A full-moon night of autumn. Krishna comes to Vamshi-vata and lifts the flute to His lips. The flute speaks not a single word — yet its melody kindles in the gopis' hearts a fire of love. And they abandon everything: homes, husbands, kin, the very Vedic duty that leads to heaven — they leave it all and run toward the call. They know Krishna by the flute-song alone; in the raga he plays they hear: if I do not go this instant, He will die without me. And when, breathless, they surround Him, Krishna teases: "Welcome to the forest of Vrindavan. Why have you come? Is something wrong in the village?" He knows — and still He asks: such is the nature of love, it needs even this play. The flute called without words, and without words they heard it. This is the ripest maturity of a servant's heart: no command, no reasoning — one sound alone, and already you are on your way.