The noble ladies of the Bhṛgu line, filled with deep love and longing, could hardly restrain their emotions as they embraced their husband along with their children. Tears welled up in their eyes, flowing uncontrollably from the intensity of their bashful affection, even as they tried to hold them back. Though he was right beside them in private moments, his feet seemed ever new and enchanting, drawing their gaze again and again. No woman could turn away from those feet, for even the restless goddess of fortune never abandons them. After stirring enmity among the kings—those who had become a burden to the earth and whose power was turned against one another with their armies—the Lord, like a wind extinguishing fire, brought about their mutual destruction and then stood apart, weaponless. He descended into this world by his own will, surrounded by the most exquisite women, and enjoyed life as if he were an ordinary man. Yet, even Cupid was bewildered by their passionate glances, bashful smiles, and sidelong looks, laying aside his bow in defeat. Despite all their charms, those foremost women could not disturb the Lord’s senses or sway him with their wiles. People, ignorant of his true nature, judged him by their own standards and thought he was attached, simply because they saw him engaged in worldly affairs. But 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 remains unaffected. Foolish women, not knowing the measure of their Lord, imagined him as their own man, devoted to them in private, just as ordinary minds mistake the infinite Lord for something limited. Krishna and Balarama, roaring and bellowing like rutting bulls, would sometimes imitate the cries of animals and play together, appearing as ordinary beings. Once, while tending their calves with friends on the bank of the Yamuna, a demon came, intent on killing them. This demon had taken the form of a calf, mingling with the herd. Hari, feigning innocence, sat down slowly and discreetly pointed him out to Balarama. Then, Acyuta seized the demon by the hind legs and tail, whirled him around, and threw him onto the top of a kapittha tree. The demon, struck by the falling fruits, fell lifeless. The astonished boys exclaimed in delight, “Well done! Well done!” and the gods, greatly pleased, showered flowers from above. Despite being the sole protectors of all the worlds, Krishna and Balarama 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. Suddenly, the boys saw a mighty being standing there, resembling a mountain peak struck down by Indra’s thunderbolt. It was Baka, a powerful demon in the form of a crane. Baka approached swiftly 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 and helpless. 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 him out and, enraged, attacked again with his beak to kill him. As Baka rushed upon him, Krishna, friend of Kamsa and Lord of the virtuous, seized him by the beak and, watched by the boys, effortlessly tore him apart, bringing them joy. The residents of heaven showered Krishna with Nandana flowers and jasmine, and praised him with drums, conches, and hymns. The sons of the cowherds were amazed by this divine display. When Krishna was released from Baka’s mouth, the boys, led by Rama, felt as if their life had returned to their senses. Embracing him with relief, they gathered the calves and joyfully returned to Vraja, singing of the miraculous event. 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 also marveled that such terrifying beings could not overcome him; though they approached with intent to kill, they perished like moths in a flame. The words of the knowers of Brahman are never false, they remembered, just as the sage Garga had declared, so it had come to pass. Thus, Nanda and the other cowherds, delighting in tales of Krishna and Rama, passed their days in joy, unaware of worldly suffering. Krishna and his friends spent their boyhood in Vraja through playful games—hiding, building dams, and leaping like monkeys. Shaunaka then 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, how his end came, and where he went after death. If you think 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, being unattached to worldly desires through service at Krishna’s feet. He possessed wealth, sacrifices, realms, queens, brothers, dominion over Jambudvipa, and fame that reached the heavens. But what value are desires coveted even by the gods to one whose mind is fixed on Mukunda? Just as other things bring joy to a hungry king, so did these bring delight. While still in his mother’s womb, the heroic child saw a certain Person as he was being burned by the power of the weapon. He beheld an immaculate form, the size of a thumb, shining brilliantly, crowned with a golden diadem, dark in complexion, wondrous to behold, clad in yellow garments—the infallible One. Resplendent with four long arms, adorned with blazing golden earrings, blood-red eyes, and holding a mace, this divine being moved all around the child in every direction, whirling the mace again and again like a blazing meteor. With his own mace, he dispelled the weapon’s fiery energy, just as the lord of cows disperses mist, and the child watched closely, wondering, “Who is this?” Then, having removed the danger, the immeasurable Lord, protector of righteousness and all-pervading One, disappeared before the child’s very eyes at the end of ten months. Thereafter, when all auspicious qualities had arisen and the planets were favorable, the bearer of the Pāṇḍu line was born again, endowed with the strength of Pāṇḍu himself.