Having gained this rare human birth, if one allows the senses to wander uncontrolled and fails to honor your feet, O Lord, such a person is truly to be pitied, for he deceives his very self. Abandoning you, the beloved Self of all, and running after fleeting sense pleasures is like forsaking nectar for poison. I, Brahma, along with the gods and the pure-minded sages, have all surrendered our hearts and souls to you, the dearest Lord. You are the cause of creation, preservation, and dissolution of the worlds—equal to all, tranquil, the friend, the very Self, and the supreme God. You alone are the nondual source of the universe. Therefore, O Lord, we worship you, seeking liberation from the endless cycle of birth and death. This devotee is dear to me, beloved and obedient; I have granted him fearlessness, O Lord. May your favor rest upon him, just as you showed mercy to the lord of the Daityas. The Blessed Lord replied, “O revered one, whatever you speak, I shall do. What pleases you is agreeable and approved by me.” “This son of Virocana, an Asura, is not to be slain by me; for a boon was granted to Prahlada, and so neither he nor your lineage shall be killed by my hand. To humble his pride, I have broken his arms, and his vast army, which burdened the earth, has been destroyed by me. Four arms remain to him; he will be ageless and immortal, chief among your attendants, and, O Asura, he shall have no fear from anywhere.” Thus, having received fearlessness, the Asura bowed his head to Krishna, placed Pradyumna on the chariot with his wife, and brought him forward. Surrounded by a division of his army, adorned in fine garments and ornaments, with his wife beside him, he departed, honored by Rudra. He entered his royal city, resplendent with flags, gateways, and guarded crossroads, as the sounds of conchs, trumpets, and drums filled the air, and he was welcomed by citizens, friends, and the twice-born. Whoever remembers Krishna’s victory and his battle with Shankara, rising in the morning, will never suffer defeat. Thus ends the sixty-third chapter, “The Bringing of Aniruddha,” in the tenth canto, second half, of the holy Bhagavata Mahapurana, the scripture of the supreme swan. Now, Śrī Śuka continued: O best of the Kurus, Lord Balarāma, eager to see his dear friends, mounted his chariot and journeyed to Nanda’s Gokula. There, he was embraced long and lovingly by the cowherds and the cowherd women, who had yearned for him in his absence. Rama bowed to his parents, and they blessed him joyfully. “May you and your brother, O Lord of the universe, always protect us, O Dāśārha,” they said, lifting him onto their laps, embracing him, and bathing him with tears of affection. Rama respectfully greeted the elder cowherds, honoring each according to their age, friendship, and relationship to himself. Then, as he sat comfortably at ease, the cowherd men gathered around and, with laughter, handshakes, and gestures of affection, asked him about his welfare. Rama, his voice choked with affection, inquired after their well-being and that of their families, for in Krishna, whose eyes are like lotus petals, all their burdens had been placed. “O Rama, are all your relatives well? Do you, with your wives and children, still remember us?” they asked. “By good fortune, the wicked Kamsa has been slain; by good fortune, your friends have been freed; by good fortune, having defeated your enemies, you have taken shelter in a stronghold.” The cowherd women, delighted to see Rama, laughed and asked, “Is Krishna, beloved of the city women, living happily? Does he remember his relatives, his father and mother? Will he ever come, even once, to see his mother? Or does that mighty-armed one remember our service to him?” “For whose sake, O Dāśārha, did you, O Lord, abandon your mother, father, brothers, husbands, sons, and even sisters—your dearest kin? He left us suddenly, severing our bonds of affection. How, then, could such a one be trusted by women to keep his word?” “How could the women of the city, wise as they are, accept the words of one so inconstant and ungrateful? Yet, enchanted by his charming stories, smiles, glances, and sighs, they do accept him, lovesick as they are. What use is there for us, O cowherd women, in talking of him? Let us speak of other things. Time passes for us in his absence, if it passes for him as it does for us.” Yet, remembering Krishna’s playful words, his lovely glances, his movements, and his loving embraces, the women wept. Lord Sankarshana, skilled in many ways of persuasion, comforted them with heartfelt messages from Krishna. There, Rama remained for two months—Madhu and Madhava—bringing delight to the gopis during the nights. Bathed in the full moon’s light, with the fragrance of night-blooming lotuses carried on the breeze, he enjoyed himself in the groves by the Yamuna, surrounded by groups of women who served him. At that time, sent by Varuna, the goddess Varuni emerged from the hollow of a tree, her fragrance filling the entire forest as she descended. Bala, inhaling the scent of the honey-stream carried by the wind, approached and drank together with the women, using his tongue. As Gandharvas sang, in a circle adorned by beautiful women, the lord of the elephant herd enjoyed himself, like Indra among elephants. Drums resounded in the sky, flowers rained down in joy, and Gandharvas and sages praised Rama for his deeds. The women sang of his exploits, and Halayudha wandered through the forests, intoxicated, his eyes unsteady with delight. He was adorned with a garland, a single earring, the Vaijayanti wreath, and his smiling face shone like a lotus, embellished with drops of sweat like frost. Intoxicated, he summoned the Yamuna for water games, but, disregarding his own words, he called out to the river. When she did not come, angered, he dragged her with the tip of his plough, saying, “O sinful one, you have disregarded me though I called you; I will lead you with the tip of my plough, you who wander as you please.