Akrura, sent as Kamsa’s messenger, sat before Krishna and described in detail all that had transpired in Mathura. He spoke of Kamsa’s wickedness toward Ugrasena and explained the purpose for which he and his army had been dispatched. The blessed slayer of Keshi, Krishna, listened patiently to Akrura’s account. When Akrura had finished, Krishna said with gentle assurance, “All this, O lord of gifts, is already known to me. Be at peace—I will do whatever is appropriate in this matter. Know with certainty that Kamsa will be slain by me; there is no other way.” Turning to Balarama, Krishna continued, “Tomorrow, O Rama, we shall journey to Mathura together with you. The elders among the cowherds will also accompany us, bringing many gifts. Tonight, rest, O hero; do not worry. Within three nights, I will slay Kamsa and his followers.” Having thus reassured them, Krishna instructed the cowherds on what was to be done. Then, Akrura, Krishna—Keshava—and Balabhadra, the mighty Balarama, slept peacefully in the house of Nanda, the chief of the cowherds. At dawn, as the day grew bright and clear, the wise Krishna and Rama, together with Akrura, joyfully prepared for their departure to Mathura. As the preparations were underway, the cowherd women gathered, their bracelets and arms loosened in distress. With heavy sighs, they spoke to one another in deep sorrow, their hearts troubled by the impending separation. They lamented, “When Govinda reaches Mathura, how will he return to Gokula? He will listen, enchanted, to the honeyed words of the city women. Once his mind is captivated by their playful speech, how will he again think of us, the village cowherd girls? By fate, Hari—the very essence of our settlement—is being taken away, leaving us abandoned by one who seems heartless and cruel.” They spoke of the city women’s grace: “Their words, full of hidden meaning, their charming gait, and their sidelong glances are truly extraordinary. This Hari of our village, so adorned with playful charms—by which of us will he again be drawn near? Now Keshava mounts the chariot and goes to Mathura, deceived by the cruel Akrura, who is without hope. Does he not know how devoted we are, that he takes Hari, who delights our eyes, away from us?” Their grief deepened as Krishna and Rama mounted the chariot. “This utterly merciless Govinda departs with Rama; let someone stop him quickly,” they cried. Yet, they reminded one another, “Why speak before our elders? It is not proper for us. What can elders do for those already burning in the fire of separation?” The cowherds, led by Nanda, were ready to depart as well, but no one tried to bring Govinda back. The women mourned, “Tonight has passed beautifully for the women of Mathura, who will soon feast their eyes on the lotus face of Acyuta, adorned with collyrium. Blessed are those who travel with Krishna; their bodies will be covered with goosebumps at the sight of him. Today will be a grand festival for the eyes of Mathura’s citizens, as they behold the limbs of Govinda. Who among their own people, truly fortunate, has been seen by those blessed women, whose wide-eyed gaze will freely behold the transcendent Lord?” They lamented the cruelty of fate: “After showing us this great treasure, the Creator, whose heart is unkind, has now turned our eyes elsewhere. As Hari departs, our affection grows faint; even the bangles on our hands become loose. Akrura, whose heart is cruel, urges the horses swiftly onward; 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, as the cowherd women gazed on in anguish, Keshava departed from Vraja together with Rama. The chariot, drawn by swift horses, sped along, carrying Rama, Akrura, and Krishna, the subduer of enemies, to the banks of the Yamuna by midday. Upon reaching the river, Akrura turned to Krishna and said, “Please allow me a moment; I wish to perform my midday ablutions in the waters of the Kalindi.” Krishna consented, and Akrura, having received permission, entered the sacred waters of the Yamuna. There, he meditated on the supreme Brahman. In the depths of meditation, Akrura beheld a wondrous vision: Balarama, adorned with a garland of a thousand hoods, his body bright as jasmine, his eyes red as lotus petals and wide open. He was surrounded by Vasuki and other mighty, wind-like serpents, praised by Gandharvas, and adorned with a garland of forest flowers. Wearing dark garments and a lovely lotus ornament on his head, shining with beautiful earrings, Balarama stood beneath the surface of the water. On his lap rested a dark-hued one, with coppery, wide eyes and four arms, his noble limbs adorned with weapons such as the discus. He was clad in yellow garments, decorated with various garlands and ornaments, and shone like a raincloud splendidly decorated with a rainbow’s garland. Akrura beheld Krishna, whose chest bore the mark of Srivatsa, radiant with armlets and a shining crown, adorned with an unblemished lotus ornament. There, Sanandana and other sages, accomplished in yoga and free from impurity, sat contemplating him, their gaze fixed at the tip of their noses. Astonished, Akrura recognized Balarama and Krishna and wondered, “How did they come here so swiftly from the chariot?” As he wished to speak, Janardana restrained his words. Emerging from the water, Akrura returned to the chariot and, to his amazement, saw both Rama and Krishna seated as before, in their human forms.