In the tranquil village of Vraja, the wisdom of the elders was profound. They spoke of the nature of reality, declaring that all things—whatever one sees or hears, whether past, present, or future, whether stable or moving, great or small—are ultimately insignificant apart from the true essence of the infallible Lord. He alone is everything, the Supreme Self, and nothing else is truly worth speaking of. As these truths were discussed, the night quietly passed for Nanda, Krishna’s dear companion. With dawn approaching, the cowherd women of Vraja awoke. They tended to their homes, examined the lamps, worshipped their household deities, and began to churn the curds. Adorned with bracelets and garlands, the women pulled the ropes of the churn, their hips and breasts swaying, necklaces and earrings shining, and their cheeks radiant, faces beautifully decorated with red kumkum. While they worked, the women sang of Krishna, the lotus-eyed one. Their melodious voices seemed to touch the heavens, blending with the rhythmic sound of churning curds. This harmonious chorus dispelled all inauspiciousness from every direction. As 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 chariot is this?” Some speculated, “Has Akrura arrived, or is it someone else fulfilling Kamsa’s purpose, by whom Krishna was taken to Mathura?” They worried, “What atonement will he perform for us, for the pleasure of our master?” While the women spoke thus, Uddhava, Krishna’s companion, arrived, having completed his morning rites. The women of Vraja gazed at Uddhava. He was long-armed, his eyes fresh as lotuses, clad in yellow garments, adorned with a garland of lotuses, his face blooming like a lotus, his earrings shining brightly. They recognized him, saying, “We know you as the attendant of the Yadu lord, sent by the master to do something dear for his parents. Otherwise, what reason would he have to remember Vraja? The bond of affection among kin is hard to renounce, even for a sage.” They reflected on the nature of relationships, “Friendship with others is made for some purpose, as long as the purpose lasts, 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 knowledge is gained; 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.” Absorbed in Govinda, the gopīs renounced all worldly concerns upon Uddhava’s arrival. They sang of Krishna’s beloved deeds and wept openly, 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 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?” She continued, “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. 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.” She lamented, “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.” Turning to the bee, she asked, “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?” Śuka then said: Uddhava, hearing their longing for Krishna, comforted the gopīs with loving messages and spoke gently, “Ah, you are truly fulfilled and honored in the world, for you have devoted your minds entirely to Vāsudeva, the Lord. By vows, austerity, sacrifice, recitation, study, self-restraint, and other means, devotion to Krishna is attained. By your good fortune, you have established supreme devotion to the Lord of exalted fame—a devotion difficult even for sages to attain. By destiny, you have abandoned sons, husbands, bodies, relatives, and homes, and chosen that Supreme Person known as Krishna.” Uddhava continued, “The state of complete absorption in the Transcendent, O greatly fortunate ones, has arisen in you through separation; by this, you have bestowed a great favor upon me. Listen to the dear message, bringing you happiness, which I have brought in secret from your beloved husband.” He conveyed Krishna’s words: “My separation from you is never complete, for I am present in all beings, just as the elements—space, air, fire, water, and earth—are present in all things; so too am I the foundation of mind, life-breath, elements, senses, and their qualities. By Myself, within Myself, I create, destroy, and sustain Myself, through My own power, as the essence of elements, senses, and their qualities. The Self is made of knowledge, pure, distinct, and not bound by qualities; yet, through the workings of illusion, it appears to move through deep sleep, dream, and waking states.” “By which one contemplates the objects of the senses—arising falsely like a dream—let one restrain the senses, remaining ever wakeful and self-possessed. This is the inner teaching, the yoga and discriminative wisdom of the wise: renunciation, austerity, self-control, and truth, like rivers flowing to the ocean. Indeed, though I, your beloved, appear to be far away from you, it is for the purpose of drawing your minds closer to Me, out of your longing for constant remembrance. Just as, when a beloved is far away, the mind dwells upon him, so too, for women, the heart is not as absorbed when he is near and visible to the eyes.” Thus, in the heart of Vraja, the gopīs’ longing was met with the wisdom and comfort of Krishna’s message, reminding them that true union with the Lord transcends all separation, and their devotion shines as an example for all.