Viśvakarmā Arrives in Vṛndāvana and the New Capital of the King of Vraja Appears

Night's lovely queen entered the land of Vṛndāvana clothed in pure white moonlight. As soon as she arrived, she spread the stillness of her heart over all the residents of Vraja who had come from Bṛhadvan. One by one, the cowherds grew languid and slipped into sleep's blissful lap. Even the lord of Vraja, who never became drowsy during the first watch, fell asleep that night. The queen of Vraja also slept. Adorning his mother's breast, Kṛṣṇacandra, the lord of sleep, entered deep slumber. The elderly cowherd women reclining upon lovely beds also fell asleep. The young cowherd women, devoted and wholly dedicated to their husbands and finding happiness in their husbands' happiness, remained immersed in the joy of service even as sleep overtook them upon their couches. Mothers fell asleep holding infants in their laps. The eyes of the cowherd maidens closed in sleep as they embraced their companions. Some lay within the tents, others outside beneath the open canopy of the sky, some upon carts, and others upon chariots. Each cowherd woman reclined wherever she wished and began to enjoy the comfort of sleep. Throughout the forest a cool, gentle breeze was fragrant with masses of blossoming flowers. The enchanting light of that night's full moon made even the beauty of Nandana Garden seem slight and insignificant. As breeze and moonlight touched the beautiful limbs of the cowherd men and women, their sleep grew deeper still. When everyone had thus become motionless and inactive, and five ghaṭikās of the night had passed, Viśvakarmā, the divine artisan and supreme master of all masters of craftsmanship, arrived in holy Vṛndāvana:

At night, when the people of Vraja slept in Vṛndāvana forest, and the lord of sleep, resting upon his mother's breast, was deep in slumber;

when the gopīs reclined asleep upon lovely couches, while the young women's minds remained absorbed in the bliss of intimate union;

when some held children and some held companions, while some rested upon carts and others upon chariots;

when the forest, bathed in the full moon's radiance, was lovelier than heaven and made fragrant by breezes carrying the scents of many kinds of flowers;

when every living being was motionless and the fifth muhūrta had passed, the glorious one who is the master of the masters of artisans came there.

(Śrī Brahmavaivarta Purāṇa)

No resident of Vraja saw the divine artisan arrive. He wore fine celestial garments and was adorned with a lovely garland of jewels, makara-shaped earrings, and many jeweled ornaments, and he was as handsome as Kāma, the god of love. Nor did he come alone. He arrived with thirty million master craftsmen:

He came together with thirty million artisans highly skilled in specialized crafts.

(Brahmavaivarta Purāṇa)

After them came innumerable hosts of yakṣas. In their hands they carried heaps of many kinds of gems: ruby, sapphire, syamantaka, moonstone, sunstone, and prabhākara:

Some excellent ones bore rubies in their hands, while others bore sapphires. Some carried syamantaka gems and moonstones, and still others carried sunstones and splendid prabhākara gems.

The entire forest became filled with these celestial beings, and every particle of it shone with the radiance of their divine jewels. Even so, not one resident of Vraja awoke, nor could a single watchman rise. How could they? Kṛṣṇacandra, son of the king of Vraja, possesses Yogamāyā, the power skilled in making the impossible occur, and she was then engaged in a wondrous new design. It was Yogamāyā herself who had put everyone to sleep. Who could possibly tear through her covering and peer beyond it even for a moment? Only when the design was complete would every eye open at once. No one could awaken before then. A divine city was to arise for the king of Vraja in Vṛndāvana. A royal palace would be made, residences would be provided for every citizen, suitable cattle enclosures would be established for all, and royal roads and lanes would be laid out. This capital of the infinitely opulent Vṛndāvana of the king of Vraja would shine forth before the sacred hour preceding dawn. For this very purpose the divine artisan Viśvakarmā had come. He would fashion the city of the king of Vraja. The countless attendants of Kubera had brought the materials for the city, and thirty-five million expert craftsmen had arrived to assist Viśvakarmā as he directed. In seven ghaṭikās they would give visible form to the king's city, the new Vraja settlement, and the boundless, immeasurable splendor of Vrajapura, and then depart. Afterward everyone would awaken and enter their respective homes, overwhelmed with joy. And so:

Remembering the lotus feet of Śrī Kṛṣṇa and centering his mind upon the Lord's glance, which bestows every blessing, the immortal artisan began to fashion the city:

Having meditated upon Kṛṣṇa, whose glance is auspicious, he began to make the city.

