Akrura, filled with awe and reverence, reflected on the Lord whose dazzling rays, fierce and many-colored, flash like lightning and cast afar, darkening the eyes of the wicked. He remembered how the mighty Bali, after offering water to this Lord, had received delightful enjoyments on earth, gained immortality, lordship over the gods, and a Manvantara free from enemies. Yet, Akrura wondered anxiously: would the Lord accept him, even though he had become tainted by his association with Kamsa and was now fallen and despised by the virtuous? What could possibly be unknown to the One who is the very embodiment of knowledge, pure existence, ever manifest, faultless, and dwelling in the hearts of all beings? With his mind humbled by devotion, Akrura resolved to approach the Lord of all lords, the portion of the Supreme Person, Vishnu—He who is without beginning, middle, or end. Thinking thus, the Yadava came before Govinda, bowed his head to the feet of Hari, and announced, “I am Akrura.” Krishna, whose hands bore the divine marks of the banner, thunderbolt, and lotus, touched Akrura, drew him near with affection, and embraced him warmly. After exchanging proper greetings, Bala and Keshava took Akrura into their house. There, after the customary welcomes, Akrura ate as was fitting, and then recounted everything to them. He described how Kamsa, son of Ugrasena, oppressed them, and how the goddess Devaki suffered under the cruelty of that evil-natured demon. Akrura explained Kamsa’s wicked behavior towards Ugrasena and why he himself had been sent, along with his army. The blessed slayer of Keshi listened to all these details 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, Kamsa will be slain by me—there is no other way.” Krishna then said, “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; do not worry. Within three nights, I will slay Kamsa and his followers.” After instructing the cowherds, Akrura, Keshava, and Balabhadra slept happily in the house of Nanda, the cowherd. At dawn, as the day broke clear, wise Krishna and Rama, together with Akrura, joyfully prepared to depart for Mathura. Seeing this, the cowherd women, their bracelets loosened and arms trembling, sighed deeply in distress and spoke among themselves. They lamented, “When Govinda reaches Mathura, how will he return to Gokula? He will listen with delight to the honeyed words of the city women. Once his mind is captivated by their playful speech, how will it return to the village cowherd girls? By fate, Hari—the very essence of our settlement—is being taken away, and we are abandoned by a heartless, wicked one. The city women’s words, their graceful gait, and sidelong glances are truly extraordinary. This Hari of the village, adorned with playful charms—by which one of us will he again come near?” They continued, “Now Keshava mounts the chariot and goes to Mathura, deceived by the cruel Akrura, who is without hope. Does this heartless one not know how devoted we are, that he takes Hari, who delights our eyes, away elsewhere? This utterly merciless Govinda departs with Rama, mounting the chariot; let someone stop him quickly. Why speak before our elders? It is not proper for us. What can elders do for those already burned by the fire of separation? The cowherds, led by Nanda, are ready to depart, yet no one makes any effort to bring Govinda back.” They sighed, “Tonight, the women of Mathura, whose eyes are adorned with collyrium, will drink in the lotus face of Acyuta. Blessed are those who go unhindered with Krishna; seeing him, their bodies will be covered with goosebumps. Today will be a festival for the eyes of Mathura’s citizens, as they behold Govinda’s limbs. Who among their own people, truly fortunate, has been seen by those blessed women, whose wide-eyed gaze will freely behold the transcendent Lord? Alas! After showing this great treasure to us, the Creator, whose heart is unkind, now takes our eyes elsewhere. As Hari departs, our affection fades; even the bangles on our hands loosen. Akrura, whose heart is cruel, urges the horses on swiftly; with the women so distressed, who would not feel pity? Behold the dust raised high by Krishna’s chariot—by which Hari is taken far away, and even that dust is now out of sight.” Thus, while the cowherd women watched in deep anguish, Keshava departed from Vraja with Rama. Traveling swiftly by chariot with fast horses, Rama, Akrura, and Krishna reached the bank of the Yamuna at midday. Akrura then said to Krishna, “Please allow me a moment; I will perform my midday ablutions in the waters of the Kalindi.” Krishna agreed, and the wise Akrura, with permission, entered the waters of the Yamuna and meditated on the supreme Brahman.