O noble one, do you think Govinda, in the midst of splendid city ladies and their intimate conversations, ever remembers us—the humble village women of Vraja? Do you recall those enchanting nights when he delighted with his beloveds in Vrindavan, surrounded by the fragrance of lotuses and jasmines, the gentle glow of the moon, and the melodious tinkling of anklets during the rasa dance? Sometimes, he would charm us with delightful stories, filling our hearts with joy. Will the descendant of Dasharha ever return to us, burdened by the sorrow caused by his own actions, and revive our lives with his touch, just as Indra rejuvenates the forests with rain? Yet, why would Krishna come here again, having attained his kingdom, vanquished his enemies, married royal maidens, and surrounded himself with dear friends? What need could he have for us forest dwellers, or for anyone else, when he, the Lord of Lakshmi, has fulfilled all desires and is complete within himself? Indeed, supreme happiness is said to lie 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 let go of communion with the Lord, whose beauty and fortune never depart from his form, even if one wished to? The rivers, mountains, forests, cows, and the sound of Krishna’s flute—all these, traversed by him and Sankarshana, constantly remind us of him, O master. Again and again, the very places where Lakshmi herself dwells remind us of Nanda’s son. His footprints are everywhere, making it impossible for us to forget him. His graceful walk, noble laughter, playful glances, and sweet words have captivated our minds—how could we ever forget him? O Lord, consort of Lakshmi, master of Vraja, destroyer of distress, please lift Gokula from the ocean of suffering in which it is submerged. Śuka then said: Relieved of the fever of separation by Krishna’s messages, the gopīs honored Uddhava, recognizing him as a manifestation of the Lord. He remained in Vraja for several months, dispelling their grief by singing stories of Krishna’s pastimes and delighting all of Gokula. For as many days as Uddhava stayed among them, the moments seemed to fly by for the residents, as they were absorbed in the news of Krishna. As Uddhava wandered through the rivers, forests, and blossoming trees, he remembered Krishna and found joy in serving the people of Vraja. Seeing the gopīs so deeply absorbed in Krishna, their minds overwhelmed with devotion, Uddhava, filled with supreme joy, bowed to them and sang these words: “These cowherd women are the highest among all embodied beings on earth, for their love for Govinda is deep within their hearts. Even sages, fearful of rebirth, and we ourselves long for such devotion—what use is birth as Brahma compared to tasting the nectar of Krishna’s stories? Where are these women, forest-dwellers, tainted by social transgressions, and where is this supreme love for Krishna, the Paramatma? Yet, even those ignorant who worship the Lord directly attain his 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 Krishna 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 are adorned with the lotus feet of Krishna—the Lord worshipped by Lakshmi and the greatest of 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, Yashoda, Nanda, and bidding farewell to the cowherds, Uddhava, preparing to depart, ascended his chariot. As he was about to leave, Nanda and the others, their hands full of various gifts, approached him with affection. Their eyes brimmed with tears as they spoke: “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 all auspicious acts and charity.” Thus honored by the cowherds, their hearts overflowing with devotion to Krishna, Uddhava returned to Mathura, protected by Krishna. He bowed to Krishna and, his heart full of love for the people of Vraja, offered gifts to Vasudeva, Balarama, and the king. Śuka then described how the Lord, the Soul of all, who knows the hearts of all beings, perceived the desire of Sairandhri (Kubja) and, wishing to please her, went to her house. Her home was opulently furnished, made beautiful for pleasure, adorned with pearl garlands, banners, canopies, beds, and seats. The air was fragrant with incense, bright with lamps, and decorated with garlands and perfumes. Seeing Krishna enter, Kubja, flustered and excited, immediately rose from her seat, approached him as was proper, and, along 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. Kubja, having bathed, anointed herself, dressed in fine garments and ornaments, garlanded, perfumed, and having chewed betel, approached Madhava, her bashful, sidelong, smiling glances revealing her excitement. Krishna called his beloved, who was shy at their first meeting and hesitant, her hands adorned with bracelets; taking her by the hand, he seated her on the bed and enjoyed with her, she blessed by the merit of having anointed 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 considered unfortunate, asked him for a boon by offering him sandal paste: “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, Krishna, the Giver of Honor, along with Uddhava, returned to his own revered abode. Indeed, one who, by great worship, propitiates Vishnu, the Lord of all lords, and then chooses a boon pleasing only to the mind, if lacking in goodness, is of poor judgment. Then Krishna, together with Balarama and Uddhava, desiring to accomplish something and wishing to please Akrura, went to Akrura’s house.