Krishna alone lifted Govardhana hill and humbled Indra — so the demigods slipped down in secret, massaged him with fragrant oil, bathed him in the water of the heavenly Ganga, and did his abhishek. Meanwhile his cowherd friends had lost him: "Where is Kanhaiya? Come, let's go find him." They wander here and there — and suddenly spot, far off, a whole host of devatas worshipping their Krishna, then flying up into the sky. The boys run to him, crowd around, and sniff: "Krishna, what is that scent on you? And besides — you do the oil massage before the bath, not after! You've got it all backwards." And Krishna just stands there bashful, looking away. In Vrindavan he is embarrassed to be God: he only hopes his friends won't catch on. For were he truly God to them, he would have no friends at all — to be friends you must be equals, and who is equal to Bhagavan? So he hides his majesty: otherwise the highest love could never be tasted.