The people of Dvaraka gazed upon Krishna with hearts overflowing, feeling themselves truly blessed. Even the gods of heaven, they said, rarely behold what they now saw: his radiant face, adorned with loving smiles and glances, and his form shining with every auspicious mark. They spoke to him with reverence, “O lotus-eyed one, whenever you journeyed to the lands of the Kurus or the Madhus to visit your friends, each moment of your absence stretched before us like millions of ages. It was as if our eyes were bereft of the sun, O Acyuta.” As the people expressed their devotion in this way, the Lord, ever affectionate to his devotees, listened attentively and bestowed his gracious glances upon them. With gentle affection, he entered the city. Dvaraka, protected by the mighty Madhus, Bhojas, Dasharhas, Kukuras, Andhakas, and Vrishnis—each as strong as Krishna himself—stood secure, guarded like the city of Bhogavati by vigilant serpents. In every season, Dvaraka shone with prosperity. Auspicious trees, entwined creepers, peaceful hermitages, lush gardens, parks, and ponds blooming with lotuses filled the city with splendor. At every gate, doorway, and along the roads, festive arches had been raised, adorned with colorful flags and banners, keeping even the sunlight at bay with their shade. The grand avenues, streets, marketplaces, and squares had been swept clean and sprinkled with fragrant water. Everywhere, decorations of fruits, flowers, and grains abounded. At the doors of every home, full pots, offerings of yogurt, grains, fruits, and sugarcane, along with incense and lamps, made the city radiant. News of Krishna’s arrival spread swiftly. Vasudeva, noble-hearted, Akrura, Ugrasena, Rama of wondrous might, Pradyumna, Charudeshna, Samba the son of Jambavati—all these and more, overwhelmed with joy, abandoned their beds, seats, and even their meals to go forth and welcome him. At the forefront of the procession stood the lordly elephant, followed by Brahmins chanting auspicious hymns. The air was filled with the sound of conch shells and trumpets, and Vedic hymns resounded as they approached in chariots, their hearts full of affection and awe. Hundreds of regal elephants, adorned with shining earrings and radiant faces, added to the city’s splendor. Dancers, actors, Gandharvas, bards, Magadhas, and singers all joined in, singing of Krishna’s wondrous deeds and glorious stories. Amidst his relatives and the citizens who thronged to see him, Krishna approached each person according to custom, honoring all with humility. He greeted them with gentle words, warm embraces, the touch of his hand, and smiling glances. He comforted those who had been away, granted desired boons to others, and received blessings from elders, priests, wives, and aged relatives as he entered the city, accompanied by the sweet singing of praise. As Krishna proceeded along Dvaraka’s royal avenue, the noble women of the city hurried to the balconies of their mansions, eager for the great festival of beholding him. Though the people gazed upon him constantly, their eyes were never sated, for Krishna is the very abode of fortune and the source of all beauty. His chest is the dwelling place of the goddess of fortune; his face is a vessel for the eyes to drink; his arms protect the world; and his lotus feet are the refuge of the virtuous. Adorned with white parasols and fans, showered with fresh flowers along the path, clad in yellow garments and a forest garland, Krishna shone like the sun surrounded by clouds, a rainbow, and lightning. Entering his parents’ home, he was joyfully embraced by his mothers. Bowing his head in reverence to Devaki and the other seven, he received their loving affection. With tears of joy streaming from their eyes, the women lifted their son onto their laps, their hearts overflowing. Then Krishna entered his own unparalleled palace, a place that fulfilled every desire, where sixteen thousand mansions of his wives awaited him. When his wives, having been separated from him, saw their beloved return, they rose at once from their seats and beds. Their hearts danced with festival-like joy, yet their faces and eyes were cast down in modesty, remembering their vows. Though their feelings surged within them, those noble ladies of the Bhṛgu line, with their children, embraced their husband and gazed at him with longing. Even as they tried to restrain themselves, tears of bashful emotion flowed from their eyes. Even when Krishna was beside them in private, at every step his lotus feet appeared ever new and wondrous; which woman could ever turn away from those feet, when even the restless goddess of fortune never abandons them? Thus, after causing enmity among the kings—who, born as the burden of the earth, turned their power against each other in war—Krishna, like the wind extinguishing fire, brought about their mutual destruction and then stood apart, weaponless. The Lord had descended into this world of men by his own power, and surrounded by the choicest of women, he enjoyed himself as if he were an ordinary man. Even Cupid himself, bewildered by the passionate glances, bashful smiles, and sidelong looks of Krishna’s wives, cast aside his bow in defeat. Yet, despite all their charms, these foremost of women could not disturb Krishna’s senses with their wiles. People, out of ignorance, considered him attached, because they judged by their own standards, seeing him engaged in worldly affairs. But this is the sovereignty of the Lord: though he dwells in the world of nature, he is never bound by its qualities—just as the intelligence of one who takes refuge in him is not affected by them. Foolish women, not understanding the true measure of their Lord, thought of him as their own devoted man in private, just as ordinary minds mistake the Lord for something limited. Krishna and Balarama, roaring and bellowing like bulls in rut, sometimes imitated the cries of animals and played together, appearing just like ordinary beings. Once, while Krishna and Balarama were tending their calves with their friends on the bank of the Yamuna, a demon approached, intent on killing them. The demon, disguised as a calf and mingling with the herd, was noticed by Hari, who sat down slowly, feigning innocence, and pointed him out to Balarama. Then Acyuta seized the demon, tail and all, by the hind legs, whirled him around, and threw him onto the top of a kapittha tree. Struck by the falling fruits, the great-bodied demon fell lifeless to the ground. The astonished cowherd boys cried out, “Well done! Well done!” and the gods, overjoyed, showered flowers from above. Though Krishna and Balarama were the protectors of all the worlds, they continued to act as cowherd boys, tending the calves and taking their morning meal as usual. One day, each boy led his own group of calves to the water’s edge; after letting the calves drink, the boys themselves drank water. There, they saw a great being standing before them, resembling a mountain peak struck down by Indra’s thunderbolt.