"O Lord," the sage said with deep reverence, "grant me leave to depart for those worlds resounding with Your glory. I wish to wander there, singing Your playful deeds—those very acts that purify the universe." Krishna, the Blessed Lord, replied with gentle assurance: "My son, do not grieve. Know that I am the very speaker and agent of the householders’ duties. With their approval I act, teaching the world by example, upholding these responsibilities. Thus have I taken up this world." Śuka continued the tale: As the sage practiced the pure and sanctifying duties of a householder, he beheld the Lord manifest in every home—Krishna, abiding everywhere, the one who is all-pervading. Time and again, the sage witnessed Krishna’s wondrous yoga-maya, His divine power without limit. Each vision left the sage astonished, his heart swelling with curiosity and awe at the Lord’s greatness. So it was that Krishna, ever honoring the sage and devoted to the duties of prosperity, pleasure, and righteousness, bid him farewell. The sage departed, his heart content, remembering only Krishna. Thus, Lord Narayana, who had assumed human life for the sake of all beings, delighted Himself among His sixteen thousand chosen queens, surrounded by their bashful, affectionate glances and smiles. Whatever Hari did in this world—those acts which are the very cause of creation and dissolution, which have no aim but His own play—whoever sings, hears, or approves of them, O dear one, finds devotion arising in their heart, walking the path of liberation. Thus ends the sixty-ninth chapter, ‘The Vision of Krishna’s Household Life,’ in the tenth book of the Śrīmad Bhāgavatam, the great Purāṇa, the scripture of the supreme swan. Śuka resumed: Then, as dawn approached and the roosters crowed, the wives, distressed by separation, were again embraced by their husbands. The birds, awakening, seemed to sing Krishna’s praises, their melodies sleepless, stirred by the gentle breezes from the Mandara forest. For a moment, Vaidarbhi, having nestled in her beloved’s arms, could not bear the beautiful pain of separation from His embrace. At the sacred Brahma hour, Mādhava, with a tranquil mind, rose and touched water. He meditated upon Himself—the one beyond darkness, self-luminous, unique, imperishable, and eternally pure by His own nature. This is Brahman, whose creation and dissolution are by His own powers, whose bliss shines forth through all energies. After bathing in pure water and donning clean garments, Krishna, the most virtuous, performed the sequence of daily rituals. He offered fire, recited sacred mantras with controlled speech, and, facing the rising sun, honored the portions of His own self. He worshipped the gods, sages, ancestors, elders, and Brahmins, ever self-possessed. He gave to the Brahmins cows with golden horns—virtuous, adorned with pearl garlands, yielding milk, healthy, with calves and fine clothing. Day after day, He bestowed upon the decorated Brahmins cows with silver-tipped hooves, along with linen, deerskins, and sesame seeds. He bowed before cows, Brahmins, deities, elders, teachers, and all living beings. Touching auspicious objects born from Himself, He invoked blessings. He adorned Himself—the ornament of mankind—with His own garments, jewels, divine garlands, and fragrant ointments. He observed the sacrificial fire and the mirror, gave gifts to cows, bulls, Brahmins, and deities, and fulfilled the desires of all—citizens and the women of the palace—pleasing them and receiving their blessings in return. He distributed garlands, betel nut, and ointments first to the Brahmins, then to friends, attendants, and wives, and only afterwards enjoyed them Himself. Meanwhile, Suta, the charioteer, brought forth a wondrous chariot yoked with noble horses like Sugriva and others, and stood before Krishna after offering obeisance. Taking Suta’s hand, Krishna ascended the chariot, accompanied by Satyaki and Uddhava, shining like the sun rising over the eastern mountain. The women of the palace gazed at Him with bashful, loving glances, their hearts ensnared; with difficulty they let Him go, and He departed, smiling and captivating their hearts. Surrounded by all the Vrishnis, Krishna entered the assembly hall called Sudharma, where those present are free from the six waves of suffering. Seated upon the highest throne, the Lord shone with His own radiance, illuminating all directions. Surrounded by the heroic Yadus, He appeared like the moon amidst the stars in the heavens. There, the master of ceremonies and the dance teachers approached Krishna with laughter and joy, and the dancers performed distinct tandava dances. The sounds of mridanga, vina, muraja, flute, and cymbals filled the air as they danced, sang, and praised Him. Sutas, Magadhas, and bards offered their eulogies. Meanwhile, Brahmins, learned in the Vedas and seated in honor, narrated the stories of virtuous kings of old. Then, O King, a man of unprecedented appearance arrived. Announced by the doorkeepers, he was ushered before Bhagavan Krishna. Bowing with joined palms, he reported to the assembled kings the distress caused by Jarasandha’s imprisonment. He explained that those kings who had not submitted to Jarasandha’s conquest were forcibly detained; now, two groups of ten thousand are held captive in Girivraja. The captive kings sent their plea: “Krishna, Krishna, immeasurable soul, destroyer of the fears of those who seek refuge, we come to You for shelter, fearful of worldly existence and divided in mind. The world is awash in unrighteous deeds, heedless of virtue; yet this action, arising from You, is for worshipping You. Whoever here, strong as he may be, suddenly cuts off the hope of life for the sleepless one—salutations to him. You, O Lord, have descended for the protection of the righteous and the subjugation of the wicked. Who can transgress Your command? Who attains the fruit of their own actions? We know not. The happiness of kings is but a dream, dependent on others; ever burdened by fear, we bear the yoke of a life as good as dead. Abandoning the happiness found in You, which is attainable without anxiety, we suffer greatly—how pitiable we are, deluded by Your māyā in this world. Therefore, may You, whose feet remove the sorrow of those who take refuge, release us who are bound by the Magadhan’s deeds. You alone, with the strength of ten thousand elephants, restrained the king who, like a lion among beasts, confined us in his palace. He, proud and delighting in conquest, was repeatedly defeated by You—O Lord of infinite power—when You broke his noble disc in battle twenty-two times. Now he afflicts Your people; O unconquered One, please act accordingly.” The messenger concluded: “Thus, held captive by the Magadhan and longing to see You, they have taken refuge at Your feet. Please grant well-being to these afflicted ones.” As the royal messenger spoke, the divine sage Nārada, radiant and bearing tawny matted locks, suddenly appeared, shining forth like the sun.