As Krishna returned to Dvaraka, he greeted everyone with deep humility and warmth. He embraced those who had been away, touched hands with others, and exchanged gentle, smiling glances, bringing comfort to all. To those who approached him seeking favors, he graciously granted their heartfelt wishes. At the same time, accompanied by elders, priests, his wives, and aged relatives, Krishna himself received blessings from others, and together they entered the city, welcomed by the melodious praise of singers. As Krishna proceeded along the royal road, the noble women of Dvaraka, eager for the great festival of his return, climbed to the rooftops of their mansions for a glimpse of him. Yet, even as the citizens gazed upon him, their eyes could never be satisfied. Krishna was the very abode of fortune and the source of all beauty. His broad chest was the dwelling place of Lakshmi, his radiant face a delight for the eyes, his powerful arms the protectors of the world, and his lotus feet the refuge of the virtuous. Krishna shone resplendently, adorned with white parasols and fans, fresh flowers showered along his path. He wore yellow garments and a garland of forest blooms, appearing like the brilliant sun encircled by clouds, a rainbow, and flashes of lightning. Entering his parents’ home, he was embraced by his mothers. Bowing joyfully to Devaki and the other seven, Krishna honored them with deep affection. Overcome with love, these mothers drew their son onto their laps, their breasts wet with tears of joy, and bathed him with streams from their eyes. Thereafter, Krishna entered his own unsurpassed palace, a place fulfilling every desire, where sixteen thousand splendid mansions awaited, each the home of one of his wives. Having been separated from him, his wives now saw him return and immediately rose from their seats and beds, their hearts overflowing with festival-like joy. Out of modesty and due to their vows, their faces and eyes were cast down, even as their hearts leapt with happiness. Though their feelings were difficult to restrain, these noble women of the Bhṛgu line, surrounded by their children, embraced Krishna, gazing at him with longing. Even as they tried to hold back, tears of bashful emotion flowed from their eyes. Even in his intimate presence, at every moment, Krishna’s feet seemed ever new and wondrous to them. Which woman could ever turn away from his feet, when even the restless goddess of fortune never leaves them? In this way, Krishna, after having incited enmity among the kings—who had become a burden to the earth and whose power he turned against one another—brought about their mutual destruction, standing aside, weaponless, like the wind extinguishing fire. Though he had descended into this world by his own will, surrounded by the most beautiful women, he enjoyed himself as if he were just an ordinary man. Yet, even Cupid himself was bewildered and defeated by the passionate glances, bashful smiles, and sidelong looks of Krishna’s wives, putting aside his own bow in awe. Still, with all their beauty and charm, these foremost women could not disturb Krishna’s senses or sway his heart. People, not understanding his true nature, saw him engaged in worldly affairs and imagined he was attached, judging him by their own standards. Such 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 remains unaffected by the world’s influence. Some of his wives, 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 infinite Lord for something limited. Krishna and Balarama, too, would sometimes play together, roaring and bellowing like bulls in rut, imitating the cries of animals, as if they were ordinary boys. 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 the herd. Noticing him, Krishna sat down calmly, feigning innocence, and pointed him out to Balarama. Then, Krishna seized the demon by his tail and hind legs, whirled him around, and hurled him onto the top of a kapittha tree. The demon, his great body struck by the falling fruits, fell to the ground lifeless. The astonished cowherd boys cried, “Well done! Well done!” while the gods, delighted, showered flowers from the heavens. Though Krishna and Balarama are the protectors of all worlds, they continued to act as simple 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 too drank from the river. There, the boys saw a great being standing, resembling a mountain peak struck down by Indra’s thunderbolt. This was Baka, a mighty demon in the form of a crane, who suddenly lunged and, with his sharp beak, seized Krishna. Seeing Krishna swallowed by the demon, Rama and the other boys were stunned, like senses bereft of life. But Krishna, the teacher of the world, burned the root of Baka’s palate with the fire of his presence. Overwhelmed by pain, Baka spat Krishna out, but, enraged, attacked again with his beak. As Baka rushed upon him, Krishna, Lord of the virtuous, seized the demon’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, praising him with drums, conches, and hymns. The cowherd boys, amazed by these wonders, gathered around him. When Krishna emerged from Baka’s mouth, the boys, led by Rama, felt as if life had returned to their bodies. Embracing Krishna with relief, they gathered the calves and joyfully returned to Vraja, singing of his victory. Hearing of this, the cowherds and their wives, filled with wonder and deep affection, gazed at Krishna with thirsty eyes, as if he had returned from the dead. They lamented, “Alas, how many dangers this boy has faced! Perhaps some past misdeed of ours is the cause of this fear.” Yet they acknowledged that none of these terrifying beings could overcome Krishna; though they came to kill him, they perished like moths in a flame. Indeed, the words of the knowers of Brahman never fail; just as sage Garga had declared, so it came to pass. Thus, Nanda and the other cowherds, delighting in tales of Krishna and Rama, spent their days in joy, untouched by worldly sorrow. Krishna and his friends passed their boyhood in Vraja with playful games—hiding, building dams, and leaping about like monkeys. At this point, Shaunaka, eager to know more, asked: “By the power of Ashvatthama’s Brahmashirsha weapon, Uttara’s unborn child was struck down, but by the Lord’s grace, he was restored to life. We wish to hear about his birth, his deeds as a great soul, and how his end came, and to know where he went after death.