In the midst of a great confrontation, one of the sages addressed the Lord, saying, “O Lord, he who abandons you—his own beloved self—and instead pursues the fleeting objects of the senses, acts against his own nature. Such a person consumes poison, forsaking nectar.” With deep reverence, the sage continued, “I, Brahma, the gods, and the sages of pure mind—all of us have surrendered to you, our dearest Lord, with our whole being.” He praised the Lord, acknowledging him as the cause of creation, sustenance, and dissolution of the world, equal and tranquil, friend, self, and god—the sole, nondual source of the universe. “We worship you, O Lord, seeking liberation from the cycles of birth and death,” he declared. Then, with affection, the sage spoke of his devotee: “This one is dear to me, beloved and obedient. I have granted him fearlessness, O Lord; let your favor be bestowed upon him, just as you showed mercy to the lord of the daityas.” The Blessed Lord replied, “O revered one, whatever you say, I shall do what pleases you. Whatever you decide, that is agreeable and approved by me.” He explained, “This son of Virocana, an asura, is not to be slain even by me. A boon was granted to Prahlada, so neither he nor your lineage shall be killed by me. To humble his pride, I have broken his arms; his vast army, which burdened the earth, has been destroyed by me. Four of his arms remain; 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 an army division, adorned in fine garments and ornaments, with his wife beside him, he departed, honored by Rudra. He entered his royal city, splendid with flags, gateways, and guarded crossroads, amid the sounds of conch, trumpet, and drum, welcomed by citizens, friends, and the twice-born. It is said that whoever remembers Krishna’s victory and his battle with Shankara, rising in the morning, will never suffer defeat. Thus concludes the sixty-third chapter, entitled ‘The Bringing of Aniruddha,’ in the tenth canto, second half, of the holy Bhagavata Mahapurana, the scripture of the supreme swan. *** Later, Śuka spoke to the best of the Kurus: Lord Balarāma, eager to see his dear friends, mounted his chariot and journeyed to Nanda’s Gokula. There, the cowherds and cowherd women, who had long yearned for him, embraced him for a long time. Rāma bowed to his parents and was joyfully blessed by them. With tears in their eyes, they lifted him onto their laps, embracing him, and said, “May you and your brother, O Lord of the universe, protect us always, O Dāśārha.” Rāma respectfully greeted the elder cowherds, who were seated according to custom, each according to their age, friendship, and relationship to himself. Approaching the cowherd men, he exchanged laughter, handshakes, and other gestures. Those who had gathered around asked him, as he sat comfortably at ease, and he in turn asked after their well-being and that of their families, his voice choked with affection. For in Krishna, whose eyes are like lotus petals, all their burdens had been placed. They asked, “O Rāma, are all your relatives well? Do you, with your wives and children, still remember us? By good fortune, the wicked Kaṃsa 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 by the sight of Rāma, 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?” They lamented, “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.” Finally, they sighed, “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 the playful words, the lovely glances, the movements, and the loving embraces of Śauri, the women wept. Lord Saṅkarṣaṇa, skilled in many ways of persuasion, comforted them with heartfelt messages from Krishna. Rāma remained in Gokula for two months—Madhu and Mādhava—bringing delight to the gopīs during the nights. Bathed in the light of the full moon, with the fragrance of night-blooming lotuses carried by the breeze, he enjoyed himself in the groves by the Yamunā, surrounded by groups of women who served him. Sent by Varuna, the goddess Varuni emerged from the hollow of a tree, and as she descended, her fragrance filled the entire forest. Bala inhaled the scent of the honey-stream, carried by the wind, and approached there, drinking 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. His exploits were sung by the women, and Halayudha wandered through the forests, intoxicated, his eyes unsteady from delight. Adorned with a garland, a single earring, intoxicated, wearing the Vaijayanti wreath, displaying a smiling lotus-like face, embellished with drops of sweat like frost. The lord summoned the Yamuna for water games, but Bala, disregarding his own words, intoxicated, 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.” Thus rebuked, frightened, Yamuna spoke trembling words to the son of Yadu, falling at his feet, O King.