Uddhava, the dear companion of Krishna, was visiting the home of Nanda and Yaśodā in Vraja. As he observed the depth of their love and devotion for Krishna, his heart swelled with joy. Turning to Nanda, Uddhava spoke with reverence, praising them: “Among all embodied beings, you two are most worthy of honor, for your minds are steadfastly fixed upon Nārāyaṇa, the supreme teacher of all. Rāma and Mukunda are the very seed and womb of the universe—the Person and the Primal Matter. In every being, they are the ancient lords of knowledge and mastery, set apart from all else. “At the time of death, even if one’s mind is impure, if it is fixed for a moment upon him, he swiftly removes the store of karma. Radiant as the sun and full of Brahman, he leads one to the supreme path. 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 arena, Krishna will fulfill whatever promises he made to you when he last met you. Do not grieve, O greatly fortunate ones; you will see Krishna nearby. He dwells within the hearts of all beings, like 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. Nor does he have any action in this world among the mixed sources of good and bad; even so, 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 unborn. “Just as, by the vision of the bee, something appears to whirl and be greatly agitated, so, in the mind, the self is remembered as the doer by the notion of agency. Truly, 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, 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.” As Uddhava and Nanda spoke through the night, the hours passed gently. With the dawn, the cowherd women of Vraja awoke. They examined the lamps, worshipped the household deities, and began churning the curds. Their bracelets and garlands shone as they pulled the ropes; their hips, breasts, necklaces, and earrings swayed, cheeks radiant, faces adorned with red kumkum. As they sang of Krishna, the lotus-eyed one, their voices seemed to touch the heavens. The sound mingled with the churning curds, dispelling inauspiciousness from all directions. When the sun rose and the Lord appeared, the residents of Vraja gathered at Nanda’s door. There, they saw a golden chariot and wondered aloud, “Whose is this? Has Akrura arrived, or someone else fulfilling Kamsa’s purpose, by whom Krishna was taken to Mathurā? What atonement will he accomplish for us, for the pleasure of our master?” While the women spoke thus, Uddhava arrived, having performed his morning rites. The women of Vraja beheld Uddhava—long-armed, with fresh lotus eyes, clad in yellow, adorned with a garland of lotuses, his face like a blooming lotus, earrings shining. They recognized him: “You are the attendant of the Yadu lord, sent by the master to do something dear for his parents. Otherwise, we cannot imagine any reason for him to be remembered in Vraja; the bond of affection among kin is hard to renounce, even for a sage. “Friendship with others is made for some purpose, as long as the purpose lasts; as men make with women, just as bees do with flowers. The destitute are abandoned by prostitutes; subjects forsake a king who is powerless; students leave a teacher once the knowledge is learned; priests depart after receiving their fee. Birds leave a tree once its fruit is gone; guests depart from a house after eating; deer abandon a forest when it is burned; lovers leave a woman after enjoying her.” Thus, the gopīs, whose words, bodies, and minds were absorbed in Govinda, renounced worldly concerns when Krishna’s messenger, Uddhava, arrived. They sang of his beloved deeds and wept, unashamed, recalling again and again the acts of his childhood and youth. 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 in the assembly of the Yadus. “After giving us but once the nectar of his lips, enchanting us, he abandoned us like a flower is 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, who is 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. “What women, in heaven, on earth, or in the underworld, are unattainable to him, whose charming smile and playful brows deceive? We, whose fortune is to worship the dust of his feet, are but humble; even among the wretched, the name of the glorious one is heard. “Leave 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, creating 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. “Those who once tasted the nectar drops of his playful acts, hearing them just once, were freed from all dualities and abandoned their homes and families, though destitute. Many here, like birds, wander as mendicants. “We, trusting his crooked words as nectar, ignorant as chicks listening to their mother’s call, are Krishna’s wives, like deer. Again and again we recall the intense pain from his nail’s touch. Let other news be told, O messenger. “Dear friend, have you returned, sent by the beloved? Tell me, what do you seek? You are worthy of honor, O gentle one. How do you bring us to the side of the one who cannot be abandoned, when Lakshmi, his bride, always dwells upon his chest? “Is the noble son now in Mathurā? Does he remember his father’s house, his kin, and the cowherds? Does he ever speak of us, his servants? When will he place his mighty, fragrant arm upon our heads?” Thus, the gopīs poured out their longing and love, their words echoing the depths of their devotion for Krishna, as the dawn unfolded in Vraja.