Though the residents of Dvaraka beheld Krishna day after day, their eyes could never drink their fill, for he was the very abode of fortune and the fountain of all beauty. His chest was the resting place of the goddess of fortune, his radiant face the very nectar for the eyes, his mighty arms the protectors of the world, and his lotus feet the refuge for the virtuous. As he moved through the city, white parasols and fans shaded him, while fresh flowers rained down along his path. Clad in yellow garments and adorned with a garland of forest blooms, he shone resplendent—like the sun surrounded by clouds, a rainbow, and lightning. Entering his parents’ home, Krishna was warmly embraced by his mothers. With joy, he bowed his head before Devaki and the other seven, honoring them all. Overcome with affection, the mothers—tears streaming from their eyes and their bosoms wet with love—lifted their son onto their laps and bathed him in their joyful tears. Krishna then entered his own unparalleled palace, a place that fulfilled every desire, where sixteen thousand mansions awaited, each the home of one of his wives. After being apart from him for some time, these noble ladies—his wives—rose at once from their seats and beds upon his return. Their hearts were filled with festival-like joy, yet their faces and eyes were cast down in modesty, mindful of their vows. Though their emotions surged within them, the noble women of the Bhṛgu line, along with their children, embraced Krishna with longing gazes, tears silently streaming from their eyes out of bashful affection. Even when he was present with them in private, Krishna’s feet seemed ever new and wondrous to them at every moment. Which woman could ever turn away from his feet, when even the ever-restless goddess of fortune never leaves them? In this way, Krishna had caused enmity among the kings—who, born as the burden of the earth, turned their armies against each other. Like the wind extinguishing fire, he brought about their mutual destruction, and then, standing apart and weaponless, witnessed the end. The Lord had descended into this world by his own will. Surrounded by the most exceptional women, he enjoyed life as if he were an ordinary man. Yet even Cupid himself, defeated by their passionate glances, bashful smiles, and sidelong looks, became bewildered and set aside his bow. Still, these foremost women, with all their charms, could not disturb Krishna’s senses or sway his mind. People, not understanding his true nature, imagined him to be attached, simply because he acted in the world. They judged him by their own standards, seeing him engaged in daily affairs. But such is the Lord’s sovereignty: though he moves within nature, he is never bound by its qualities, just as those who take refuge in him are not affected by them. The women, not knowing the measure of their Lord, thought of him as their own, devoted to them alone, just as ordinary minds mistake the infinite Lord for something limited. Krishna and Balarama, too, played together like ordinary boys, roaring and bellowing like rutting bulls, imitating the cries of animals. Once, while tending their calves with their friends on the banks of the Yamuna, a demon approached, intent on killing them. Disguised as a calf and mingling with the herd, the demon was spotted by Krishna, who sat down slowly, feigning innocence, and pointed him out to Balarama. Then Krishna, the infallible one, seized the demon by his hind legs and tail, whirled him around, and hurled him onto the top of a kapittha tree. The great-bodied demon, struck by the falling fruits, fell lifeless to the ground. The astonished boys exclaimed, “Well done! Well done!” and the gods, delighted, showered flowers from above. Though they were the protectors of all the worlds, Krishna and Balarama acted as simple cowherd boys, tending their calves and taking their morning meal as usual. One day, each boy led his group of calves to the water’s edge; after letting the calves drink, they themselves drank as well. There, the boys saw a great being standing like a mountain peak struck by Indra’s thunderbolt. This was Baka, a mighty demon in the form of a crane. Suddenly, Baka lunged and seized Krishna with his sharp beak. Seeing Krishna swallowed by the demon, Rama and the other boys were stunned and lifeless, like senses bereft of their master. But Krishna, the teacher of the world, burned the root of Baka’s palate like fire. Overwhelmed by pain, Baka spat Krishna out and, enraged, again attacked with his beak. As Baka rushed at him, Krishna, Lord of the virtuous and friend of Kamsa, seized the demon’s beak and, before the eyes of the boys, effortlessly tore him apart, like a hero among the gods. The boys rejoiced at this feat. The residents of heaven showered Krishna, the enemy of Baka, with Nandana flowers and jasmine, and praised him with drums, conches, and hymns, leaving the cowherd boys amazed. When Krishna was freed from Baka’s mouth, the boys, led by Rama, felt as if their very life had returned. Embracing Krishna with relief, they gathered the calves and joyfully returned to Vraja, singing of the marvelous event. Hearing these tales, the cowherds and their wives gazed at Krishna with wonder and deep affection, their eyes thirsty for his sight, as if he had returned from death. 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, “Such terrifying beings cannot overcome him; though they approach with murderous intent, they perish like moths in a flame. Indeed, the words of the knowers of Brahman are never false; just as sage Garga declared, so it has come to pass.” Thus, Nanda and the other cowherds, delighting in the stories of Krishna and Rama, passed their days in joy, untouched by worldly suffering. Their boyhood in Vraja was spent in play—hiding games, building dams, and leaping about like monkeys. At this point, Shaunaka spoke, “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 of this child’s birth, his noble deeds, and how his end came, and to know where he went after death. If you think it proper, please tell us, for we are eager listeners, to whom Shuka imparted this wisdom.” Sūta replied, “King Yudhishthira, like a loving father, delighted his subjects. Through devoted service at Krishna’s feet, he was free from all desires. He possessed wealth, performed sacrifices, ruled over kingdoms, had queens and brothers, enjoyed dominion over Jambudvipa, and his fame reached even the heavens.