(Brahmavaivarta Purāṇa)

Viśvakarmā brought his artistic mastery to its utmost limit. With the boundless materials that had been brought, he fashioned countless four-sided halls, doors, pillars, stairways, finials, altars, courtyards, walls, gateways, and more. In the blink of an eye, residences arose for all the cowherds and the new city of the king of Vraja began to glitter. Yet it is difficult to say whether even the divine artisan himself understood what the city had truly become or what form had actually appeared. In reality, assigning the work of building the city to Viśvakarmā was a play of Yogamāyā, whose inconceivable glory defies thought. To preserve the order of the celestial realm, to honor divine artistry, and, through some inconceivable good fortune, to grant the divine artisan, the countless craftsmen, and Kubera's attendants the supremely rare joy of touching the spiritual abode of Kṛṣṇacandra, the son of the king of Vraja and the Lord himself, Yogamāyā arranged this entire display. In truth, Vrajapura, the city of the king of Vraja, is not constructed. It is the eternal manifestation of the sandhinī potency that abides in the eternal-existence aspect of Kṛṣṇacandra, the Supreme Brahman, highest Person, and embodiment of being, consciousness, and bliss. Like Kṛṣṇacandra himself, it is all-pervading and eternally spiritual. The city that has just now taken visible form in Vṛndā's forest, upon this portion of the manifested universe, has already existed there from beginningless time and will remain for endless time. Whenever Kṛṣṇacandra's conscious and blissful pastime becomes manifest in the world, and as he gradually unfolds that pastime comes to Vṛndā's forest, his second stage, the concealed city of the king of Vraja appears once more. When the pastime becomes hidden, the city too becomes hidden. Such appearance and disappearance exist only for those whose eyes are filled with the radiance of the three material qualities. For those whose eyes are filled with moonlight from the moonlike nails of Śrī Kṛṣṇa's feet, Vrajapura, the city of Vraja's king, is always present, and Vṛndā's forest forever fills their vision. Thus, on this night too, the city appeared; Viśvakarmā did not truly construct it. Had he discovered this mystery, perhaps he would have seen Yogamāyā taking into her hands and causing to vanish the rubies, syamantaka gems, moonstones, and other jewels that he joined together, while in their places the infinite, measureless spiritual splendor of eternal Vrajapura shone forth. The poet's tongue has no power to portray it. Far from portraying it, even the mind's imagination cannot touch a single portion of that wondrous opulence, not even the smallest particle of that wholly incomparable, eternal, conscious, and blissful beauty. It can only be experienced. To say who experiences it or how is also impossible. Yet it is truly experienced. Thereafter only its shadow enters the mind. Speech grasps some tiny portion of that shadow, and, indicating the experienced truth only as a branch points out the moon, the poet cries in a voice trembling with bliss, “Behold the incomparable beauty of the king of Vraja's city in Vṛndāvana!”

In one place the ground is emerald, with golden shrubs, plants, and trees. Elsewhere there are golden avenues with emerald vines and other growth. In one place the earth is ruby, with shrubs, plants, and trees of crystal, while elsewhere a crystal garden bears ruby vines and other vegetation.

(Śrī Ānandavṛndāvanacampū)

“In one place the natural ground itself is made of emerald. Golden shrubs, vines, and hosts of trees adorn that earth. Elsewhere the lanes themselves are made of gold. No, gold covers everything, without the slightest trace of soil. Across this golden ground spread the splendor of emerald vines and rows of shrubs and trees. Elsewhere the earth is formed of ruby, bearing groups of shrubs, vines, and trees made of crystal; and elsewhere still stands a garden of crystal in which ruby vines, shrubs, and ranks of trees sway.”

And look further:

In one place emerald trees are entwined with golden vines, while elsewhere golden trees are graced by emerald creepers. In one place crystal trees bear ruby vines, while elsewhere trees born of ruby are adorned with crystal creepers.

(Śrī Ānandavṛndāvanacampū)

“In one place these emerald trees are enveloped by golden vines, and ranks of golden trees are beautifully adorned with creepers made of emerald. Elsewhere stands a line of crystal trees radiant with vines of ruby, and in another place ruby trees shine brilliantly through networks of crystal creepers.”

