Now I shall tell the story that followed of Krishnadev, exceedingly delightful. The merciful one grew restless to travel onward toward the north.
Having bowed his head to Muktinath, and then bowed to the sages, the Lord of the Universe rose at dawn and departed from that hermitage.
Mountains, rivers, and lakes he crossed, swimming across to the other side. Through the great wilderness where no human dwelt, he walked on with resolve.
He traveled toward the Himalayas, beholding the forests at its foothills. Trees and mountains, the earth itself, he beheld - forests dense with trees of every kind.
Trees and mountains rose immeasurably high, seeming to touch the very sky. Their branches interlocked with one another, tangled thickly together.
And in various places, creepers too were entwined with one another. So dense and tangled was the forest and its vines that beholding it, one's chest would tighten with fear.
Such a thick and forbidding forest it was, where day and night could not be distinguished. The sun's rising and setting could not be seen, so dense was the forest with trees.
There, various fruits and flowers blossomed, and roots and tubers beyond counting. There too were countless lakes and rivers, their waters exceedingly pure.
There were also many deep caves, which seemed like so many temples built there. And countless animals and birds, herds upon herds, roamed about.
Lions, tigers, leopards, and maned lions; monkeys, deer, and various creatures; rhinoceroses, nilgai, and many buffalo; tigers and wild boar, many of them fearsome.
Wild cattle, wild dogs and jackals, hares, mongooses, and serpents of many kinds - when they called out to one another, a terrifying sound arose.
No human being could go there; whoever went could not return. In such a forest he wandered entirely alone, exceedingly steady, unafraid of anything.
Ghosts, spirits, demons and titans were regularly encountered in that forest, along with yakshas, rakshasas, rakshasis, bhairavs, bhairavis, and vetals.
Such beings played about in that forest day and night, and there Hari wandered alone. Wherever night fell as he walked, he slept there fearlessly.
Thus, beholding that entire forest, he came to a town called Butol. Its king was named Mahadatta, ruler over all the mountain kings there.
He saw the renunciate Ghanshyam and, with great affection, kept him in his own home. He served him daily with great love, recognizing him as some great deity.
The king's sister, named Mayaji, beheld Hari and was filled with great joy. She said, "This must be some very great being; this is not the conduct of an ordinary human."
Beholding Hari's great conduct, she served at his feet for the sake of her own welfare. Then the Lord, out of compassion for the two of them,
gave them his own divine knowledge, cutting through the web of birth and death, and giving them unbroken inner happiness. He remained there for some days,
then the Lord of Life departed from there, for he greatly desired to perform austerity, and nothing else pleased him. Cities, towns, and villages with their noise did not please him as a place to stay.
Upper stories, mansions, and dwellings - staying in them left him restless. So he quickly departed from there into the forest, though the king and his sister were saddened by it.
From Muktinath he had come into this wilderness, and three periods of time had passed there. He walked on through the dense forest, eating fruits and flowers found there daily.
Whether he found them at the right time or not, his mind never grew impatient. Thus he wandered in the forest, filled with great renunciation and detachment.
Traveling toward the north, he came upon a fine banyan tree. Nearby was a river and a lake, and the banyan tree spread exceedingly tall and wide.
Elephants roamed around it, and other creatures made fearsome sounds. To its east was a lake, from which water flowed northward.
The banyan tree was entwined with reeds and other plants, and at its base he saw a yogi seated. He sat upon a deerskin, with great matted locks upon his head, sinless.
He wore only a loincloth beneath a covering cloth, and that too was not new. Besides this he had nothing else with him; he was indifferent to all worldly pleasure.
He had taken up the worship of the Shaligram stone, and had undertaken to recite the Gita. Beholding this generous cowherd-yogi (Gopal Yogi), the Lord offered him salutation.
Then the king of yogis rose, and met him with great love in his heart, as one meets a beloved who has come from far away, greeting them with great affection.
Thus they were filled with great joy; then, meeting together, the lord of sages sat down. Each told the other his own story, and their mutual affection grew greatly.
He said, "Let us remain together." Hearing this, the Lord said, "You shall be my guru, and I your disciple; give me good instruction."
He remained with Gopal Yogi and studied the science of yoga - the eightfold yoga (Ashtanga Yoga), by which the disease of worldly existence is cured, in whatever way it could be learned.
Ghanshyam, of great intelligence, learned all the limbs of yoga - I shall name them: yama, niyama, asana,
pranayama, pratyahara, dharana, and what is called dhyana (meditation) - the eighth limb being samadhi. Within these there are many subtle distinctions, and Hari learned them all within a few days.
Whatever he heard once, he would learn and demonstrate it himself. And what he had already learned before, he too would demonstrate at the end.
There are two kinds of basti (a yogic cleansing practice); neti and kunjar-kriya are so called; nauli and shankha-prakshalan are their names - Ghanshyam had already learned these before.
All of these he demonstrated, performing them before his guru Gopal Yogi. Seeing this, the guru reflected within himself: "This is surely no ordinary human being.
This must be Krishna, the Lord of Goloka, who has come having taken this form. For I myself, so free of worldly desire, could never feel such attachment to anyone else -
so I know for certain this is Krishna." With such feeling he beheld him constantly. Thus, maintaining the position of guru toward each other,
they held great regard for one another. Eating roots, tubers, fruits and flowers together with joy, thus a year passed at that place, and through severe austerity he grew thin.
Cold, heat, and the pouring rain - all this his body endured. Thus he performed austerity in the forest, with patience as steady as a mountain.
Such a great and merciful yogi - nearby, cowherds came to dwell, keeping their herds of cows there; but then a lion began to prey upon them.
It regularly killed their cows, and they brought this matter to the yogi. The cowherds said, "We are helpless; these cows are our very livelihood.
If the tiger destroys them, we shall have no means to live." Hearing these humble words, the yogi, recognizing their distress, spoke,
saying, "Do not fear, cowherds; Hari will protect you all." Saying this, he took up a conch shell, and the lord of yogis blew upon it.
As soon as the sound was heard, the predators fled, abandoning that region entirely. And the tigers that dwelt there also left the forest.
The cows and cowherds then lived there in peace, the Lord being the protector of cows and brahmins. He remained there for some further time, reading the second chapter of the Gita.
Then he ascertained with certainty the pure nature of the Self, as it truly is. Practicing pratyahara (withdrawal of the senses), the great sage
drew in the senses, the life-breath, and the movements of the mind, and then, with patience, practiced dharana (concentration). Thus some time passed, and he remained steady in the Self.
He attained the mature state of the meditative absorption (dhyana-yoga) known as samadhi. Thus he taught the yogi and gave him this account of his own experience; such were the practices he performed in the forest.
Thus in the Bhaktachintamani, composed by Nishkulanand Muni, disciple of Shri Sahajanand Swami, the establisher of the exclusive path of devotion, ends the thirtieth chapter, named "Shri Hari Meets Gopal Yogi."