As Krishna, the mighty protector of the world, tended the cows amidst the cowherd boys, a wondrous sight unfolded. High above, Garuḍa, king of birds, hovered unseen by most, sheltering Krishna’s head with his great wings, his divine presence concealed by his own power. At a respectful distance, Indra, king of the gods, descended from his mount—the lord of serpents—with eyes widened in joy and a smile upon his lips. Drawing near to Madhusudana, he spoke humbly, “Krishna, Krishna, hear me. I have come with a purpose—please listen, and do not take my words amiss. You alone, O supreme lord, have descended to earth to relieve its burden and sustain all beings. Because I opposed the sacrifice, I commanded the mighty clouds to devastate Gokula. But you, by lifting the mountain, protected the cows and the people. Your heroic and wondrous deed has satisfied me. “By holding this foremost mountain with a single hand, you have fulfilled the purpose of the gods. Prompted by the cows, I have come to honor you, for you have granted them your great protection. Therefore, Krishna, at their urging, I shall anoint you, O Upendra, as Govinda—the lord of cows.” So saying, Indra, as narrated by Śrī Parāśara, took a golden vessel from his elephant Airavata and performed the sacred anointing, filling the vessel with pure water. At that very moment, as the ceremony was underway, the cows themselves poured forth streams of milk upon the earth, as if in joyous tribute. Having anointed Upendra Janārdana at the cows’ request, Indra, with deep affection and humility, spoke again: “This wish of the cows has been fulfilled. Now, hear another matter, O greatly fortunate one, which I say out of a desire to lighten the earth’s burden. A portion of myself has descended as Arjuna, O sustainer of the earth. He must always be protected by you. This hero will aid you in relieving the world’s weight; protect him, O Madhusudana, as you would your very self.” Krishna replied, “I know, O descendant of Bharata, that Partha—born from your essence—has come to earth. I shall protect him as long as I remain here. As long as I am present, no one will defeat Arjuna in battle, O Indra. When Kamsa, Ariṣṭa, Keśī, Kuvalayāpīḍa, Naraka, and others are slain, there will be a great war. Know, O thousand-eyed one, that then the earth’s burden will be lifted. Go now, and do not grieve for your son; as long as I am here, no enemy will prevail against Arjuna. For his sake, I will return all the sons, led by Yudhishthira, unharmed to Kunti when the war in Bharata is over.” Thus reassured, Indra embraced Janārdana, mounted Airavata, and returned to his heavenly abode. Krishna, meanwhile, returned to Vraja with the cows and cowherds, following a path sanctified by the glances of the gopīs. After Indra’s departure, the cowherds gathered around Krishna, marveling at his flawless deeds and speaking to him with heartfelt affection. “O mighty-armed one, you have saved us and the cows from great peril by lifting the mountain. Such deeds, and your very life as a cowherd, seem far beyond the ordinary. You subdued Kāliya in the waters, struck down Pralamba, and lifted Govardhana—these wonders unsettle our minds. “Truly, O Hari of immeasurable might, after witnessing your acts, we cannot see you as merely human. O Keśava, all the women and children of Vraja love you, yet your deeds are beyond even the gods. Your childhood, your strength, your birth among us—these are all wondrous, and pondering them fills us with doubt. Whether you are god, demon, yakṣa, or gandharva—what does it matter? You are our own, and to you we bow.” For a moment, Krishna stood silent, showing a gentle, affectionate displeasure. Then he spoke, “If, because of your closeness to me, you feel neither shame nor the need to revere me, then why do you deliberate thus? If you love me, if I am worthy of your regard, then think of me as your own kinsman. I am not a god, nor a gandharva, nor a yakṣa, nor a demon. I am born as your kinsman—there is no need to think otherwise.” Hearing these words, the cowherds fell silent, their hearts touched by Krishna’s gentle rebuke, and they wandered into the forest. Krishna, meanwhile, gazed at the sky, clear and bright as the autumn moon, and at the blooming kumudini flowers, whose fragrance filled the air. He beheld the lovely rows of trees and the swarms of bees humming among them, and, turning his mind to delight, he joined the cowherd women. Together with Rāma, who was ever pleasing to the women, Krishna, the son of Śūra, sang melodious notes, accompanied by sweet music and instruments, filling Vraja with joy and harmony.