Overwhelmed by fear and seeking refuge, Vrindā turned to her lord and pleaded, "Protect me, protect me from the adversary of sin—whether through austerity, righteousness, silence, or recitation." She trembled as she spoke, embracing the sage tightly, for there is no greater merit than rescuing the fearful. In that moment, the wicked soul—captor of all living beings—arrived, and Vrindā, terrified, clung desperately to Hari’s neck. She wrapped her arms around him, finding comfort in his gentle touch, entwined like a sorrowful vine. By this embrace, she would one day be restored. Then, the sage spoke gently to her: "This head, now whole with all its limbs, surpasses your husband in virtue. Now, O gentle woman, go for the sake of your husband into the splendid hall." Following his words, Vrindā entered the radiant hall with the sage. There, she mounted the divine couch and took her beloved’s head in her arms. With her eyes closed in passionate longing, she drank from his lips. In that instant, the king assumed the form of Jalandhara—her beloved—his appearance, chest, stature, words, and mind all perfectly matching. He became, in that moment, the very Lord of the world. Seeing her beloved restored before her, Vrindā spoke with devotion, "I will do whatever pleases you, my lord. Tell me your wish, and let me hear it." The one born from the ocean of illusion replied, "Listen, goddess, to how the battle between Shambhu and me unfolded. My head was severed by Rudra’s fierce discus, yet through your power and the union of my soul with yours, my severed head was brought here and my life restored. Dearest, you grieved, child, because of our separation. Forgive me for the offense of leaving you and going to battle." With these words, he reminded Vrindā of their bond. Together, with betel leaves, amusements, and adorned in fine garments and ornaments, the goddess Vrindarika delighted in every pleasure. She embraced her beloved tightly, kissed him, and was overcome with desire. The happiness Vrindā experienced was greater than liberation itself, born of deep enchantment. Even Narayana, the Lord, considered the nectar of Lakshmi’s love to be surpassed, for Madhava had dispelled the sorrow of Vrindā’s separation. Amidst these charming pastimes by a beautiful pond where royal swans dwelled, Krishna, enraptured by Vrindā’s form and mood, lost all desire even for Padma. In that Vrindavana, Vrindā assumed the form of Tulasi; from the sweat of her body, she appeared on earth, supremely pure. Having tasted the happiness of union with Vrindā, Hari, the Lord of the world, considered for a few days the work of Shiva. Then, at the end of their loving union, Vrindā suddenly saw, clinging to her neck, the ascetic—Hari himself, the supreme person with two arms. Startled, she released her embrace and asked, "How have you come to enchant me in the form of an ascetic?" Hari comforted her, saying, "Listen, Vrindarika, know me as the enchanting Lord of Lakshmi. Your husband went to defeat Hara and bring Gauri. I am Shiva, and Shiva is I—there is no separation between us. Jalandhara was slain in battle; now, blameless one, accept me." Hearing Vishnu’s words, Vrindarika’s face fell, and angered, she replied, "In battle, you were bound, and by your father’s command, you were freed while still alive. Though honored with many precious jewels, your wife was taken from you. How can one who is always devoted to another’s wife be called the lord of righteousness? Even the Lord himself must experience the results of his actions—so say the wise. Just as you, ascetic, led me into delusion by your magic, so too, by magic, another ascetic will take your wife." Thus cursed, Vishnu vanished instantly from her sight. The splendid hall, the couch, and all who had come with him disappeared as well. When Hari departed, everything was lost. Seeing the forest empty, Vrindā found her friend and confided, "This was deceitfully done by Vishnu. The city is abandoned, the kingdom lost, my beloved uncertain. Knowing this in the forest, where shall I go, shaped by fate?" She lamented, "The sight of my beloved was only the fulfillment of my desires." Sighing deeply, Queen Vrindā, overwhelmed by grief, spoke again, "For me, death has come, messenger of love, because of you." Her friend replied gently, "You are my very life." Hearing her friend’s words, Vrindā, uncertain of what to do, resolved to act. She went to a great lake in the forest. There, she cast aside her sorrow, washed her body with water, and sitting in the lotus posture on the bank, stilled her mind from all distractions. She began to dry her body, which she felt was polluted by union with Vishnu, and undertook severe austerity and fasting, accompanied by her friend. Then, from the world of the Gandharvas, a host of apsarases approached Vrindā and said, "O blessed one, go to heaven—do not abandon your body. This Gandharva weapon, which brings victory over the three worlds and the highest favor of Shripati, was obtained here, O Vrindā. How can you abandon this body, which has fulfilled its desire? Know that your beloved was struck down by the foremost of trident-bearers; the reward of merit is the ornaments of heaven. Now, O brave and blessed one, quickly go to the abode of the immortals." Hearing their words and the teachings of the ocean-born beloved, Vrindā laughed and replied, "Brought from heaven, the pearl among the wives of the gods, I was first the vessel of happiness for my unconquered beloved, but now, separated from him, I am blameless. May I attain my beloved, who has gone to immortality, in the next life." Having spoken thus, Vrindā, with her friend, dismissed the host of apsarases. Bound by her love, they come and go eternally. Then, through the practice of yoga, Vrindā burned away all qualities with the fire of knowledge. Withdrawing her mind from the senses, she attained the supreme state.