Entering the house of his parents, Krishna was warmly embraced by his mothers. With joy in his heart, he bowed his head before Devaki and the other seven mothers, honoring them with deep affection. The women, overcome with loving emotion, lifted their son onto their laps; the affection in their hearts flowed forth as tears, wetting their breasts as they bathed him in their joy. After these tender moments, Krishna entered his own unparalleled palace, a place that fulfilled every desire. Within this wondrous abode stood sixteen thousand splendid mansions, the homes of his wives. When these noble women, who had longed for their husband during his absence, saw him return, their hearts blossomed as if in festival. Rising swiftly from their seats and beds, they greeted him with faces and eyes cast down in modesty, mindful of their vows. Though their feelings threatened to overflow, these illustrious ladies of the Bhṛgu line embraced Krishna with their children, gazing at him with deep inner longing. Even as they tried to restrain themselves, tears welled up and flowed from their eyes, shy yet full of love. No matter how close he was, even in the privacy of their chambers, every step of Krishna seemed ever fresh and new to them. How could any woman turn her heart from his feet, when even the ever-restless goddess of fortune never leaves them? Thus, having brought strife among the kings—who had been born as the earth’s burden and whose power he turned against each other in battle—Krishna, like the wind that extinguishes 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 most excellent women, he enjoyed himself as if he were an ordinary man. Such was the beauty and charm of his wives, that even Cupid himself was bewildered by their passionate glances, bashful smiles, and sidelong looks; so much so that he put aside his bow in defeat. Yet, despite all their allure, these foremost women could not shake Krishna’s senses or disturb his mind with their arts. People, ignorant of his true nature, imagine him to be attached, judging by their own standards, because they see him engaged in worldly affairs. This is the supreme sovereignty of the Lord: though he dwells within the world of nature, he is never bound by its qualities—just as the intelligence of one who takes shelter in him remains untouched by those qualities. Not knowing the measure of their Lord, the women thought of Krishna as their own beloved, devoted to them in private, just as ordinary minds mistake the infinite Lord for something limited. Krishna and Balarama, roaring and bellowing together like rutting bulls, sometimes imitated the cries of animals and played together, appearing as ordinary beings. Once, as Krishna and Balarama tended their calves with their friends on the banks of the Yamuna, a demon came among them, intent on killing. This demon had taken the form of a calf and mingled with the herd. Hari, feigning innocence, sat down slowly and pointed him out to Balarama. Then, Acyuta seized the demon by his hind legs and tail, whirled him around, and threw 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 cowherd boys cried out, “Well done! Well done!” while the gods, greatly pleased, showered flowers from above. Though Krishna and Balarama are the protectors of all the 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 group of calves to the water’s edge. After letting the calves drink, the boys themselves drank from the river. There, the boys beheld a great being, towering like a mountain peak struck down by Indra’s thunderbolt. This was Baka, a mighty demon in the form of a crane, who suddenly lunged forward and seized Krishna with his sharp beak. Seeing Krishna swallowed by the monstrous Baka, Rama and the other boys were struck with terror, as if their senses had lost all life. But Krishna, the teacher of the world and son of the cowherd, burned the root of Baka’s palate like fire. Overwhelmed by pain, Baka spat Krishna out, but, enraged, attacked again with his beak to kill him. As Baka rushed upon him, Krishna, Lord of the virtuous and friend of Kamsa, seized him by the beak and, while the boys watched, effortlessly tore him apart as easily as a hero among the gods, filling the boys with joy. The gods showered the enemy of Baka with Nandana flowers and jasmine, praising him with drums, conches, and hymns; the sons of the cowherds gazed in amazement at these wonders. When Krishna emerged unharmed from Baka’s mouth, the boys, led by Rama, felt as if their very life had returned. They embraced Krishna with relief, gathered the calves, and joyfully returned to Vraja, singing of what had happened. When the cowherds and their wives heard of this, they gazed at Krishna with thirsty eyes, filled with wonder and deep affection, 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 also recognized, “Those terrifying beings cannot overcome him; though they approach with intent to kill, they perish like moths in a flame.” The words of the knowers of Brahman are never false; just as the sage Garga had declared, so it came to pass. Thus, Nanda and the other cowherds, delighting in tales of Krishna and Rama, passed their days in joy, untouched by worldly suffering. In this way, through childhood play—games of hiding, building dams, and leaping like monkeys—they spent their boyhood in Vraja. 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 about this child’s birth, his deeds as a great soul, how his end came, and where he went after death. If you deem it proper, please tell us, for we are eager listeners, to whom Shuka imparted this knowledge.” Sūta replied: King Yudhishthira, like a loving father, delighted his subjects. Through serving at Krishna’s feet, he remained unattached to all desires. He possessed wealth, performed sacrifices, ruled over many realms, had queens and brothers, and held dominion over Jambudvipa, his fame reaching the heavens. But, O twice-born, what value are desires coveted even by the gods to one whose mind is fixed on Mukunda? Such things bring joy only as food delights a hungry king. O descendant of Bhrigu, while still in his mother’s womb, the heroic child beheld a wondrous Person as he was being burned by the power of a weapon. He saw a spotless form, no bigger than a thumb, shining, crowned with a golden diadem, dark in complexion, wondrous to behold, clad in yellow garments—the infallible Lord himself.