O sinless one, consider how rare and precious it is to be born as a human being in this world, endowed with a sound body and mind. Yet, if someone, through a misguided heart, fails to worship the lotus feet of the Lord, such a person, despite every advantage, falls into the dark, confining well of household life, much like an animal caught in a trap. Addressing the Unconquered Lord, the speaker laments: My time on earth has passed in vain. As a king, I was intoxicated by royal splendor, my mind absorbed in the fleeting identity of the body and attached deeply to family, wealth, and possessions. I was tormented by endless anxieties, never at peace. In this body, so fragile and perishable like a clay pot, I was hailed as the king of men, surrounded by chariots, elephants, horses, and armies. I roamed the earth in pride, considering myself above all others. Intoxicated by power and ever-increasing greed, my mind was filled with loud, restless thoughts of what to do next, always craving sense pleasures. But You, O Lord, remain unbewildered; You approach suddenly, like death itself—a snake silently entering a mouse’s hole—catching the deluded unawares. Once, I rode in golden chariots and on mighty elephants, celebrated as king of men. Yet, by the inescapable force of time, this very body will become nothing but excrement, worms, or ashes. Even after conquering all directions, assuming a form as grand as the earth, seated on a glorious throne and honored by other kings, a man is still led, O Lord, like a plaything of women, into the pleasures of home—reduced to a beast for their sport. Even those who perform good works, practice austerity, renounce enjoyment, and give charity as prescribed, again develop the desire, “May I become a sovereign king!”—their thirst for pleasure ever-increasing, never finding true happiness. But when, after wandering the pathways of worldly existence, a person attains liberation, O Infallible One, only then does he gain the association of the virtuous. And at that very moment, devotion to You, Lord of all, arises in his heart. Thus, O Lord, I see it as Your special favor that, by Your grace, my attachment to kingdom and power has been severed—something the truly virtuous seek by renouncing even the greatest realms to enter the forest. O Master, I desire no other boon than service at Your feet, which is most sought after even by those who possess nothing. For who, having worshiped You, the giver of liberation, would ask for any other boon that only binds the soul further? Therefore, O Lord, I abandon all desires, everywhere, which are tied to passion, ignorance, and even goodness. I approach You—the pure, qualityless, nondual Supreme Person, who is pure consciousness. Long have I been tormented here by suffering and regret, beset by enemies such as insatiable thirst, never finding peace. Yet now, by some fortune, I have reached Your lotus feet, O Supreme Soul who gives shelter. Protect me, O Lord, who am helpless—grant me fearlessness, immortality, and freedom from sorrow. Then the Blessed Lord spoke: “O great king, ruler of the earth, your mind is pure and unwavering. Even when offered boons, you were not disturbed by desires. Know that My tempting you with boons was only to test your vigilance, for the mind of those with exclusive devotion is never shaken by blessings. For those who practice yoga but lack devotion, O king, the mind—with its undiminished desires—rises again, even after being controlled by breath or other means. Therefore, roam the earth as you please, your mind absorbed in Me; may your devotion to Me remain constant and unwavering. Though you have killed creatures in hunting and other duties of a warrior, by performing this austerity and taking refuge in Me, you cast off all sin. In your next birth, O king, you will become the best among the twice-born, a supreme friend to all beings, and you will attain Me alone.” Śuka then continued: Thus, O dear one, having been blessed by Kṛṣṇa, the son of Ikṣvāku circumambulated the Lord, bowed low, and departed from the mouth of the cave. As he traveled, he observed the smallness of people, animals, herbs, and trees, and realized that the age of Kali had arrived. Turning northward, endowed with austerity and faith, resolute and free from attachment and doubt, he fixed his mind upon Kṛṣṇa and entered the region of Gandhamādana. At last, he reached Badarī-āśrama, the sacred abode of Nara and Nārāyaṇa. There, enduring all dualities and remaining peaceful, he worshiped Hari through austerities. Meanwhile, the Lord returned to the city surrounded by Yavanas, slew the barbarian forces, and brought their wealth to Dvārakā. As the wealth was being transported along with cows and men, Jarāsandha, king of Magadha, arrived with twenty-three armies, spurred on by Acyuta. Seeing the enemy army advancing swiftly and with great force, the two Mādhavas, acting according to human ways, quickly fled, O King. Though they abandoned great wealth and appeared to flee in fear like cowards, they were in truth fearless, traveling many yojanas on foot with their lotus-like feet. Seeing the two fleeing, the mighty king of Magadha laughed and pursued them with his chariot divisions, unaware of their true power. After running a great distance and growing weary, the two ascended a high mountain called Pravarṣaṇa, where rain falls perpetually. Unable to find their tracks, the king assumed they were hiding and set fire to the mountain on all sides using burning materials. Then, leaping swiftly from the burning slopes, both descended from the ten-yojana-high peak to the ground below. Unseen by the enemy and his followers, the best of the Yadus returned to their city, protected by the ocean, O King. Believing that Balarāma and Keśava had perished in the fire, the king of Magadha withdrew his vast army and returned to Magadha. In the meantime, the illustrious king of Ānarta, Raivata, prompted by Brahmā, gave his daughter Raivatī to Baladeva, as had been foretold. Govinda, the Lord, also married Vaidarbhī, the daughter of Bhīṣmaka and mother of Śrī, at her own svayaṃvara, O best of the Kurus. Having overpowered the kings—Śālva and the allies of Cedi—by force, and before the eyes of all people, he took her as swiftly as Garuḍa seizes nectar. The king then asked: “It is said that the Lord married Rukmiṇī, the beautiful daughter of Bhīṣmaka, by the rākṣasa rite. O Lord, I wish to hear how Kṛṣṇa, of immeasurable brilliance, after conquering Jarāsandha, Śālva, and others, brought the maiden as his bride. Who could ever tire of hearing the sacred stories of Kṛṣṇa—sweet as honey, purifying the world, ever fresh and ever new, even for those well-versed in them?” Śrī Bādarāyaṇa replied: There was a great king named Bhīṣmaka, the lord of Vidarbha. He had five sons and one daughter of exceptional beauty. The eldest son was Rukmi, followed by Rukmaratha, then Rukmabāhu, Rukmakeśa, and Rukmamālī, and their virtuous sister was Rukmiṇī.