Krishna’s wondrous deeds in Vraja were spoken of with awe and longing. With a single hand, he had broken the three mighty palm trees, strong as a great bow, and for seven days he had held aloft the great mountain, protecting all. In playful sport, he vanquished dreadful demons—Pralamba, Dhenuka, Arishta, Trinavarta, Baka, and others—foes who had conquered gods and demons alike, yet here they fell to his child’s play. As these stories were recounted, Nanda, his heart wholly devoted to Krishna, was overcome by waves of love and longing. He sat in silence, lost in remembrance, his mind awash with affection. Yaśodā, too, listening to the glories of her son, wept tears of love, her mother’s heart overflowing, her body trembling with emotion. Witnessing such pure and boundless love in Nanda and Yaśodā, Uddhava was filled with joy. He spoke gently to Nanda, "Among all embodied beings, you two are most praiseworthy, O bestowers of honor, for your minds are fixed so firmly upon Nārāyaṇa, the teacher of all. Know that 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 wisdom and mastery, distinct from all else. "Even if, at the end of life, a person fixes an impure mind for just a moment upon him, Krishna swiftly burns away the store of karma. Radiant as the sun, full of Brahman, he leads such a soul to the supreme path. Since you have set your hearts so deeply upon Nārāyaṇa, the cause of all, who has taken a mortal form for the sake of all souls—what greater merit could there be for you? "Soon, Acyuta, the Lord of the Sātvatas, will return to Vraja and bring joy to his parents. Having slain Kamsa, the enemy of the Sātvatas, in the wrestling arena, Krishna will fulfill whatever promises he made to you. Do not grieve, O greatly fortunate ones; you will see Krishna again, for he dwells within the hearts of all beings, like a light shining in the ether. "In truth, he has no one dear, nor anyone disliked; no superior or inferior, no equal or unequal, for he is the same to all. He has neither mother nor father, nor wife nor sons; no one is his own or another, nor does he have body or birth. He has no actions in this world, no dealings with good or bad, yet for the sake of play he appears, protecting the virtuous. Though beyond all qualities, he assumes the modes of goodness, passion, and darkness, and with them, though unborn, he creates, maintains, and destroys. "Just as the vision of a bee makes things appear to whirl and tremble, so too, by the mind’s sense of agency, the self is imagined as the doer. Truly, O blessed ones, he is not your son alone—Hari is the son, self, father, and 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 deep conversation, the cowherd women of Vraja arose. They examined the lamps, worshipped the household deities, and began to churn curds, their bracelets and garlands shining as they pulled the ropes. Their hips, breasts, necklaces, and earrings moved with the rhythm, their cheeks radiant, faces adorned with red kumkum. As they sang of the lotus-eyed Krishna, their voices rose to the heavens, mingling with the sound of churning, dispelling all inauspiciousness from the directions. With sunrise, the Lord appeared, and the people of Vraja gathered at Nanda’s door. There, they saw a golden chariot and wondered, "Whose is this? Has Akrura returned, or is it another who serves Kamsa’s designs, by whom Krishna was taken to Mathura? What atonement will he offer for us, to please our master?" As they pondered, Uddhava, having completed his morning rites, arrived. The women of Vraja beheld Krishna’s companion—Uddhava, long-armed, with fresh lotus-like eyes, clad in yellow, adorned with a garland of lotuses, his face blooming with radiance, his earrings shining. They said, "We know you as the attendant of the Yadu lord, sent by the master to do something dear for his parents. Otherwise, why else would Krishna be remembered here in Vraja? The bond of kinship is hard to break, even for a sage. "Friendships with others last only as long as their purpose, just as men’s bonds with women, or bees with flowers. The destitute are abandoned by prostitutes; subjects forsake a powerless king; students leave the teacher once knowledge is gained; priests depart after receiving their fee. Birds leave a tree once its fruit is gone; guests depart after eating; deer abandon a burned forest; lovers leave after their pleasure." Thus, the gopīs, whose words, bodies, and minds were absorbed in Govinda, renounced all worldly concerns as Krishna’s messenger arrived. They sang of his beloved deeds and wept openly, recalling again and again the acts of his childhood and youth. One gopī, seeing a honeybee and lost in thoughts of Krishna, imagined it as a messenger from her beloved and spoke to it: "O bee, companion of the deceitful, do not touch the feet of my rival. The garland, stained with pollen from her breasts, marks your whiskers. Let your lord seek the favor of those proud women; you are his messenger, fit for mockery among the Yadus. "After giving us but once the nectar of his lips, he enchanted us and abandoned us, just as a flower is discarded. How does Padmā serve his lotus feet, he 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 victories among his friends, for he has healed the pain of their hearts, granting their desires. "What women, in heaven, on earth, or in the underworld, are unattainable to him, whose charming smile and playful brows deceive? We, whose only fortune is to worship the dust of his feet, are but humble, yet even among the wretched, his name is heard. "Take his foot from your head; I know his sweet words. He sends you, skilled in persuasion, as his messenger. He has abandoned his wives and children here, though he created them himself, and left without concern. What trust can be placed in him? "Like hunters pursuing the king of monkeys, he wounded women who were unprotected and deformed by love, conquered by desire. Even Bali, though powerful, was bound like a bird. Enough of friendship with the dark one; the topics of his deeds are hard to abandon." So the gopīs, their hearts aching yet overflowing with love, spoke and sang, their lives entwined forever with the memory of Krishna, the beloved of Vraja.