Dwārakā, the city beloved by the Lord, was protected by the mighty clans—the Madhus, Bhojas, Dasharhas, Kukuras, Andhakas, and Vrishnis—whose strength matched his own. Their vigilant guardianship made the city as secure as Bhogavati, the realm fiercely guarded by serpents. In every season, Dwārakā flourished with prosperity, surrounded by auspicious trees and creepers, hermitages, lush gardens, parks, and lotus ponds. The city gleamed with splendor. At its gates, doorways, and roads, festive arches rose, adorned with vibrant flags and banners, while the interiors were shaded from harsh sunlight. Grand avenues, bustling streets, lively markets, and busy squares were swept clean, sprinkled with fragrant water, and decorated with fruits, flowers, and grains. At every house, the thresholds were adorned with full pots of yogurt, grains, fruits, and sugarcane, accompanied by offerings, incense, and lamps. When word spread that their beloved Lord was returning, Vasudeva, noble-minded Akrura, venerable Ugrasena, and the powerful Rama, together with Pradyumna, Charudeshna, Samba—the son of Jambavati—and all others, were overwhelmed with joy. They abandoned their beds, seats, and meals, eager for his arrival. Placing the lordly elephant at the front, they approached with chariots, accompanied by Brahmins chanting auspicious hymns, conch shells and trumpets sounding, and Vedic hymns echoing. Their hearts were moved by affection and awe. Hundreds of leading elephants, adorned with shining earrings and radiant faces, added to the grandeur, eager for a glimpse of the Lord. Dancers, actors, Gandharvas, bards, Magadhas, and singers filled the air with songs celebrating the wondrous deeds and stories of the illustrious Krishna. As he moved among his relatives and citizens, Krishna approached each according to custom, honoring them all with humble greetings, embraces, hand-touch, and smiling glances. He comforted those who had been away and granted boons to others. With elders, priests, wives, and aged relatives, Krishna received blessings and entered the city, accompanied by singers. As he proceeded along the royal road of Dwārakā, the noble women of the city climbed to their mansions, eager to witness the festival of his arrival. Though the residents of Dwārakā gazed upon him constantly, their eyes were never satisfied, for Krishna is the very abode of fortune and the source of all beauty. His chest is Lakshmi’s dwelling, his face a vessel for 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 the path, wearing yellow garments and a forest garland, Krishna shone like the sun surrounded by clouds, a rainbow, and lightning. Entering his parents’ house, Krishna was joyfully embraced by his mothers. He bowed his head to Devaki and the other seven. Those women, their breasts wet with affection, lifted their son onto their laps and, overwhelmed with joy, bathed him with tears. Then Krishna entered his own unsurpassed palace, fulfilling every desire, where sixteen thousand mansions housed his wives. After their separation from him, his wives rose at once from their seats and beds, their hearts filled with festival-like joy. Their faces and eyes were cast down in modesty due to their vows. Though their feelings were difficult to restrain, those 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 flowed from their eyes out of bashful emotion. Even when Krishna was right beside them in private, his feet seemed ever new to them. Which woman could ever cease from his feet, when even the restless goddess of fortune never abandons them? Thus, after causing enmity among the kings—who had become a burden to the earth and whose power was turned against each other with armies—Krishna, like the wind extinguishing fire, brought about their mutual destruction and then stood apart, weaponless. The Lord descended into this world by his own power and, surrounded by the choicest of women, enjoyed himself as if he were an ordinary man. Even Cupid, struck down by their passionate glances, bashful smiles, and sidelong looks, became bewildered and put aside his bow; yet those foremost women, with all their charms, could not disturb Krishna’s senses. People, ignorant of his true nature, considered him attached, seeing him engaged in worldly affairs, because they judge a man by their own standard. Yet this 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, not knowing the measure of their Lord, thought of him as their own man, devoted to them in private, just as ordinary minds mistake the Lord for something limited. Krishna and Balarama, roaring and bellowing like bulls in rut, imitated the cries of animals and played together, as if they were ordinary beings. Once, while Krishna and Balarama were tending their calves with their friends on the bank of the Yamuna, a demon came, intent on killing them. This demon had taken the form of a calf and mingled with the herd. Hari sat down slowly, feigning innocence, and showed him to Balarama. Then Acyuta seized him, tail and all, by his hind legs, 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. Though Krishna and Balarama were the sole protectors of all worlds, they acted 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, they themselves drank water. There, the boys saw a great being standing, resembling a mountain peak struck down by Indra’s thunderbolt. It was Baka, a mighty demon in the form of a crane, who suddenly approached and, with his sharp beak, seized Krishna with force. Seeing Krishna swallowed by the great Baka, Rama and the other boys became like senses bereft of life, bewildered. But Krishna, the son of the cowherd and teacher of the world, burned the root of Baka’s palate like fire. Overwhelmed by pain, Baka immediately spat him out and, enraged, again attacked with his beak to kill him.