Says Tuka, the cowherds tasted that bliss to the full. They danced, making flags of their blankets. They fashioned their own drums and clapped stones together for cymbals. What kind of rhythm did those stone cymbals produce? They sang without melody and danced without keeping time. The cowherds danced and sang without proper beat, yet the dark, beautiful Lord was in their midst. Those who have Hari in their midst have a joy beyond all others; body-consciousness does not exist for them. He embraces them in His own arms. They fall to the ground in ecstatic prostrations. He sees the sincerity in their being. Says Tuka, He plays in the company of such souls.