Autumn had made Vrindavan beautiful. The waters were clear, the breeze carried the scent of lotuses, and birds and bees could be heard among the trees. Krishna entered the forest with Balarama and the cowherd boys, the cows walking ahead of them. Amid this lively, peaceful scene, He raised His flute and began to play.
The gopīs heard the sound from the village. They recognized it and began speaking to one another about Krishna. They remembered the peacock feather in His hair, His yellow clothing, His garland, and the friends walking beside Him. What might look to someone else like an ordinary day of tending cows became, for them, a moment they did not want to miss.
In the gopīs’ song, all Vrindavan responds to the flute. Peacocks dance; deer look on with affection; cows raise their ears, while birds settle on branches and listen in silence. The gopīs even wonder how fortunate the flute must be to remain so close to Krishna.
The account does not end with a grand event. Krishna keeps leading the cows, and the gopīs keep listening and remembering. In their words, the simple sound of a flute becomes a way to see the love with which Vraja welcomes Him.