Canto Ten - Chapter 39

Śrī Śuka said: Seated comfortably upon a couch and greatly honored by Rāma and Kṛṣṇa, Akrūra attained every desire he had cherished along the road.

O King, when Bhagavān, the abode of Śrī, is pleased, what could remain unattainable? Yet those devoted solely to Him desire nothing at all.

After the evening meal, Bhagavān, Devakī's son, asked about Kaṃsa's conduct toward His relatives and what else he intended to do.

Śrī Bhagavān said: Gentle father, was your journey comfortable? Welcome. May all be well with you. Are our family members, kinsmen, and friends free from distress and illness?

Yet what welfare can I ask about while Kaṃsa, our family's growing disease, remains alive? Though called our maternal uncle, dear one, he afflicts both our relatives and all his subjects.

Alas, because of us our noble parents have endured immense suffering. On our account their sons were killed, and on our account they were imprisoned.

Gentle father, by good fortune the sight of our relatives that I longed for has come to Me today through your arrival. Please tell Me the reason for your visit.

Śrī Śuka said: Questioned by Bhagavān, Akrūra described everything: Kaṃsa's continuing hostility toward the Yadus and his attempt to kill Vasudeva.

He explained the message he had been sent to deliver, the purpose for which Kaṃsa had dispatched him, and what Nārada had told the king about Kṛṣṇa's birth as the son of Ānakadundubhi.

Hearing Akrūra's words, Kṛṣṇa and Balarāma, destroyers of enemy heroes, laughed. Then They informed Their father Nanda of the king's command.

Nanda instructed the cowherds: 'Collect every kind of dairy product. Gather gifts of tribute and yoke the carts.'

'Tomorrow we shall go to Mathurā and present our dairy produce to the king. We shall also see the magnificent festival to which, it is said, all the country people are going.' Nanda Gopa had the village watchmen proclaim this throughout Gokula.

When the gopīs heard that Akrūra had come to Vraja to take Rāma and Kṛṣṇa to the city, they became profoundly distressed.

Some gopīs' faces lost their luster beneath the hot sighs rising from the pain He had awakened in their hearts. From others, fine garments and bracelets slipped, and the knots of their hair came loose.

Others became so absorbed in meditating upon Him that every other activity of consciousness ceased. Like those who have entered the realm of the Self, they no longer perceived this world.

Still others remembered Śauri's words, colorful in expression, intimate to the heart, and inspired by His loving smile. The women fell into complete bewilderment.

They recalled Mukunda's exquisitely graceful gait and gestures, His affectionate smiles and glances, His jokes that removed sorrow, and His magnificent deeds.

Terrified and wretched at the thought of separation, they gathered in groups while reflecting upon Him. With tears covering their faces and their hearts fixed on Acyuta, they spoke.

The gopīs said: Alas, Providence, you possess no mercy at all! You join embodied beings in friendship and love, then senselessly separate them before their desires are fulfilled. Your play is like the behavior of a child.

You revealed Mukunda's face, framed by dark curls, with fine cheeks and a raised nose, beautiful with the slightest smile that dispels sorrow. Now you hide it from us. This is wickedly done.

You are cruel indeed, though known by the name Akrūra, the not-cruel. Like a fool, you now steal the very eyes you once gave us, through which we beheld in one place the complete perfection of your creation in Madhusūdana's form.

Alas, Nanda's son has a friendship broken in a moment. Fond of new companions, He does not even look upon us, though He Himself made us suffer and though we abandoned homes, relatives, sons, and husbands to enter His service completely.

The city women have surely awakened to a happy morning, and all their blessings have come true. When the Lord of Vraja enters Mathurā, they will drink the nectar of His face, the smiling glances from His eyes.

Though Mukunda is self-possessed, the city women will captivate His mind with sweet, honeyed speech. Once controlled by others and enchanted by the play of their shy smiles, how could He ever return to us simple village women?

Today there will surely be a great festival for the eyes of the Dāśārhas, Bhojas, Andhakas, Vṛṣṇis, and Sātvatas, and for everyone who sees Devakī's son along the road, the beloved of Śrī and abode of every virtue.

How could a person so merciless and terribly cruel be named Akrūra? Without offering the slightest comfort to people overwhelmed by grief, he will carry away the one dearer to us than life to the far end of the road.

Hard-hearted, he has already mounted the chariot, while those arrogant cowherds hurry him onward with their carts. The elders remain indifferent, and today even destiny acts against us.