Listen and look once more. What a wonder!

There is no jeweled tree whose branches are not made of varied gems, nor any such branch that does not bear beautifully colored jeweled leaves. There are no jeweled leaves without flowers of varied gems, nor any cluster of flowers that is not joined with many fragrances.

(Śrī Ānandavṛndāvanacampū)

“There is no jeweled tree here whose branches are not made of diverse gems. Every branch of every jeweled tree is fashioned from many jewels. Nor is there any branch among them that is not adorned with networks of multicolored jeweled leaves. Every branch of every tree is resplendent with rows of jeweled leaves in many hues. There are no jeweled leaves upon which jeweled flowers have not blossomed. Clusters of jeweled flowers shimmer upon every jeweled leaf. And there is no cluster of flowers from which many kinds of fragrance do not spread. Every flower cluster pours forth streams of varied perfume!”

Ah! See what lovely splendor there is:

Rows of basins about the trees fill themselves from every side with lovely cascades, like streams of liquid jewels falling from masses of jeweled pleasure mountains. Fashioned from gems of hues different from those of the ground and the trees that grow there, the basins shine with jeweled birds.

(Śrī Ānandavṛndāvanacampū)

“Basins have been formed around the roots of the trees. Lovely cascades, resembling streams of liquid jewels flowing from the jeweled mountains of pleasure, keep these basins filled from every side without any effort. How beautifully the basins themselves have been fashioned! They are made from gems of colors different from the jewels composing the ground and trees, and flocks of jeweled birds sport within them.”

Among these jeweled trees, you may recognize a few at once, but only those whose form and color remain exactly as they are, without any change. To identify the rest as particular kinds of trees, you would have to look with great care and ponder deeply upon the shapes of their leaves and arrangement of their trunks. Even then you would not truly have recognized them. Listen and hear the secret: every tree here is a wish-fulfilling tree, and every creeper is a wish-fulfilling vine:

There all the vines are wish-fulfilling vines, and all the trees are wish-fulfilling trees, beginning with the va tree.

(Śrī Govindalīlāmṛta)

All the trees, including śāla, palm, tamāla, sacred fig, wood apple, bakula, coconut, mango, priyāla, bilva, karīla, kovidāra, deodar, mandāra, citron, sandalwood, aśoka, kadamba, guggulu, pīlu, fragrant long pepper, and gajapippalī, are wish-fulfilling trees. All the vines, including vāsantī, wild jasmine, golden yūthī, jātī, yūthī, mallikā, mudrā, aparājitā, guñjā, śatamūlī, bimba-fruit vine, and clove vine, are wish-fulfilling vines. They are not the wish-fulfilling trees of Nandana Garden, but wholly unlike them. They are not material wish-fulfilling vines, but entirely different. They are formed from the spiritual substance of the spiritual abode of the Lord himself, the son of the king of Vraja.

Who can say how many towns there are, all filled with these wondrous opulences? Every cowherd under the lord of Vraja has his own town, and each, together with his dear family and attendants, has a separate residence. The charm of every one of them must be seen. How much will you behold, when there is no end to seeing? Therefore, look only at the residence of the king of Vraja, foremost among them all. Even then you will be able to see only its very smallest portion, for to this day no one has beheld it in its entirety. Ah!

The city has walls of green gemstone, emerald houses, golden roofs, rows of coral pillars, crystal enclosures, and towers of cat's-eye gem. Its lofty buildings are of great sapphire, its immense gateways of flawless ruby stone, and its varied forms surpass rows of celestial aerial palaces.

