Akrura, filled with reverent anticipation, reflected deeply as he journeyed toward Gokula. He contemplated the greatness of the Lord, the soul of all beings, who knows all, who is all, who dwells within every creature, and who pervades and transcends everything. Today, Akrura mused, this supreme being would speak with him—the very one who, in the forms of fish, tortoise, boar, horse, lion, and others, has preserved the world, though himself unborn. Now, the Lord of the world, by his own will, had assumed a human form, taking a body for his divine purpose, yet remaining unchanged in essence. This infinite one, who supports the earth and has descended for the sake of the world, would soon address Akrura by name. Akrura bowed again and again, acknowledging the powerful illusion of familial bonds—father, son, friend, brother, mother, and kin—a web from which the world cannot escape. He offered salutations to that immeasurable yogi, the embodiment of knowledge, in whom, when the mind is placed, one crosses the vast ocean of ignorance. He honored the Lord known as the Purusha of sacrifice by those who perform rituals, as Vāsudeva by the Sātvatas, and as Vishnu by the knowers of Vedanta. Just as the foundation supports the abode of the world, both the existent and non-existent rest upon this truth, and Akrura prayed for the Lord’s kindness. He sought refuge in the eternal, unborn Purusha, Hari, where remembrance brings all auspiciousness. Thus, contemplating Vishnu with a mind humbled in devotion, Akrura arrived at Gokula as the sun began to shine. There, he saw Krishna among the cows at milking time, standing amidst the calves. Krishna’s complexion was like a blossoming blue lotus petal. His eyes, gentle like lotus petals, his chest marked with the Srivatsa, his long arms reaching down, his broad chest prominent and elevated. Krishna’s lotus-like face bore a charming smile, and his feet, with high, red nails, were firmly planted on the earth. He wore yellow garments, adorned with forest flowers, held a blue creeper in his hand, and wore a white lotus as an ornament. Nearby, Akrura saw Balabhadra, the delight of the Yadus, clad in garments white as swans, jasmine, and the moon, as well as blue cloth. Balabhadra stood with arms raised high, his radiant, lotus-like face surrounded by a garland of clouds, resembling another Mount Kailasa. Seeing the two brothers, Akrura’s heart blossomed like a lotus at sunrise; his whole body thrilled and he became overwhelmed with emotion. Akrura recognized in Krishna the supreme light, the highest state, where the portion of the blessed Vasudeva stands firm. He felt his eyes had attained their purpose, having seen the sustainer of the universe. He prayed that, by the grace of the Blessed One, his body might also gain the fruit of contact with Krishna’s limbs. He wondered if this glorious, infinite form would touch his back with his lotus hand—a touch that destroys all sins and grants perfection, free from decay. Akrura remembered how Krishna, like a flash of lightning, casts afar the fierce, terrifying streaks of rays that blacken the eyes of the wicked. He recalled how Bali, by placing water on Krishna, obtained delightful enjoyments while dwelling on earth, and thus attained immortality, lordship over the gods, and a full Manvantara free from enemies. Akrura, feeling unworthy due to his association with Kamsa and his fall from favor among the good, hoped that Krishna would still accept him, despite his dishonor. He pondered what could be unknown to Krishna, who is the embodiment of knowledge, a mass of pure existence, ever manifest, free from all faults, and abiding in the hearts of all beings. With his mind humbled by devotion, Akrura approached the Lord of all lords, the portion of the Supreme Person, Vishnu, who is without beginning, middle, or end. Thinking thus, Akrura came before Govinda, announcing himself and bowing his head to the feet of Hari. Krishna, whose hands bore the marks of the banner, thunderbolt, and lotus, touched Akrura, drew him close with affection, and embraced him tightly. After exchanging proper greetings, Bala and Keshava led Akrura into their house together. Akrura, after further greetings, ate as was proper, and then recounted everything: how Kamsa, son of Ugrasena, oppressed them, how the goddess Devaki was tormented by that evil-natured demon, and how wicked Kamsa behaved toward Ugrasena. He explained the purpose for which he and the army had been sent away. The blessed slayer of Keshi listened in detail and replied, “All this, O lord of gifts, is already known to me. I will do whatever is appropriate in this matter; know for certain that Kamsa will be slain by me—there is no other way. Tomorrow, O Rama, we shall go to Mathura together with you; the elders among the cowherds will also go, bringing many gifts. Rest tonight, O hero; you should not worry. Within three nights, I will slay Kamsa along with his followers.” After instructing the cowherds, Akrura, Keshava, and Balabhadra slept happily in the house of Nanda the cowherd. At dawn, when the day was clear, Krishna and Rama, together with Akrura, joyfully prepared to go to Mathura. Seeing this, the cowherd women, distressed, sighed deeply and spoke to each other. “When Govinda reaches Mathura, how will he return to Gokula? He will drink with his ears the honeyed words of the city women. Once his mind has become the abode of the playful words of the city women, how will it again turn to the village cowherd girls?” Thus, the story unfolds: Akrura’s devotion, his vision of the divine brothers, his humble approach, and Krishna’s promise to end Kamsa’s tyranny, all set against the poignant sorrow of the cowherd women as Krishna prepares to leave for Mathura.