As Uddhava stood among the women of Vraja, their hearts aching with longing for Krishna, one of the gopīs spoke out in a voice trembling with emotion. “What woman,” she wondered aloud, “in heaven, on earth, or even in the underworld, could possibly be unattainable for him? His enchanting smile and playful eyes so easily deceive the hearts of all. We, who are counted among the most humble, are still blessed to worship the dust of his feet. Even those considered wretched have heard the glorious name of Krishna.” Her tone shifted as she addressed Uddhava more directly. “Remove his foot from your head, for I know the sweetness of his words. He has sent you, so skilled in persuasion, as his messenger to us. But remember: he who created his wives and children here has abandoned them without a second thought. How can we place our trust in such a one?” She continued, her words heavy with the pain of separation. “Like hunters chasing the king of monkeys, Krishna has wounded us—women left defenseless, transformed by love, conquered by our own desire. Even mighty Bali was bound by him, just as a bird is snared. Enough of this so-called friendship with the dark one! Yet, the stories of his deeds are impossible to abandon.” Her companions nodded, remembering. “Those who have tasted even a drop of the nectar of his playful acts, just by hearing them once, are freed from all dualities. They abandon their homes and families, even if left destitute, and wander like birds, mendicants in search of him.” “We, too,” another gopī added, “trusted his crooked words, thinking them sweet as nectar—so naive, like chicks drawn to their mother’s call. We are Krishna’s wives, helpless as deer. Again and again, we recall the intense pain and longing left by the touch of his nails. Speak to us of other matters, O messenger, for these memories burn too deeply.” Yet, even in their sorrow, they honored Uddhava. “Dear friend, have you returned, sent by our beloved? Tell us: what do you seek? You are worthy of our respect, gentle one. But how can you bring us to the side of him who cannot be abandoned, when Lakshmi herself always dwells upon his chest?” Their questions tumbled out, full of yearning. “Is the noble son of Vasudeva now in Mathurā? Does he remember his father’s house, his kin, and the cowherds? Does he ever speak of us, his humble servants? When will he place his strong, fragrant arm upon our heads once more?” Śrī Śuka, the sage, narrated: Upon hearing the gopīs’ words, so full of longing for Krishna, Uddhava sought to comfort them. With gentle affection, he spoke to them of Krishna’s love. “Ah,” Uddhava said, “you are truly fulfilled and honored in this world, for you have given your whole minds to Vāsudeva, the Lord. Devotion to Krishna is attained through vows, austerity, sacrifice, recitation, study, self-restraint, and many other means. Yet, by your great fortune, you have established the highest devotion to the Lord of exalted fame—a devotion even sages find difficult to reach. By destiny, you have abandoned sons, husbands, bodies, relatives, and homes, and chosen the Supreme Person, Krishna.” He continued, “The state of complete absorption in the Transcendent, O greatly fortunate ones, has arisen in you through your separation from him. In this way, you have bestowed a great favor upon me, for I witness your pure devotion. Now, listen to the secret message I have brought from your beloved, a message meant to bring you happiness.” Uddhava then spoke Krishna’s words: “My separation from you is never complete. I am present in all beings, just as the elements—space, air, fire, water, and earth—are present in all things. I am the very foundation of mind, life-breath, elements, senses, and their qualities. By Myself, within Myself, I create, destroy, and sustain all things through My own power, as the essence of all elements, senses, and their qualities. The Self is made of knowledge, pure and distinct, not bound by qualities; yet, through illusion, it appears to move through deep sleep, dream, and waking states. The mind contemplates the objects of the senses, which arise falsely like dreams—so let one restrain the senses, remaining ever wakeful and self-possessed.” “This,” Krishna’s message continued, “is the inner teaching, the yoga and wisdom of the wise: renunciation, austerity, self-control, and truth, flowing toward Me like rivers to the ocean. Though I appear far from you, it is only to draw your minds closer to Me, so that you may remember Me always. 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. Fix your entire mind on Me, freed from all other attachments, and remember Me always—you will soon attain Me. Even those blessed ones who, while I played at night in Vraja’s forests, could not join the dance, did not fail to attain Me, for they meditated on My heroic deeds.” Śuka continued: When the women of Vraja heard these words from their beloved, joy filled their hearts. They spoke to Uddhava, recalling the message he had brought. “By fortune,” the gopīs said, “the wicked Kaṁsa, enemy of the Yadus, has been slain. By fortune, Acyuta is now safe, having achieved his aims with his kin. O gentle one, does the elder brother of Gadā, honored by the loving, bashful, smiling glances of the city women, bring them joy? How could he, who knows all the subtleties of love and is dear to the women of the city, not be captivated by their words and playful gestures?” They wondered, “O noble one, does Govinda ever remember us, the village women, among the city ladies in their intimate conversations? Do you recall those nights when he delighted with his beloveds in Vrindavan, amidst the beauty of lotus, jasmine, and moonlight—enjoying the rasa dance with the tinkling of anklets, and charming us with delightful stories?” “Will the descendant of Dasharha return here, afflicted by the sorrow of his own actions, and revive us with his touch, just as Indra rejuvenates the forest with rain? Why would Krishna come here now, having gained a kingdom, destroyed his enemies, married royal maidens, and surrounded by his dear friends? What purpose could we forest dwellers serve for the great soul, the Lord of Lakshmi, who has fulfilled all desires and is accomplished within himself?” Yet, even in resignation, hope lingered in their hearts. “Indeed, supreme happiness lies in freedom from expectation, as Pingala the courtesan once declared. Yet, even knowing this, our hope in Krishna is impossible to abandon. Who could bear to give up communion with the glorified Lord, even unwillingly, when fortune never leaves his limbs?” They gazed at the world around them. “These rivers, mountains, forests, cows, and the sound of the flute—all have been traversed by Krishna, accompanied by Sankarshana. Again and again, the abodes of Lakshmi remind us of Nanda’s son; by those footprints, we cannot forget him. With his graceful walk, noble laughter, playful glances, and sweet speech, he has captivated our minds—how could we ever forget him?” In their longing, they prayed, “O Lord, O consort of Lakshmi, O master of Vraja, destroyer of distress, lift up Gokula from the ocean of suffering in which it is submerged, O Govinda.” Śuka concluded: Thus, relieved of the fever of separation by Krishna’s message, the gopīs honored Uddhava, recognizing in him a manifestation of the Lord. Uddhava remained with them for several months, dispelling their grief, singing stories of Krishna’s pastimes, and bringing delight to the people of Gokula.