(Śrī Ānandavṛndāvanacampū)

The city walls are fashioned from green gemstone. The houses are emerald, their coverings and roofs are gold, their pillars are coral, and their surrounding enclosures are crystal. The crests of the houses are made of cat's-eye gem, the high buildings of great sapphire, and the long rows of gateways from slabs of ruby. Compared with the beauty of this city, ornamented in manifold ways, even ranks of the most divine celestial aerial palaces appear inferior. Here and there, masterfully fashioned images of parrots, cuckoos, and other birds cause bewilderment. It becomes exceedingly difficult to decide whether they are pictures or living birds. The wonder is that although everything here possesses visible form, everything is conscious and spiritual. Nothing is inert. The gems, pearls, jewels, gold, and other substances are not hard but exceedingly soft. They are not dry but filled with rasa. A supremely divine light streams from every particle here. Its brilliance is not found even in ten million suns of the material world, yet it is so cool and delightful that it cannot be found even in the massed rays of ten million moons of the cosmos. A sun exists here too, but it is not the sun of the material universe. It is wholly unlike the material sun, a supremely beautiful and radiant sun. A moon that rains nectar exists here as well, but it is not the material moon. Wholly different from the material moon, it is another moon filled with beauty and extraordinary loveliness. In the deep blue sky here there are also Mars, Mercury, Jupiter, Venus, Saturn, Ketu, Rāhu, and innumerable rows of stars. But they are not the worldly Mars, Mercury, and the rest. They are wholly distinct, supremely lovely and luminous Mars, Mercury, Jupiter, Venus, Saturn, Ketu, Rāhu, and constellations:

By its own radiance it possesses a splendid sun, a lovely moon of nectarous rays, an auspicious Mars, a wise Mercury, a beneficent Jupiter, a gracious Venus, a radiant Saturn, a beautiful Ketu, a beautiful Rāhu, and beautiful stars.

(Śrī Ānandavṛndāvanacampū)

Oh, there are no words by which anyone could express the immeasurable opulence of the king of Vraja's city or give linguistic form to its boundless glory. Thus, after speaking as far as one can, one must finally admit defeat and fall silent. Yet lest mention of the sun and moon produce doubt, hear one more statement. The revealed scriptures declare of that realm:

There the sun does not shine, nor the moon and stars. Lightning does not shine there, so what need is there to speak of fire? Everything shines after that radiant Reality alone; by its light all this is illumined.

(Kaṭha Upaniṣad 2.2.15)

“There neither the sun shines, nor the moon, nor the hosts of stars, and lightning too gives no light. How then could fire provide illumination there? The eternal radiance of that realm is itself the source from which the sun, moon, and others receive their light. They shine only by obtaining a partial ray of its splendor, and the entire universe is illuminated by its smallest fraction.”

The realm proclaimed by the revealed scriptures has no existence separate from the city of the king of Vraja. Only after becoming immersed in that radiant realm does one experience that the presence of a sun, moon, and other celestial bodies in the city of Vraja's king is indeed the highest truth, but those celestial bodies are entirely different and wholly distinct from material planets:

The moon, sun, and other celestial bodies there are different from the material planets.

(Śrī Bhāgavatāmṛta)

Nor do the trees, vines, ground, houses, planetary systems, and other things described above possess some fixed and limited form about which one could say, “It is this much, it is like this, and it is not like that.” Every object here is a manifestation of the intrinsic potency of the Lord himself, the son of the king of Vraja, and therefore all are unlimited. Unlike inert things, their form, color, size, kind, position, qualities, activity, mood, and other features have no fixed measure. They continually follow Kṛṣṇacandra's inconceivable supreme potency of divine pastime. Whenever a particular pastime of Kṛṣṇacandra manifests, these things appear in precisely the form and measure required to supply it. To provide comfort and convenience for the Lord's companions, to please them by offering all kinds of implements, to make Kṛṣṇacandra's pastime sweeter than sweetness, and to relish its rasa themselves and plunge into the ocean of bliss at every moment, they repeatedly perform astonishing acts of expansion, contraction, transformation, and even disappearance. Suppose that at this moment the distance from one place to another measures sixteen kos, with Kṛṣṇacandra and his companions, or two groups of companions, situated that far apart. That distance is appropriate to the pastime as it is then unfolding. But if a need immediately arises for the companions to meet at once, so that they come together in a single moment, that very expanse of sixteen kos will make itself fit to be crossed in exactly that time and will become contracted. If any companion, or Kṛṣṇacandra himself, produced a wonder through the aid of majestic divine power, the sweetness of the pastime would be lost. The purpose of relishing and bestowing the rasa of Kṛṣṇacandra's spotless, sweetness-filled pastime would remain incomplete. Therefore, without giving the slightest outward indication or revealing anything unnatural, the ground, inspired by the inconceivable pastime potency, assumes a form that can be crossed in one ghaṭikā. No, it simply becomes such a form. Neither the companions know that the ground has contracted at that moment, nor does the ground itself think that it has contracted its form. The ground itself drinks the rasa of the pastime. Its presiding power, no, the ground itself, is absorbed in the conviction, “I am only this extensive,” and the companions likewise experience at that time that the land is only so extensive. Indeed, where among the companions is there even a conception that it is this extensive or is not this extensive? If it is needed for the fullness of the joy of meeting or to make the rasa of separation supremely relishable, the pastime potency develops that awareness as part of the pastime. Otherwise, whoever is immersed in drinking a particular rasa remains submerged there, or flows wherever the waves of rasa carry him. Analysis of these principles and mysteries belongs to one who stands apart and contemplates the joy and hidden truths of the pastime, not to one forever immersed within it. A true vision of these matters and a complete reconciliation of all events comes only to one whom Kṛṣṇacandra's grace has made utterly pure within and without, who bathes in the flowing river of grace, washes the impurity from his eyes, and beholds reality in the light of the moonlike nails of Kṛṣṇacandra's feet. Even what such a person sees and experiences cannot be expressed in speech. Material power cannot bring the transcendent down upon the material plane, whether exactly or even in part. Material mind and speech certainly cannot do so. Kṛṣṇacandra, abode of infinite majesty, possessed of infinite power, and capable of bringing all things into being, may of course do whatever he desires.

