Canto Ten - Chapter 32

Śrī Śuka said: O King, as the gopīs sang in this way and lamented in many voices, they wept melodiously, yearning to behold Kṛṣṇa.

Then Śauri appeared among them, His lotus face smiling. He wore a yellow garment and a flower garland and was the very enchanter of the god of love.

Seeing their dearest beloved return, the women's eyes blossomed with love. All of them rose at once, like bodies regaining their life force.

One joyfully took Śauri's lotus hand between her joined palms, while another placed His sandalwood-adorned arm upon her shoulder.

One slender gopī received the betel He had chewed in her cupped hands. Another, burning with longing, placed His lotus feet upon her breasts.

One knitted her brows, overwhelmed by loving indignation. Biting her lips, she cast sidelong glances at Him as though striking Him.

Another drank the lotus of His face through unblinking eyes and, though drinking fully, could not be satisfied, just as saints are never satiated with His feet.

One drew Him through the gateway of her eyes into her heart, closed her eyes and embraced Him there. Her body erupted in ecstasy, and she remained flooded with bliss like a yogī.

All the gopīs attained the supreme joy of the festival of beholding Keśava. The burning pain of separation left them, as suffering departs from people who attain true wisdom.

O dear one, surrounded by those gopīs whose sorrow had been dispelled, Acyuta Bhagavān shone even more brilliantly, like the Supreme Person surrounded by His divine powers.

The almighty Lord gathered them and entered the Yamunā's bank, where the breeze carried the fragrance of blossoming kunda and mandāra flowers and was followed by bees.

The accumulated rays of the autumn moon had dispelled the night's darkness from that auspicious place. The Yamunā's playful waves, like hands, had arranged its soft sand.

The joy of seeing Him swept away the pain within their hearts, and they attained the fulfillment of every desire, as the revealed scriptures reach their final meaning. With their upper garments, marked by the vermilion from their breasts, they prepared a seat for their own beloved.

Bhagavān, the supreme ruler for whom the lords of yoga prepare a seat within their hearts, sat there. Worshiped in the gopīs' assembly, He shone in a form that is the sole abode of all the beauty in the three worlds.

They honored Him with smiles, playful glances and expressive brows that kindled love. Touching His hands and feet as they rested upon their laps, they praised Him and then, still slightly angry, began to speak.

The gopīs said: Some reciprocate only with those who love them; others love even those who do not love them; and still others love neither. Dear Kṛṣṇa, please explain these three kinds to us clearly.

Śrī Bhagavān said: Friends, those who reciprocate only with each other are striving solely for their own benefit. There is no true friendship or dharma in such exchange; it is merely self-interest.

Slender-waisted ladies, those who love even people who do not love them are compassionate, like parents. In this there is faultless dharma and genuine friendship.

Some do not reciprocate even with those who love them, much less with those who do not. Such people may delight within themselves, have every desire fulfilled, be ungrateful or act treacherously toward their elders.

Friends, I do not immediately reciprocate even with living beings who worship Me, for I wish to intensify their loving devotion. A poor man who gains wealth and then loses it becomes so absorbed in thinking of that wealth that he knows nothing else.

Powerless ladies, for My sake you abandoned social convention, scriptural duty and even your own relatives. Because I was secretly loving you and wished to increase your devotion to Me, I disappeared from your sight. Beloved ones, do not resent Me for this.

Even with the lifespan of the gods, I could not repay the pure service of you who severed the nearly unbreakable chains of home and worshiped Me. May your own goodness be the recompense for your love.