How could Krishna, who so deeply understands the subtleties of love and is so dear to the women of the city, not be captivated by their words and playful gestures? The cowherd women of Vraja, their hearts aching with longing, wondered aloud: “O noble one, in the midst of the city ladies and their intimate conversations, does Govinda ever remember us, the simple village women?” Their thoughts drifted back to sweeter times. “Do you recall those nights,” they asked, “when he delighted among his beloveds in Vrindavan, surrounded by the beauty of lotuses and jasmines under the gentle moonlight? How he danced the rasa with us, anklets tinkling, sometimes enchanting us with delightful stories?” Their yearning deepened. “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?” Doubt crept in, too: “Why would Krishna come here now, having attained his kingdom, destroyed his enemies, married royal maidens, and surrounded himself with his dear friends? What purpose could we forest dwellers or others serve for the great soul, the Lord of Lakshmi, who has fulfilled all desires and is accomplished within himself?” Yet, even in their pain, they remembered the wisdom of Pingala the courtesan: “Supreme happiness lies in freedom from expectation.” But, they confessed, “even knowing this, our hope in Krishna is difficult to abandon. Who could bear to give up communion with the glorified Lord, even unwillingly, when fortune never departs from his limbs?” Everywhere they looked, reminders of Krishna appeared: “These rivers, mountains, forests, cows, and the sound of the flute—all have been traversed by Krishna, accompanied by Sankarshana. Again and again, the very abodes of Lakshmi remind us of Nanda’s son; by those footprints, we are unable to 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 sorrow, they prayed: “O Lord, O consort of Lakshmi, O master of Vraja, destroyer of distress, lift up Gokula, O Govinda, from the ocean of suffering in which it is submerged.” Śuka continued: Then, relieved of the fever of separation by Krishna’s messages, the gopīs honored Uddhava, recognizing him as a manifestation of the Lord. Uddhava stayed for several months, dispelling the grief of the gopīs by singing stories of Krishna’s pastimes and delighting Gokula. For as many days as Uddhava remained in Nanda’s Vraja, the moments for the residents passed swiftly, absorbed in news of Krishna. As Uddhava beheld the rivers, forests, and blossoming trees, he remembered Krishna and found joy in serving the people of Vraja. Seeing the gopīs so utterly absorbed in Krishna, their minds overwhelmed, Uddhava, filled with supreme joy, bowed to them and sang: “These cowherd women are the highest among embodied beings on earth, for their love for Govinda is deep within the heart. Even sages, fearful of rebirth, and we ourselves desire such devotion—what use is birth as Brahma compared to tasting the nectar of his stories? Where are these women, forest-dwellers, corrupted by transgression, and where is this supreme love for Krishna, the Paramatma? Truly, even those ignorant who worship the Lord directly attain blessing, just as a king bestows favor upon those who serve him. O friend, this grace of intense love is not found even among the heavenly women, fragrant as lotuses, nor among others; it arose at the rasa festival, when he embraced the necks of the beloveds of Vraja, granting them fulfillment. Oh, how I wish I could become even a blade of grass, a bush, a creeper, or a herb here in Vrindavan, so that I might receive the dust of the feet of those who, abandoning what is so hard to give up—their own kin and the path of the virtuous—have sought the path of Mukunda, which is searched for by the Vedas. Those whose breasts, adorned with the lotus feet of Krishna—the Lord, worshipped by Lakshmi and the greatest of the self-satisfied yogis, and who is the very goal of the rasa dance—have, by embracing Him, cast off all suffering. I bow again and again to the dust of the feet of the women of Nanda’s Vraja, whose singing of Hari’s glories purifies all the three worlds.” Śuka continued: Then, after taking leave of the gopīs, Yaśodā, Nanda, and bidding farewell to the cowherds, Uddhava, about to depart, ascended his chariot. As he was leaving, Nanda and the others, their hands full of various gifts, approached him with affection, their eyes filled with tears, and spoke to him: “May our minds always rest at the lotus feet of Krishna, may our words speak only His names, and may our bodies bow in His service. Though we are tossed about by our actions wherever the Lord’s will may send us, may our devotion to Krishna, the Lord, remain steady through auspicious acts and charity.” Thus honored by the cowherds with devotion to Krishna, Uddhava returned again to Mathurā, protected by Krishna. He bowed to Krishna and, his heart overflowing with devotion for the people of Vraja, offered gifts to Vasudeva, Rama, and the king. Śuka said: Then the Lord, the Soul of all, who sees everything, knowing the desire of Sairandhrī (Kubjā) and wishing to please her, went to her house. Her house was rich with splendid furnishings, enhanced for pleasure, adorned with pearl garlands, banners, canopies, beds, and seats, fragrant with incense, bright with lamps, and decorated with garlands and perfumes. Seeing Him enter, Kubjā, flustered, immediately rose from her seat, approached Him as was proper, and, together with her companions, honored Acyuta with a seat and other offerings. Uddhava, too, was respectfully welcomed and, after touching the seat, sat down; Krishna, following worldly custom, quickly entered the splendid bed. Kubjā, having bathed, anointed herself, dressed in fine garments and ornaments, garlanded, perfumed, and having chewed betel, approached Mādhava, her bashful, sidelong, smiling glances betraying her excitement. He called his beloved, who was shy at their first meeting and hesitant, her hand adorned with bracelets; taking her by the hand, He seated her on the bed and enjoyed with her, she blessed by the merit of anointing Him. Her breasts and heart burning with passion, her eyes longing, she inhaled the fragrance of His feet, massaged away her pains with them, and, embracing her beloved between her arms and breasts, found in the embodiment of bliss the end of her long suffering. Having attained Him, the Lord of liberation, so hard to attain, she, though unfortunate, asked Him for a boon by offering Him sandal paste. She pleaded, “Let my beloved stay here with me for a few days; enjoy with me, O lotus-eyed one, for I cannot bear to be parted from you.” Having granted her the boon she desired and having honored her, the Giver of Honor, along with Uddhava, the Lord of all, returned to His own revered abode. And it is said: He who, by great worship, propitiates Viṣṇu, the Lord of all lords, and then chooses a boon pleasing to the mind, if lacking in goodness, is of poor judgment.