Let us go and stop Mādhava! What could our family elders and relatives do to us now? Destiny has shattered our helpless hearts by taking from us Mukunda's company, which we cannot abandon even for half a moment.

His loving, graceful smiles, charming words, playful glances, embraces, and the assembly of the rāsa dance made the nights pass for us like a single moment. O gopīs, without Him, how shall we cross this endless darkness?

At day's end, surrounded by cowherd boys and accompanied by Ananta, He enters Vraja with His curls and garland powdered by the cows' hoof-dust. Playing His flute, He steals our minds with smiling sidelong glances. How can we possibly live without Him?

Śrī Śuka said: Speaking in this way, the women of Vraja, their minds bound to Kṛṣṇa and tormented by separation, cast aside all reserve. They wept aloud in melodious voices, crying, 'Govinda! Dāmodara! Mādhava!'

As the women lamented in this way, the sun rose. Akrūra completed the customary morning observances and urged the chariot onward.

Nanda and the other cowherds followed behind in their carts, carrying abundant tribute and jars filled with dairy produce.

The loving gopīs followed their beloved Kṛṣṇa for some distance. Hoping for some instruction or promise from Bhagavān, they stood waiting.

Seeing how deeply they suffered at His departure, the foremost Yadu consoled them by sending affectionate messengers with the promise, 'I shall return.'

As long as the chariot's banner remained visible, and then as long as its dust could still be seen, the gopīs stood motionless as figures in a painting, their very selves sent after Him.

When they lost all hope that Govinda would turn back, they returned to Vraja. Singing of their beloved's deeds, they passed the days free from sorrow.

O King, Bhagavān meanwhile traveled with Rāma and Akrūra in the wind-swift chariot and reached the sin-destroying Yamunā.

There He performed purification, drank the crystal-clear water that gleamed like jewels, approached a grove of trees, and entered the chariot with Balarāma.

After taking leave of the brothers and seating Them upon the chariot, Akrūra went to a deep pool of the Yamunā and performed his ritual bath.

Immersing himself in the water while reciting the eternal Brahman-mantra, Akrūra saw Rāma and Kṛṣṇa together within the river.

He wondered, 'How can the two sons of Ānakadundubhi be here when They are sitting upon the chariot? Perhaps They are no longer there.' Emerging from the water, he looked.

He saw Them still seated upon the chariot exactly as before. Thinking, 'Was my vision of Them in the water an illusion?' he submerged himself again.

Once more he saw within the water the Lord of serpents, praised by Siddhas, Cāraṇas, Gandharvas, and Asuras whose necks were bowed.

The divine serpent had a thousand heads and a thousand crowned hoods. Clad in blue and white as lotus fiber, he appeared like a mountain standing with snowy peaks.

Upon his lap Akrūra saw the serene, four-armed Supreme Person, dark as a rain cloud and dressed in yellow silk, whose eyes were reddish like lotus petals.

His face was beautiful and serene, His smile and glance enchanting. He had fine brows and nose, lovely ears, handsome cheeks, and reddish lips.

His arms were long and full, His shoulders high, and His broad chest splendid. His neck resembled a conch, His navel was deep, and His belly bore graceful folds like tender leaves.

His waist and hips were broad, and His two thighs resembled elephant trunks. His knees were shapely, and His pair of legs beautifully formed.

His ankles were raised and graceful, and He was surrounded by the radiance of His reddish nails. His lotus feet shone with fresh petal-like toes and big toes.

He was adorned with a crown, bracelets, and armlets set with clusters of exceedingly precious jewels, together with a jeweled belt, sacred thread, necklaces, anklets, and earrings.

Resplendent, He held a lotus, conch, discus, and mace in His hands. The Śrīvatsa marked His chest, the brilliant Kaustubha jewel rested there, and He wore a forest garland.

He was attended by associates headed by Sunanda and Nanda, by Sanaka and the other sages, by the lords of the gods headed by Brahmā and Rudra, and by the nine foremost brāhmaṇas.

Prahlāda, Nārada, the Vasus, and other foremost devotees praised Him from their distinct devotional moods with words born of stainless hearts.

He was served by the personified powers Śrī, Puṣṭi, Speech, Beauty, Fame, Satisfaction, Ilā, Energy, Knowledge, Ignorance, Śakti, and Māyā.

Beholding this vision, Akrūra was filled with intense joy and supreme devotion. The hairs of his body stood erect, and his entire being and eyes melted with spiritual emotion.

Steadying himself in pure awareness, that Sātvata bowed his head, held his joined palms reverently before him, and slowly began to praise the Lord in a voice choked with emotion.