As the Blessed Lord Krishna entered Dvaraka, he was surrounded by his relatives and throngs of citizens who joyfully followed him. According to custom, he approached each person—meeting them with the honor and attention they deserved. With gentle humility, he greeted them, offering embraces, touching hands, and bestowing warm, smiling glances. To those who had been away, he spoke words of comfort; to others, he granted the boons they desired. In the company of elders, priests, his wives, and aged relatives, Krishna received blessings from others as well. Accompanied by singers who filled the air with praise, he made his way into the city. Along the royal road of Dvaraka, noble women climbed to the upper stories of their mansions, eager for the grand festival of his arrival—to behold the Lord with their own eyes. Yet, even as the people of Dvaraka gazed upon Krishna, their eyes could never be satisfied; for he was the very abode of fortune and the source of all beauty. His broad chest was the dwelling place of the goddess of fortune, his radiant face the delight of every eye, his strong arms the guardians of the world, and his lotus feet the refuge of the virtuous. As he proceeded, white parasols and fans shaded him, fresh flowers showered his path, and he shone in yellow garments and a garland of forest flowers. Amidst this splendor, he resembled the sun surrounded by clouds, a rainbow, and lightning. When Krishna entered the home of his parents, his mothers—overwhelmed with affection—embraced him. He bowed joyfully at the feet of Devaki and the other seven mothers. Their love overflowed; with breasts wet from tears of joy, they lifted their son onto their laps and bathed him in their tears. Thereafter, Krishna entered his own palace, unmatched in splendor and fulfilling every desire. Within it stood sixteen thousand mansions, the homes of his wives. These noble women, having longed for him during his absence, now beheld his return. Filled with festival-like joy, they rose from their seats and beds, their faces and eyes lowered in modesty, for they were observing vows. Though their feelings surged within, these women of the Bhṛgu line restrained themselves. They embraced their husband with their children, gazing at him with longing; yet, even as they tried to compose themselves, tears of bashful joy flowed from their eyes. Even while Krishna was present with them in private, his lotus feet seemed ever new and wondrous to them at every moment. What woman could ever turn away from his feet, when even the restless goddess of fortune never leaves them? In this way, Krishna had brought about enmity among the kings—those who had been born as the earth’s burden—causing their power to be turned against one another with armies. Like the wind extinguishing fire, he brought about their mutual destruction and then stood apart, weaponless and untouched. Though the Lord had descended into this world by his own power, surrounded by the most beautiful women, he enjoyed himself as if he were an ordinary man. Even Cupid, bewildered by their passionate glances, bashful smiles, and sidelong looks, abandoned his bow; yet, for all their beauty and charm, Krishna’s senses remained undisturbed. People, not understanding his true nature, thought him attached to worldly things, judging him by their own standards as he moved among them. But this is the Lord’s sovereignty: though he dwells within the world, he is never bound by its qualities, just as the intelligence of one who takes refuge in him is unaffected by worldly attributes. 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. Krishna and Balarama, too, roared and bellowed together like bulls in rut, imitating the cries of animals and playing as if they were ordinary beings. Once, while Krishna and Balarama tended their calves with their friends on the banks of the Yamuna, a demon approached, intent on killing them. This demon had taken the form of a calf and mingled with their herd. Hari, feigning innocence, sat down slowly and pointed the demon out to Balarama. Then, Acyuta seized the demon by the hind legs and tail, whirled him around, and hurled him onto the top of a kapittha tree. Struck by the falling fruits, the demon’s great body fell lifeless to the ground. The astonished boys cried, “Well done! Well done!” while the gods, delighted, showered flowers from above. Though Krishna and Balarama were the protectors of all worlds, they continued to act as simple cowherd boys, tending their 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 too drank water. There, the boys saw a great being standing, like a mountain peak struck down by Indra’s thunderbolt. It was Baka, a mighty demon in the form of a crane. Suddenly, Baka lunged and seized Krishna with his sharp beak. Seeing Krishna swallowed, Rama and the other boys became like senses bereft of life, bewildered and stricken. But Krishna, the teacher of the world and son of the cowherd, burned the root of Baka’s palate like fire. Overwhelmed with pain, Baka spat Krishna out and, enraged, attacked again with his beak. Krishna, Lord of the virtuous and friend of Kamsa, seized Baka’s beak with his arms and, as the boys watched, effortlessly tore him apart, bringing them great joy. The residents of heaven showered Krishna with Nandana flowers and jasmine, and praised him with drums, conches, and hymns. The cowherd boys, amazed, watched it all unfold. When Krishna emerged from Baka’s mouth, the boys, led by Rama, felt as if life had returned to their senses. They embraced Krishna with relief, gathered their calves, and joyfully returned to Vraja, singing of his heroic deed. Hearing of this, the cowherds and their wives, filled with wonder and deep affection, gazed at Krishna as if he had returned from the dead, their eyes drinking in his form. They exclaimed, “Alas, how many dangers this boy has faced! Perhaps some past misdeed of ours is the cause of this fear.” Yet they marveled that no terrifying being could overcome Krishna; those who approached to harm him perished like moths in a flame. They recalled that the words of the knowers of Brahman are never false, and that everything the sage Garga had declared was coming to pass. Thus, Nanda and the other cowherds, delighting in tales of Krishna and Rama, spent their days in happiness, untouched by worldly suffering. So, through childhood games—hiding, building dams, leaping about like monkeys—Krishna and his companions spent their boyhood in the joyous land of Vraja. At this point, Shaunaka inquired: “When Uttara’s unborn child was struck down by the power of Ashvatthama’s Brahmashirsha weapon, by the grace of the Lord, he was restored to life.