Sūta continued his narration, describing how, as Lord Krishna approached the lands of Ānarta and his own flourishing kingdom, he sounded his resounding conch shell. Its powerful call seemed to sweep away the sorrows of the people, announcing his return. The conch, white-bellied and high-pitched, touched by the reddish lower lip of the mighty Lord and blown from his lotus-like hand, produced a sound as enchanting as the call of a swan amidst blooming lotuses. Hearing this fear-dispelling blast, all the people, hearts brimming with anticipation, hurried forth to catch a glimpse of their beloved Lord. Gathered together, their spirits revived, they honored Krishna as one would revere a lamp shining in the darkness, feeling ever content and fulfilled simply by his presence. Their faces bloomed with joy, and their voices, choked with emotion, addressed him with the affection of children greeting a father who is both their protector and dearest friend. They said, “We bow to you, O Master, whose lotus feet are always worshipped by Brahma, Shiva, and Indra. You are the supreme refuge for all who seek well-being, untouched even by Time itself, the lord of all. “For our welfare, you are the creator, sustainer, and protector of the universe; you are our mother, friend, lord, and father. You are our true teacher and highest deity—by following you, we have become accomplished. Truly, we are blessed by your presence, for even the gods of heaven rarely behold what we see: your face, radiant with loving smiles and glances, and your form adorned with every auspicious mark. “O lotus-eyed one, whenever you went to the Kurus or the Madhus to visit your friends, every moment of your absence felt as long as millions of ages, as if our eyes were deprived of the sun, O Acyuta.” As the people spoke thus, Krishna, ever affectionate to his devotees, listened to their words and blessed them with his gracious glance before entering the city. The city was well protected by the Madhus, Bhojas, Dasharhas, Kukuras, Andhakas, and Vrishnis, all of whom possessed strength equal to his own, making the city as secure as Bhogavati, the serpent city, is guarded by its serpents. In every season, Dvaraka shone with prosperity, surrounded by auspicious trees, flowering creepers, hermitages, gardens, parks, and lotus-filled ponds. The city sparkled with splendor. At the gates, doorways, and along the roads, festive arches had been erected, adorned with colorful flags and banners, shading the city from the sun’s glare. The grand avenues, markets, and squares had been swept clean and sprinkled with fragrant water, and decorated with fruits, flowers, and grains. At each house, the doorways were adorned with yogurt, grains, fruits, sugarcane, full pots, offerings, incense, and lamps. When news spread that their beloved Krishna was arriving, Vasudeva, the noble-minded, Akrura, Ugrasena, Rama of wondrous prowess, Pradyumna, Charudeshna, Samba—the son of Jambavati—and all the others, overwhelmed with joy, leapt from their beds, seats, and meals. Placing the lordly elephant at the front, accompanied by Brahmins chanting auspicious hymns, and with the sound of conch shells and trumpets, the noble family and their retinue, honored by Vedic chants, approached Krishna with chariots, their hearts filled with affection and awe. Hundreds of leading elephants, eager for a glimpse of the Lord, with shining ornaments and radiant faces, added to the grandeur. Dancers, actors, Gandharvas, bards, Magadhas, and singers filled the air with songs recounting Krishna’s wondrous deeds and glories. As Krishna moved among his relatives and citizens, he greeted each according to custom and honored them all. With humble salutations, affectionate embraces, hand-clasps, and smiling glances, he comforted those who had been away and granted boons to others. He himself, accompanied by elders, priests, wives, and aged relatives, received blessings from others and entered the city, with singers leading the way. As Krishna proceeded along the royal road of Dvaraka, the noble ladies of the city ascended to their balconies and rooftops, eager for the joyous festival of beholding his form. Though the residents of Dvaraka gazed upon him constantly, their eyes were never sated, for he is the very abode of fortune and the source of all beauty. His chest was the dwelling place of the goddess of fortune, his face the vessel for the eyes to drink, his arms the protectors of the world, and his lotus feet the refuge of the virtuous. He was adorned with white parasols and fans, showered with fresh flowers along the path. Clad in yellow garments and a garland of forest flowers, he shone like the sun surrounded by clouds, a rainbow, and lightning. Upon entering his parents’ house, Krishna was embraced by his mothers, and he bowed joyfully to Devaki and the other seven. The mothers, their breasts wet with affection, lifted their son onto their laps and, overwhelmed with joy, bathed him with tears from their eyes. Thereafter, he entered his own unparalleled palace, which fulfilled every desire and contained sixteen thousand mansions for his wives. When his wives, after a time apart from their husband, saw him return, they rose at once from their seats and beds, their hearts filled with festival-like joy, their faces and eyes cast down in modesty due to their vows. Though their feelings were hard to restrain, these noble ladies of the Bhṛgu line embraced their husband with their children, gazing at him with inner longing. Even as they tried to hold back, tears flowed from their eyes out of bashful emotion. Even when he was right beside them in private, his lotus feet seemed ever new to them at every step; for which woman could ever turn away from his feet, when even the restless goddess of fortune never abandons them? Thus, after causing enmity among the kings—who were born as the burden of the earth and whose power was turned against each other in battle—Krishna, like the wind extinguishing fire, brought about their mutual destruction and then stood apart, weaponless. The Lord, though descended into this world of men by his own power, surrounded by the choicest of women, enjoyed himself as if he were an ordinary man. Even Cupid himself, confounded by their passionate glances, bashful smiles, and sidelong looks, set aside his bow—yet these foremost women, with all their charms, could not disturb Krishna’s senses by their wiles. People, not knowing his true nature, imagined him to be attached, judging him by their own standards simply because he engaged in worldly affairs. But this is the sovereignty of the Lord: though he dwells in the world, he is never bound by its qualities, just as the mind of one who takes refuge in him is not affected by those qualities. Foolish women, not knowing the measure of their Lord, thought of him as their own beloved, devoted to them in private, just as ordinary minds mistake the Lord for something limited. And thus, Krishna and his brother Balarama, roaring and bellowing like bulls in rut, would sometimes imitate the cries of animals and play together, appearing just like ordinary beings to those around them.