What has been said of Vraja's land, its contraction, expansion, and other changes, applies equally to everything connected with the pastime. When needed to participate in a pastime, a tree of sapphire can become a kadamba. Even while remaining jeweled, it can give one of Kṛṣṇacandra's dear friends or any other companion exquisitely beautiful, wonderfully fragrant flowers that appear just like material kadamba blossoms. An aśoka of ruby may assume a material appearance or remain just as it is, yet place upon the lotus hands of the cowherd women supremely beautiful flower clusters for their ear ornaments, lovely to behold just like ordinary aśoka blossoms, and thus preserve the proper current of the pastime intact. Jeweled mango trees can rain delicious fruit. An entire forest can assume a seemingly material appearance in accordance with the moods of the Lord's companions or the will of Kṛṣṇacandra, director of the pastime, and thereby contribute to nourishing rasa. If clay is needed in the queen of Vraja's garden of wish-fulfilling gems, where a moment earlier no trace of clay existed, then beautiful heaps of sand or moist clay, whatever is needed, wherever and whenever it is needed, will be present, and the honeyed current of the pastime will continue unfolding in its appointed order. What is true of Vṛndā's forest and the city just manifested within it is also true of Bṛhadvan, abandoned sixteen watches earlier, of Vrajapura and the royal palace there, and of every particle of that place. It is true of every forest, mountain, stream, river, lake, and every particle thereof connected with the manifest pastime of the Lord himself, the son of Vraja's king. One should understand that every place of Kṛṣṇacandra's pastime is eternal, all-pervading, and spiritual. Its appearance and concealment proceed in accordance with the sequence of the pastimes. One may also say that when the pastime in one place ends, its infinite splendor goes and joins the place where the pastime is next becoming manifest. This joining and separation is not like the conjunction and disjunction of material substances and conditions. It is wholly inconceivable and beyond reasoning, yet material examples are all that stand before us if we are to understand some small part of it. Thus, what has just happened may be understood as follows. The city of the king of Vraja in Bṛhadvan is eternal just as his city in Vṛndā's forest is eternal. Yet brilliance merges into brilliance and water enters water. The radiance of a fire brought from one place becomes one with another fire the moment it joins it, and the supremely sacred stream of the celestial Gaṅgā becomes one upon entering the holy current of Yamunā. In brilliance and water joined in this way, there is no question of impermanence or inferiority. Similarly, when the pastime in Bṛhadvan and its city of the king of Vraja came to an end and Kṛṣṇacandra arrived from there in Vṛndā's forest, all the beauty and infinite, immeasurable opulence of that place came and merged into Vṛndāvana. While remaining eternally there, it became concealed from that place, joined the newly manifested royal city of Vraja in Vṛndā's forest, entered the lord of Vraja's residence, and became one with it:

Although the eternality of Hari's entire abode is perfectly established, no impermanence is seen when one manifestation joins another. Just as light merging into light and water merging into water are not diminished, so the splendor of the city situated in Mahāvana entered this city.

