In the blessed city of Kuśasthalī, a place so glorious that it eclipsed even the heavens and sanctified the earth, the people rejoiced in an extraordinary fortune: by the Lord’s grace, they beheld their beloved Kṛṣṇa’s smiling, compassionate face at every moment. The women of this city, it was said, must surely have worshipped the Lord with steadfast vows, sacred baths, offerings, and countless observances, for He had chosen them as His wives. These women, like those of Vraja before them, became utterly absorbed in Him, their hearts captivated by the nectar of His affectionate words. Among them were those princesses whom Kṛṣṇa had won at their own svayamvara—having subdued mighty kings like Śiśupāla—and others, daughters of kings such as Pradyumna and Samba, whom He had rescued by slaying the demon Bhauma. In this way, thousands of royal maidens were brought to Him. Though these women had set aside all worldly decorum and purity, they attained the highest fulfillment of womanhood, for their lotus-eyed husband, Kṛṣṇa, never left their homes; His presence filled their hearts with joy. As the women of the city spoke in admiration and wonder, Hari, the Lord Himself, acknowledged their words with a gentle smile and a loving glance, then continued on His way. Out of deep affection and concern for Kṛṣṇa’s safety, Ajātaśatru—Yudhiṣṭhira—deployed his fourfold army to protect the enemy of Madhu from any possible threats. Śauri, seeing the Kauravas who had come from afar and were sorrowful at the prospect of separation, gently persuaded them to return to their own lands. With His beloveds, He set off for His own city. Passing through the regions of the Kurus, Jāngalas, Pāñcālas, Śūrasenas, the lands along the Yamunā, Brahmāvarta, Kurukṣetra, Matsyas, and Sārasvatas, Kṛṣṇa journeyed on. Crossing the desert of Marudhanva, He traveled through the territories of the Sauvīras and Ābhīras, and finally to Ānarta, accompanied by Bhārgava, His horses somewhat weary from the long journey. At every place along the way, Hari was honored by the local people. As evening approached, He turned westward, seeking pasture, and entered the land of the cows. There, those who had been blessed by the sight of the Lord, by the grace of the sage, approached and prayed, “O Supreme Lord, permit us, Your servants and attendants, to depart; by the sage’s grace, we have been blessed with the sight of the Lord.” Their hearts overflowing with devotion, they prayed further: “May our speech ever recount Your virtues, our ears delight in hearing Your stories, our hands be engaged in Your service, our minds rest at Your feet; may our heads bow in remembrance to You, the abode of the universe, and may our eyes behold the holy ones who embody You.” Śuka then described how, as these two praised Him, the Lord of Gokula—Kṛṣṇa, who was once bound to the mortar by a rope—smiled and spoke to the celestial beings. The Blessed Lord said, “This was already known to Me, revealed by the compassionate sage: that, by the words of those blinded by wealth, you were deprived of your position and thus received My grace. For those who are virtuous, even-minded, and wholly devoted to Me, there is no bondage from seeing Me, just as the sun does not bind the eyes of men. Now go to your own abode, O Nalakūbara, for the supreme devotion you both desired for Me has arisen in your hearts.” Thus addressed, the two circumambulated the Lord, bowed again and again, took leave of the bound mortar, and departed northward. In this way, the Supreme Lord revealed Himself through devotion; without such devotion, even the wise cannot behold Him. His actions, His birth, and all such things are not subject to the laws that govern others; they are ascribed to Him by Māyā, only to dispel the notion of agency. This account, Śuka explained, takes place in the kalpa of Brahmā, which is described as having various distinctions, and in which the general process of creation unfolds, both primary and secondary. “I will now explain the measure of time, the form that marks a kalpa, and, as before, describe the Padma Kalpa—please listen.” At this point, Śaunaka spoke: “O Sūta, you told us that Vidura, the foremost devotee, left behind his most difficult-to-abandon relatives and wandered to holy places on earth. The conversation between Vidura, son of Vyāsa, and the sage Kauśārava was based on spiritual inquiry; or, that great soul, when questioned, spoke the truth to him. Gentle one, please tell us what Vidura did, and for what reason he renounced his family and then returned again.” Sūta replied, “What the great sage replied when King Parīkṣit asked him, I will now relate to you—listen, as it follows the king’s questions.” The king had asked, “In which action of the Lord, the maker of the universe and my own self, was his fame increased by Kṛṣṇa? Please describe this.” Śrī Nārada then recounted: “When the demons were defeated in battle by the gods, who drew their strength from Kṛṣṇa, the demons sought refuge with Maya, the supreme master of illusion. Maya, powerful and resourceful, constructed three cities—one of gold, one of silver, and one of iron—joined by subtle means and armed with unimaginable defenses. With these cities, the armies of the demons, along with their lords, remembering their ancient enmity, began to ravage the three worlds. The rulers of the worlds, along with their lords, approached the Lord, bowed down, and pleaded: ‘Protect us, O God! We are being destroyed by the inhabitants of Tripura.’ The Lord, showing them favor, reassured them, ‘Do not fear,’ and, stringing an arrow to His bow, released a weapon upon the cities. Arrows blazing like fire arose from the solar orb; swift as rays of light, they were invisible as they sped toward the cities. Struck by these arrows, all the inhabitants of the cities lost their lives and fell. But Maya, the great yogī, gathered them and cast them into a well of nectar. Touched by the nectar of immortality, they, strong as thunderbolts and full of great energy, rose again, splitting the clouds like flashes of lightning. Seeing his resolve broken and Vṛṣadhvaja disheartened, Lord Viṣṇu devised another means. At that time, Brahmā became the calf, Viṣṇu Himself became the cow, and, entering Tripura at the right moment, they drank the nectar from the well. Though the demons saw this, they did not prevent it, being deluded by illusion. Realizing what had happened, the great yogī Maya spoke to the guardians of the nectar, smiling and free from sorrow. He remembered those afflicted by grief and the workings of destiny, knowing that for god, demon, human, or any other, none is truly independent. What is ordained for oneself or another cannot be averted by either, for fate prevails. Then, with his own powers, Maya performed the principal act of Shiva. Through righteousness, knowledge, detachment, prosperity, austerity, learning, and action, he manifested the chariot, charioteer, banner, horses, bow, armor, arrows, and all that was needed for the final destruction of the cities.” Thus, the story unfolds—revealing the Lord’s wondrous acts, the power of devotion, and the mysterious workings of fate and divine play.