With faces blooming in joy, the people of Dvaraka spoke to Krishna in voices choked with happiness, as children would to a father who was both their protector and dearest friend. They bowed before him, their Master, whose lotus feet are always worshipped by Brahma, Shiva, and Indra, recognizing him as the supreme refuge for all who seek well-being—a place where even time itself holds no sway. "For our welfare," they said, "you are the creator, sustainer, and protector of the universe. You are our mother, our friend, our lord, and our father. You are our true teacher and highest deity; by following you, we have found fulfillment." With hearts overflowing, they declared themselves truly blessed, for even the gods of heaven rarely beheld what their eyes now saw: Krishna’s face, radiant with loving smiles and glances, and his form adorned with all auspiciousness. They confessed that whenever Krishna departed for the lands of the Kurus or the Madhus to visit his friends, each moment of separation stretched as long as millions of ages, making life feel as empty as eyes bereft of the sun. Thus, as the people poured out their devotion, Krishna, ever affectionate to his devotees, listened with a gracious glance and entered the city. He was protected by the mighty Madhus, Bhojas, Dasharhas, Kukuras, Andhakas, and Vrishnis, all whose strength matched his own, and together they made the city secure, like serpents guarding the city of Bhogavati. In every season, Dvaraka shone with prosperity, surrounded by auspicious trees, creepers, hermitages, gardens, parks, and lotus ponds. At the city’s gates, doorways, and roads, festive arches were built and adorned with colorful flags and banners, shading the city from the sun. The grand avenues, streets, markets, and squares were swept clean, sprinkled with fragrant water, and decorated with fruits, flowers, and grains. At every doorstep, offerings of yogurt, grains, fruits, and sugarcane were set out in full pots, with incense and lamps burning brightly. Hearing of Krishna’s arrival, Vasudeva, noble-minded Akrura, Ugrasena, and Balarama of wondrous prowess, along with Pradyumna, Charudeshna, Samba (son of Jambavati), and many others, overwhelmed with joy, abandoned their beds, seats, and meals. Placing the lordly elephant at the front, and accompanied by Brahmins chanting auspicious hymns, the sounds of conch shells and trumpets, and the recitation of Vedic verses, they joyfully approached with chariots, their hearts full of affection and awe. Hundreds of leading elephants, adorned with shining earrings and radiant cheeks, added to the city’s splendor as they eagerly awaited Krishna’s sight. Dancers, actors, Gandharvas, bards, Magadhas, and singers all sang of Krishna’s wondrous deeds and glorious stories. As Krishna moved among his relatives and citizens, he approached each according to custom and honored them all. With humble greetings, embraces, hand-touches, and smiling glances, he comforted those who had been away and granted boons to others. Together with elders, priests, wives, and aged relatives, Krishna received blessings and entered the city, accompanied by the chanting of singers. As Krishna proceeded along the royal road of Dvaraka, the noble women of the city ascended to the rooftops of their mansions, eager for the festival of his sight. Though the residents gazed at Krishna constantly, their eyes were never satisfied, for he was the very abode of fortune and the source of all beauty. His chest was the dwelling place of Lakshmi, his face the very delight of the eyes, his arms the guardians of the world, and his lotus feet the refuge of the virtuous. Adorned with white parasols and fans, showered with fresh flowers along his path, clad in yellow garments and a garland of forest blossoms, Krishna shone like the sun surrounded by clouds, a rainbow, and lightning. Entering his parents’ house, he was embraced by his mothers, and with joy bowed his head to Devaki and the other seven mothers. These women, overflowing with affection, lifted Krishna onto their laps and, overwhelmed with joy, bathed him in tears. Krishna then entered his own unsurpassed palace, fulfilling every desire, where there were sixteen thousand mansions for his wives. When his wives, after a time of separation, saw their beloved return, they rose at once from their seats and beds, their hearts alight with festival joy, their faces and eyes cast down in modesty due to their vows. Though their feelings were difficult to restrain, these noble ladies of the Bhṛgu line embraced Krishna with their children, gazing at him with inner longing; even as they tried to hold back, tears of bashful emotion flowed from their eyes. Even when Krishna was right beside them in private, his feet appeared ever new to them at every step; what woman could ever turn away from his feet, when even the restless goddess of fortune never abandons them? In this way, after causing enmity among the kings—those born as the burden of the earth and whose power was turned against each other with their armies—Krishna, like the wind extinguishing fire, brought about their mutual destruction and then stood apart, weaponless. The Lord, by his own power, descended into this world of men and, surrounded by the choicest of women, enjoyed himself as if he were an ordinary man. Even Cupid himself, bewildered by their passionate glances, bashful smiles, and sidelong looks, put aside his bow; yet these foremost women, with all their charms, could not disturb Krishna’s senses with their wiles. People, ignorant of his true nature, considered Krishna attached, though he was ever unattached, judging him by their own standards as they saw him engaged in worldly affairs. But such is the sovereignty of the Lord: though he dwells in nature, he is never bound by its qualities, just as the intelligence of one who takes refuge in him is not affected by those qualities. Foolish women, unable to measure their Lord, thought of him as their own man, devoted to them in private, just as ordinary minds mistake the infinite Lord for something limited. Krishna and Balarama, too, sometimes roared and bellowed like bulls in rut, imitating the cries of animals and playing together as if they were ordinary beings. Once, as Krishna and Balarama tended their calves with their friends on the bank of the Yamuna, a demon approached, intent on killing them. The demon had taken the form of a calf and mingled with the herd. Hari, feigning innocence, sat down slowly and pointed him out to Balarama. Then Acyuta seized the demon by his hind legs and tail, whirled him around, and threw him onto the top of a kapittha tree. The great-bodied demon, struck by the falling fruits, fell lifeless. The astonished boys exclaimed, "Well done! Well done!" and the gods, greatly pleased, showered flowers from above.