(Śrī Ānandavṛndāvanacampū)

Truly, O beings of the world, you can know any principle or mystery connected with Kṛṣṇacandra and his pastime only by taking shelter of the smallest drop of the water of his grace. Reasoning has no place among inconceivable realities. If you contemplate with a heart purified by faith, the power of his grace will reveal the truth by itself. Knowing and experiencing it, you will become fulfilled. Beyond this, speech falls silent.

Thus the poet's heart, illumined by the moonlight of Śrī Kṛṣṇa's toenails and immersed in divine rasa and bliss, speaks the preceding words about the king of Vraja's city, either to convey some small part of its opulence to the heart or simply for his own delight. Yet the city's infinite splendor lies far beyond even this. Its true image cannot be portrayed or described through the qualities of material substances. After the city of such immense glory had appeared under the pretense of his acting as its builder, who can say whether the divine artisan Viśvakarmā himself saw its truly wondrous beauty, its unequalled opulence, or even the slightest glimpse of its design? Divine eyes can perceive only this much: immersed in unprecedented supreme bliss and seemingly forgetful of himself, the divine artisan wandered here and there. At every step he appeared to forget even his knowledge of craftsmanship, which was never otherwise impeded. Again and again he paused as though wondering, “How shall I make the next structure?” Then another inspiration would arise, his skillful hands would become active, and within moments a wonder would take visible form. In any event, he first fashioned the residences of the cowherds. Then he hurried some distance away and began building at a lovely place. In the blink of an eye, the city of King Vṛṣabhānu, the dearest friend of Nanda Bābā, lord of Vraja, began to gleam.* No such wealth had ever existed in the design within his mind, yet somehow it poured forth from behind his own hands. For a few moments he lost awareness of his craft. Meanwhile he returned to his proper place and began thinking about constructing the city of the king of Vraja. Brilliance returned to his hands, and an indescribable wonder appeared. Having manifested Nanda's palace, he moved through the city and formed the royal road and urban lanes. At the same time, merchants' dwellings, shops, and marketplaces also appeared. Then a flood of rasa arose in his heart. Carried by it, he returned to Vṛndā's forest and, wishing to fashion the circle of the rāsa dance conceived in his imagination, merely touched one place with his rasa-soaked hands. At once that eternal ground, fit for the rāsa dance that crowns all the pastimes of the son of Vraja's king, blazed with radiance. Who has the power to portray it? A few creations still remained, and so the divine artisan began to wander through Vṛndāvana. Arrangements were now underway for a glimpse of Kṛṣṇacandra's secluded grove pastimes to appear in this world. In the blink of an eye, from behind the divine artisan's hands, thirty enchanting and delightful forests appeared within Vṛndāvana itself.

• When the lord of Vraja began traveling from Bṛhadvan to Vṛndāvana, his dearest friend Vṛṣabhānu, so loving that they were like “one life in two bodies,” also abandoned his immeasurable opulence and followed him. With King Nanda no longer there, Vṛṣabhānu could not have drawn even a breath within the bounds of Bṛhadvan. Such was their incomparable affection. Therefore he too came with him to Vṛndā's forest, not merely with his household and family, but with all his subjects and his entire Vraja.

Here, within this chain of forests, the stream of primal rasa, spiritual and conscious with the essential bliss of Rādhā and Mādhava, would manifest. Even the foremost self-satisfied yogis and sages of the world would long to be touched by a single particle of it. Beholding those forests and considering himself fulfilled, the divine artisan reached the vicinity of Madhuvana. There he fashioned for the Lord and Lady of Vṛndāvana a beautiful pleasure temple beyond which no greater beauty exists. After witnessing its appearance, he returned to the city.

