In every season, the city of Dvaraka radiated prosperity and beauty. Auspicious trees and flowering creepers surrounded its peaceful hermitages, gardens, parks, and lotus-filled ponds, all shining together to enhance the city’s splendor. At every gate and doorway, along all the roads, festive arches had been raised, adorned with colorful flags and banners. Within the city, the sunlight was gently subdued, lending a cool, welcoming atmosphere. The grand avenues, streets, bustling markets, and public squares were swept spotlessly clean, then sprinkled with fragrant water. Everywhere, fruits, flowers, and grains decorated the city, bringing freshness and delight to the senses. At the entrance of each home, the people had placed pots brimming with yogurt, grains, fruits, and sugarcane, along with incense and lamps, making offerings to welcome a most beloved guest. Word soon spread that their beloved was returning. Vasudeva, noble-hearted, along with Akrura, Ugrasena, the mighty Rama, as well as Pradyumna, Charudeshna, and Samba, son of Jambavati—all overwhelmed with joy—could not contain themselves. They abandoned their beds, seats, and even their meals, eager for the Lord’s arrival. With affectionate awe, they placed the lordly elephant at the front of the welcoming procession. Brahmins chanted auspicious hymns, and the air resounded with the music of conch shells and trumpets. Honored by the sacred Vedic chants, they approached joyfully in their chariots, hearts brimming with devotion and excitement. Hundreds of splendid elephants, adorned with shining earrings and radiant faces, eagerly joined the procession, enhancing its grandeur. Dancers, actors, Gandharvas, bards, Magadhas, and singers all sang of Krishna’s wondrous deeds and glorious stories, filling the city with music and praise. As Krishna entered, surrounded by his relatives and the citizens who followed him, he approached each person according to custom, honoring them all. With humble greetings, warm embraces, the touch of his hand, and gentle, smiling glances, he comforted those who had been away and granted blessings and boons to others. Accompanied by elders, priests, his wives, and aged relatives, Krishna received blessings from all and entered the city to the sound of joyful singing. As he proceeded along the royal road, the noble women of Dvaraka climbed to the balconies of their mansions, eager to witness the great festival of his homecoming. Though the people of Dvaraka gazed upon him constantly, their eyes were never satisfied, for Krishna is the very abode of fortune and the source of all beauty. His chest is the dwelling place of Sri, the goddess of fortune; his face, a vessel for the eyes to drink in. His arms protect the world, and his lotus feet are the refuge of the virtuous. Adorned with white parasols and fans, showered with fresh flowers along the path, clad in yellow garments and a garland of forest flowers, Krishna shone brilliantly—like the sun surrounded by clouds, a rainbow, and flashes of lightning. Entering his parents’ house, Krishna was embraced by his mothers. With joy, he bowed his head before Devaki and the other seven. Overcome with affection, the mothers lifted their son onto their laps, bathing him with tears of happiness. Krishna then entered his own unsurpassed palace, a place where every desire was fulfilled, and where there were sixteen thousand mansions for his wives. When his wives, who had been separated from him, saw their beloved husband return, they immediately rose from their seats and beds. Their hearts overflowed with festival-like joy, yet their faces and eyes were cast down in modesty, mindful of their vows. Though their emotions were difficult to restrain, these noble ladies of the Bhṛgu line embraced Krishna along with their children, gazing at him with deep longing. Even as they tried to hold back, tears of bashful joy flowed from their eyes. Even in the privacy of their chambers, though Krishna was right beside them, his lotus feet seemed ever new, ever fresh to their eyes. What woman could ever be satisfied or turn away from those feet, when even the restless goddess of fortune never abandons them? In this way, after causing enmity among the kings—who had been born as the burden of the earth and whose armies turned against one another—Krishna, like the wind extinguishing fire, brought about their mutual destruction and then stood apart, weaponless. The Lord had descended into this world by his own will. Surrounded by the most beautiful women, he enjoyed himself as if he were an ordinary man. Yet even Cupid, bewildered by the bashful smiles, sidelong glances, and passionate looks of Krishna’s wives, put aside his bow in awe. Still, despite all their charms, not even the foremost of women could disturb Krishna’s senses; he remained ever untouched. People, ignorant of his true nature, thought Krishna attached to the world, because they judged him by their own standards, seeing him engaged in worldly affairs. But such is the Lord’s sovereignty: though he dwells in the world, he is never bound by its qualities, just as the intelligence of those who take refuge in him remains unaffected by material qualities. Some women, not knowing the measure of their Lord, thought of him as their own beloved, devoted to them in private, just as ordinary minds mistake the Lord for something limited. Krishna and Balarama, too, would sometimes roar and bellow like bulls in their prime, imitating the cries of animals and playing together as if they were ordinary beings. Once, while Krishna and Balarama were tending their calves with their friends on the banks of the Yamuna, a demon approached, intent on killing them. This demon had taken the form of a calf and mingled with the herd. Hari, feigning innocence, sat down slowly and showed the false calf to Balarama. Then, seizing the demon by the hind legs and tail, Krishna whirled him around and hurled him onto the top of a kapittha tree. The great-bodied demon, struck by the falling fruits, fell lifeless to the ground. The cowherd boys, astonished, exclaimed, “Well done! Well done!” and the gods, pleased, showered flowers from above. Though Krishna and Balarama were the protectors of all worlds, they continued to act as simple cowherd boys, tending the calves and taking their morning meal as usual. On another day, each boy led his group of calves to the water’s edge. After letting the calves drink, they too drank the water. There, the boys saw a great being standing—he resembled a mountain peak struck by Indra’s thunderbolt. It was Baka, a mighty demon in the form of a crane, who suddenly rushed forward and seized Krishna with his sharp beak. Seeing Krishna swallowed by the monstrous Baka, Rama and the other boys became like senses bereft of life, utterly bewildered. But Krishna, teacher of the world and son of the cowherd, burned the root of Baka’s palate with the fire of his presence. Overwhelmed by pain, Baka immediately spat Krishna out and, enraged, attacked again with his beak to kill him. As Baka rushed upon him, Krishna—the Lord of the virtuous and friend of Kamsa—seized the demon’s beak with his arms and, as the boys watched, effortlessly tore him apart, just as a hero among the gods might do, bringing great joy to his friends.