The city was alive with celebration. Its streets had been freshly sprinkled with water, flags fluttered from every rooftop, and the air rang with the melodious chants of the Vedas. Beautifully adorned gateways stretched over the thoroughfares, welcoming all who passed beneath them. Everywhere, people rejoiced, their faces alight with happiness. As the honored one entered, the women greeted him with garlands, bowls of creamy yogurt, and trays of sprouting grains—symbols of auspiciousness. Their loving, eager eyes followed him, filled with admiration and affection. All the treasures and spoils of war—endless wealth, gleaming with the ornaments of fallen heroes—were gathered together and presented to the king of the Yadus by the Lord Himself. Yet, peace was short-lived. The king of Magadha, Jarasandha, marshaled a vast army—seventeen formidable akshauhinis—and repeatedly assailed the Yadus. But the Yadus, protected and empowered by Krishna’s divine brilliance, vanquished each assault. In the end, Jarasandha’s forces were decimated, his allies deserted him, and he was left to retreat alone. Even so, conflict was not over. As the eighteenth battle loomed, a new threat appeared: a mighty Yavana, dispatched by Narada, entered the fray, bringing with him an army of three million fierce, foreign warriors. This Yavana, unmatched among men, had heard tales of the valorous Vṛṣṇis and sought to challenge their might by besieging Mathura. Seeing this, Krishna, accompanied by his brother Sankarshana, reflected gravely: “Alas, a great calamity has come upon the Yadus from both sides. This powerful Yavana besieges us today, and Jarasandha will arrive soon—today, tomorrow, or the next day. If Jarasandha comes while we are engaged in battle, he may kill our kinsmen or carry them off to his city.” Determined to protect his people, Krishna declared, “Let us build a fortress today—one that no man can approach. Once our kinsmen are safe within, we will turn and destroy the Yavana.” With careful planning, the Blessed Lord created a wondrous city within the sea itself, twelve yojanas wide—a fortress impossible for ordinary men to reach. The city’s design revealed the masterful skill of Tvaṣṭṛ, the divine craftsman: its streets, crossroads, and avenues all followed the highest principles of architecture. The city gleamed with celestial trees and gardens, marvelous groves, and golden towers that stretched toward the heavens. Crystal mansions sparkled alongside ornate gateways. Silver and gold turrets shone in the sunlight; treasuries were adorned with golden jars, houses were crowned with jewels, and great emerald platforms added to the city’s splendor. Within its walls stood the homes of the guardians of the quarters and the residences of beloved women. People of all four varṇas filled the city, and the homes of the Yadu gods shone brightly, adding to its divine atmosphere. Indra himself sent the Sudharmā assembly hall and the Pārijāta tree to this city, where even mortals were freed from the limitations of mortality. Varuṇa contributed swift, white horses, dark in color yet as fast as thought. The lord of treasures bestowed eight inexhaustible treasuries. The guardians of the worlds gave all their own opulences to Krishna. Whatever lordship had been granted to them by the Blessed Lord for their own perfection, they now returned to Hari as He descended to earth. By the power of yoga, Krishna brought all the people into the new city. After consulting with his brother Rāma, the protector of the people, Krishna left the city gate, garlanded with lotuses and unarmed, ready to face the threat. Śrī Śuka described the scene: As Krishna emerged, He shone like the rising moon—supremely beautiful, dark of complexion, draped in yellow silk. The mark of Śrīvatsa adorned His chest; the brilliant Kaustubha gem gleamed at His throat. Broad and tall, with four arms and eyes like freshly blossomed red lotuses, He radiated joy and glory. His cheeks were rounded, His smile pure, His face lotus-like, and His ears sparkled with makara-shaped earrings. He was Vāsudeva Himself, unmistakable by the signs described by Nārada: the Śrīvatsa, four arms, lotus eyes, and a garland of forest flowers. The Yavana saw Krishna and thought, “No one else could be so—by these marks, this is surely Vāsudeva. He is unarmed and on foot; I shall fight Him unarmed as well.” With this resolve, the Yavana, intent on capturing Krishna, pursued Him as He fled—though Krishna is unattainable even to the greatest yogis. Hari led the Yavana step by step, always just out of reach, drawing him onward as if one could grasp his own reflection. Krishna led him into a mountain cave, always appearing at a distance. The Yavana, taunting as he ran—“Flight does not befit one born in the Yadu line!”—could not catch Him, no matter how he tried. At last, Krishna entered the cave, and the Yavana followed, only to find another man lying there, seemingly saintly and deep in sleep. Mistaking him for Krishna, the Yavana, in his folly, struck the sleeping man with his foot. Slowly, the sleeper awoke, opening his eyes after a long slumber. He looked around and saw the Yavana standing before him. In that instant, with a single angry glance, the sleeper unleashed a fire born of his own body, and the Yavana was instantly reduced to ashes. King Parikshit, hearing this, asked Śuka, “O brāhmaṇa, who was that man? What was his lineage and power? Why did he sleep in the cave, and what was the brilliance by which he destroyed the Yavana?” Śrī Śuka replied, “He was born in the Ikṣvāku dynasty, the great son of Māndhātṛ, renowned as Mucukunda—a king devoted to the brāhmaṇas and steadfast in truth. Long ago, the gods, led by Indra, requested Mucukunda to protect them from the asuras. He served as their protector for a long time. Eventually, the gods found Mucukunda in the cave and said, ‘O king, you may now lay down the hardships of protecting us. You have forsaken the world of men and a kingdom free from enemies; all your desires have been set aside for our sake. Your sons, wives, relatives, ministers, and counselors, as well as your subjects, are no longer alive. Time, the almighty and imperishable Lord, is stronger than the strong. He brings all beings to their end, just as a herdsman does with cattle. ‘Choose a boon, O fortunate one, except for liberation—for that is not ours to give. There is only one Lord, the imperishable Bhagavān Viṣṇu, who grants that supreme blessing.