At last the divine artisan inscribed upon every residence the name of the cowherd for whom, according to his understanding, he had built it. At that moment Yogamāyā began to draw back the curtain. It was as though someone whispered in the divine artisan's ear that the appointed time was ending. Without delaying even a moment, he came with his artisan disciples and hosts of yakṣas, all swaying in supreme bliss, to the lotus feet of Kṛṣṇacandra, Lord of Vṛndāvana. When he arrived, he had lacked the courage to approach and had offered homage only from afar, but contact with the divine abode had now granted him this privilege. Bowed in humility, he placed his head at the doorway of the queen of Vraja's tent and offered obeisance to the Lord of sleep, who was immersed in the joy of slumber. Then the divine artisan and his attendants set out for their own abode:

He inscribed upon each residence the name of the person to whom it belonged. Filled with joy, Viśvakarmā, together with his disciples and hosts of yakṣas, bowed to the sleeping Lord of sleep and departed for his own abode, O sage.

(Brahmavaivarta Purāṇa)

Yogamāyā filled the cry of a wild rooster with the power to dispel the sleep of all the slumbering residents of Vraja, and then seemed herself to merge into the lovely body of the Lord of Vṛndāvana. The greatly fortunate bird called out at once. Immediately an incomparable tumult arose on every side. “The city of carts stands exactly in the order in which the king of Vraja arranged it yesterday according to his chosen plan, without the slightest alteration. Yet behind that city of carts, so vast and opulent a city has been constructed in such a short time, with each person's name properly inscribed upon every dwelling. It appears as though the city of carts were resting in its courtyard. It is as if the settled Vrajapura of Bṛhadvan rose intact during the night and came here, adorned with wealth hundreds of thousands of times greater!” The thoughtful elder cowherds stood speechless with wonder.

Only the lord of Vraja felt no surprise. His heart murmured, “This has happened by the will of my worshipful Lord, Śrī Nārāyaṇa. He has performed this play to provide comfort for his servant. For him, the creation of countless opulent cities like this is a trifling sport. But oh, how merciful he is!” The eyes of the lord of Vraja brimmed with tears. Wiping his moist eyes with his silken cloth, he began to wander through the newly manifested city. Reading the inscribed names one after another, he instructed everyone to enter:

Roaming again and again through that city, looking at house after house, and reading each name in turn, he assigned a dwelling to everyone.

(Brahmavaivarta Purāṇa)

The cowherds' tumultuous clamor also dispelled the sleep of the director of this pastime. Startled, he awoke. His mother tried earnestly to reason with him: “My darling, it is still night. Some deity has made a house and fashioned a city for you. The jeweled radiance of that city has joined the full moon's light and spreads this brilliance everywhere. Let the sun rise. Then we shall go and see it.” But who would listen? Balarāma's sleep had also been broken, and both boys were exceedingly eager to go outside. Holding them both in her lap, their mother was compelled to come to the entrance of their cart pavilion.

Gradually, the rays of the sun, illuminator of the worlds, arrived with vermilion in their hands to behold the new Vrajapura, place a tilaka upon it, and color it everywhere with the red hue of kuṅkuma. Queen Yaśodā quickly adorned both sons and fed them their morning meal. Before she had quite finished, both ran away. Accompanied by countless friends, the two brothers, Rāma and Śyāma, admired the city's beauty. Delighting in their tour, they reached the bank of Yamunā and then set out from there toward the forest. That day, above all, they wished to touch the lofty summit of Girirāja. The more Rāma and Śyāma drank in the loveliness of Vṛndā's forest, the enchanting beauty of Girirāja, and the intoxicating splendor of the daughter of the sun's riverbank, the more their hearts' longing increased. They could find no satisfaction:

Upon beholding Vṛndāvana, Govardhana, and the banks of Yamunā, O king, Rāma and Mādhava experienced the highest delight.

(Śrīmad Bhāgavata 10.11.36)

“And now this new city too has been made to increase our joy just as we desire. Someone has fashioned it overnight.” Intoxicated by the rasa of divine play, Kṛṣṇacandra seems to lose himself within his own creation. If he did not forget, how could the rasa of the pastime be nourished? Every object in this city will keep him captivated. The minds of Balarāma and Queen Yaśodā's blue jewel will remain entangled in them.

All the ground is set with gems, and the shrubs, trees, and vines sway beautifully. Lofty white palaces rise, their pure finials kissing the sky.

Countless lattices gleam, and the doors bear panels of jewels. Crystal sparkles upon the thresholds, dazzling the eyes with lovely brilliance.

Māna says that in vast Vṛndāvana the city shines like a crescent moon. The potency of desire fashioned it so that Rāma and dark Śyāma might delight their hearts there.