Krishna slips the pearl necklace off his mother's neck, buries the pearls in a field, waters them with milk — and up grow pearl trees. The gopis cannot bear it: "We'll gather all our pearls, and our fathers', and our grandfathers', and plant a bigger field than Krishna!" They plant everything they own, water it with milk — and up come only thorn-bushes and hollow bubble-trees. What a disaster it is: the whole family's wealth gone in one stroke, and no one knows what to do now. But Krishna is drowning in pearls: he has millions upon millions. He hangs pearl strands on the monkeys of Vrindavan, and pearls blaze on the horns of every cow. Such is Vrindavan: here it is always a competition. And what is the holy leela? The leela is a competition in love, each one longing to outdo the other. Who can dye the beloved's whole body deeper in red raga — in anuraga, in deep love?