads one to the supreme path.” He went on, “Nārāyaṇa, the cause of all, has taken mortal form for the sake of all souls. Since you have set your hearts so deeply upon him, what greater merit could there be for you, O great ones? Very soon, Acyuta, the Lord of the Sātvatas, will return to Vraja and bring you joy. Having slain Kamsa, the enemy of his people, Krishna will surely fulfill whatever he promised you when last you met. Do not grieve, O greatly fortunate ones; you will see Krishna nearby. He dwells within the hearts of all, like a light within the ether.” Uddhava explained further, “He who exists in reality has no one whom he loves or hates, neither superior nor inferior, nor equal nor unequal; he is the same to all. He has neither mother nor father, wife nor sons, nor any relation; he has no body or birth. Nor does he act in this world, though good and bad arise; yet for the sake of play, he appears for the protection of the virtuous. Though beyond qualities, he assumes the modes of goodness, passion, and darkness; playing with them, he creates, maintains, and destroys, though himself unborn. Just as, by the vision of the bee, something appears to whirl, so the self is remembered as the doer by the mind’s notion of agency.” He reminded them, “He is not your son alone, O blessed ones. Lord Hari is the son, the self, the father, and the mother of all; he is the ruler. Whatever is seen or heard, past, present, or future, stable or moving, great or small—apart from the true substance of the infallible, nothing is worth speaking of. He alone is everything, the Supreme Self.” Thus, as the night passed in sacred conversation, the cowherd women of Vraja arose at dawn. They checked their lamps, worshipped the household deities, and began to churn curds. Their bangles and garlands shimmered as they pulled the ropes, their hips, breasts, necklaces, and earrings swaying, their cheeks radiant and faces adorned with red kumkum. As they sang of the lotus-eyed Krishna, their voices soared to the heavens, mingling with the sound of churning curds and dispelling all inauspiciousness from the directions. When the sun rose and the Lord appeared, the people of Vraja gathered at Nanda’s door and saw a golden chariot. They wondered, “Whose chariot is this? Has Akrura arrived, or someone else sent for Kamsa’s purpose—the one who took our Krishna to Mathurā?” The women questioned what atonement this visitor might offer for the sake of their beloved Krishna. As they spoke, Uddhava, having completed his morning rites, arrived. The women of Vraja beheld Uddhava—Krishna’s companion—tall and long-armed, with eyes fresh as lotuses, clad in yellow garments, adorned with a garland of lotuses, his face blooming like a lotus, his earrings shining. They said, “We know you as the attendant of the Yadu lord, sent here by the master to do something dear for his parents. Otherwise, what reason could there be for him to be remembered in Vraja? The bond of affection among kin is hard to renounce, even for a sage.” They spoke with gentle sorrow, “Friendship with others lasts only for some purpose, as long as the purpose endures—just as men with women, or bees with flowers. The destitute are abandoned by prostitutes, subjects forsake a powerless king, students leave a teacher once they have learned, and priests depart after receiving their fee. Birds leave a tree once its fruit is gone, guests leave after eating, deer abandon a burned forest, and lovers leave a woman after enjoying her.” Thus, the gopīs, whose words, bodies, and minds were wholly absorbed in Govinda, renounced all worldly concerns as Uddhava arrived. They sang of Krishna’s beloved deeds and wept openly, recalling again and again his childhood and youthful acts. One gopī, seeing a honeybee and meditating on union with Krishna, imagined it as a messenger sent by her beloved and spoke, “O bee, companion of the deceitful, do not touch the feet of my rival. Her garland, smeared with the pollen from her breasts, stains your whiskers. Let the lord of bees carry the favor of those proud women—for you are his messenger, fit to be mocked among the Yadus.” She lamented, “After giving us but once the nectar of his lips, enchanting us, he abandoned us like a flower left behind. How does Padmā serve his lotus feet, whose mind is stolen by the praises of the glorious one? Why do you, six-legged one, sing here of the lord of the Yadus, the ancient master of our homes? Go sing of his exploits among his friends in victory, for he has healed the pain of their breasts, granting them their desires.” With a heart full of longing, she asked, “What women—in heaven, on earth, or in the underworld—are unattainable to him, whose charming smile and playful brows deceive? We, who are but humble, are only fortunate enough to worship the dust of his feet; even among the wretched, the name of the glorious one is heard.” Thus, the love and longing of the people of Vraja for Krishna shone forth, their hearts forever bound to him, the Lord of all.