Arjuna, having been cursed by the Brahmana sage, relied on his knowledge and determination and set out immediately for Samyamanī, the realm of Lord Yama, seeking the Brahmana’s lost sons. When he did not find them there, he traveled, fully armed, to the city of Indra, and then to the abodes of Agni, Nirriti, Soma, Vayu, and Varuna. His search continued as he journeyed to Rasatala, to the heavens, and to the domains of other deities, always bearing his weapons. Yet, despite his efforts, he could not find the Brahmana’s sons. Unable to fulfill his promise, Arjuna, in deep despair, resolved to enter fire, but Krishna intervened and stopped him. Krishna comforted Arjuna, saying, “I will show you the Brahmana’s sons. Do not demean yourself. Blessed are those who establish our pure fame.” With these words, the Lord, accompanied by Arjuna, mounted his divine chariot and set out toward the western direction. Their journey was extraordinary. Krishna, the most exalted, led Arjuna across the seven continents, the seven oceans, and the seven mountains, even passing beyond Lokāloka and entering further within. There, O best of the Bharatas, the chariot’s horses—Śaibya, Sugrīva, Meghapuṣpa, and Balāhaka—lost their way, becoming engulfed in impenetrable darkness. Witnessing this, Krishna, the Lord of all yogic masters, sent forth his Sudarśana discus, radiant as a thousand suns, ahead of them. The Sudarśana, swift as the mind, pierced the vast, dense, and terrifying darkness, its brilliance splitting it apart, just as Rāma’s arrow would cleave through an army, freed from its qualities. Through the path opened by the discus, Arjuna beheld a supreme, boundless light beyond the darkness. The brilliance was so overwhelming that he closed his eyes, unable to bear its intensity. Carried by the wind, he entered waters adorned with great waves, and there he saw a wondrous, radiant palace shining with thousands of columns of brilliant gems. Within this palace rested a magnificent, infinite serpent, with a thousand heads. Its hoods were adorned with radiant gems, shining brilliantly, its two fierce eyes white as a mountain, and its tongue blue-black. Upon the serpent’s comfortable seat, Arjuna saw the all-pervading Lord, of supreme majesty—the highest among persons. The Lord was dark as a dense raincloud, clad in yellow garments, with a serene face and beautiful, wide eyes. He was adorned with a crown and earrings of great jewels. His thousand curling locks were encircled by a radiant aura. Eight long, graceful arms bore the Kaustubha gem, marked with Śrīvatsa, and he was garlanded with a wreath from the forest. Acyuta bowed to the infinite Self, and Arjuna, overwhelmed with awe, did likewise. Then the Lord of great lords, with joined palms and a smiling, powerful voice, addressed them. The Supreme Lord said, “Desiring to see you both, I brought the Brahmana’s sons here to preserve righteousness on earth. You, incarnations of My portion, should quickly return after destroying the burden of evil on earth. Though your desires are fulfilled, you two—Nara and Nārāyaṇa, foremost sages—practice righteousness for the stability of the world and the welfare of all people.” Thus instructed by the Supreme Lord, the two Kṛṣṇas, bowing with the sacred utterance ‘Om,’ took the Brahmana’s sons and the great Lord and departed. Filled with joy, they returned to their abode as before, and restored the sons to the Brahmana, each according to his form and age. Hearing of that Vaiṣṇava realm, Pārtha was utterly amazed. He realized that whatever prowess men possess is due to Krishna’s compassion. Thus, Krishna displayed many such deeds, enjoying worldly pleasures and performing sacrifices surpassing all others. He bestowed all desired blessings upon the people—Brahmanas and others—at the proper times, just as Lord Indra showers rain upon the earth after attaining supremacy. Having slain the unrighteous kings and caused their destruction through Arjuna and others, Krishna swiftly established dharma by means of the sons of Dharma and their companions. Śuka continued: Dwelling happily in his own city, Dvārakā, the Lord of fortune enjoyed every prosperity, surrounded by the foremost of the Vṛṣṇis. The women there were adorned in splendid attire, radiant with the charm of youthful beauty, playing with balls and other games in the palaces, shining like flashes of lightning. The streets were always bustling, filled with intoxicated elephants, warriors, horses, and chariots gleaming with gold, all splendidly decorated. In gardens and groves rich with blossoming rows of trees, the air was filled with the songs of bees and birds. Krishna enjoyed himself as the sole beloved of sixteen thousand wives, each in their magnificent homes, displaying wondrous forms. In pure waters scented by the pollen of fully bloomed lotuses, lilies, and blue water-lilies, and among the chirping flocks of birds, he sported, entering the lakes, his body smeared with saffron from their breasts, embraced by the women. He was sung to by Gandharvas, accompanied by joyful playing of drums, cymbals, and kettledrums, while bards, genealogists, and singers played the lute. Acyuta was sprinkled by those women, laughing with playful gestures, and he sported as they sprinkled him, like the lord of the Yakṣas among Yakṣīs. Their garments soaked and their broad breasts exposed, the women sprinkled him with large handfuls of flowers, embraced their beloved with playful intent, their faces radiant with smiles born of awakened longing. Krishna, his chest adorned by garlands smeared with saffron, his hair loosened from the play and embraces, repeatedly sprinkled by the young women, enjoyed himself surrounded like an elephant by female elephants. Krishna gave ornaments and garments for play to the dancers, dancing women, singers, and musicians, as well as to the women themselves. As Krishna enjoyed thus, with smiles and glances that responded to their movements, with playful jokes and embraces, the minds of the women were utterly captivated. They spoke, their minds fixed solely on Mukunda, their words incoherent like those of the intoxicated or dull-witted, thinking of the lotus-eyed one. Hear these as I recount them. The queens said: “O kurarī, you lament, sleepless, not resting; the Lord of the world sleeps at night, hidden from our awareness. Are you, like us, friend, pierced deeply in heart by the generous glances and smiles of the lotus-eyed one? You close your eyes at night, unseen by your companion, and cry out plaintively, O cakravākī. We, too, have attained servitude at Acyuta’s feet; or do you long for a garland to wear in your hair?