O Unconquered Lord, my life has slipped away fruitlessly, wasted in the intoxication of royal luxury. As a king, I was absorbed in the fleeting notion of my own importance, deeply attached to my children, wife, wealth, and possessions, and tormented by endless anxieties. In this body, which is as fragile as a clay pot, I was established as the king of men, surrounded by chariots, elephants, horses, infantry, and retinues. Roaming the earth in arrogance, I counted no one else as my equal. Intoxicated by power, my mind was constantly agitated with loud thoughts of what I might do next, my greed ever increasing and my craving for sense pleasures growing. But You, O Death, unbewildered and sudden, approached me as unexpectedly as a snake licking at the entrance to a mouse's hole. Once, I rode in chariots adorned with gold or mounted mighty elephants, hailed as king of men. Yet, by the inescapable force of time, this very body is destined to become nothing but excrement, worms, or ashes. Having conquered the world and assuming a form as vast as the earth, seated on a splendid throne and honored by other kings, a man is nevertheless led, O Lord, like a plaything of women, into the pleasures of home, as a beast for their sport. Even one who performs actions, established in austerity, renouncing enjoyment and giving charity as required, again desires, “May I become a sovereign king,” and with ever-growing thirst, never finds happiness. But when, after wandering through worldly existence, a person attains liberation, O Infallible One, it is then that he gains the association of the virtuous. And when such association occurs, at that very moment, devotion to You, Lord of all, arises. O Lord, I consider it Your favor upon me that, by chance, attachment to kingdom has been removed—something sought by the virtuous, who, desiring to enter the forest, renounce the unbroken expanse of land. O Master, I desire no boon other 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 choose any other boon that binds the soul? Therefore, O Lord, abandoning all desires everywhere—desires bound to the qualities of passion, ignorance, and goodness—I approach You, the pure, qualityless, nondual, supreme Person, who is pure consciousness. Long tormented here by suffering and remorse, afflicted by enemies such as thirst, never finding peace, I have somehow come to Your lotus feet, O shelter-giving Supreme Soul. Protect me, O Lord, who am helpless, with fearlessness, immortality, and freedom from sorrow. The Blessed Lord replied, “O great king, ruler of the earth, your mind is pure and steadfast. Even when tempted by boons, it has not been disturbed by desires. Know that your being tempted by 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, is seen to rise again, even after control through breath and other means. Roam the earth as you wish, with your mind absorbed in Me; may you always have unwavering devotion to Me. While established in the duty of a warrior, you have killed creatures in hunting and other ways; but, being intent on this austerity and taking refuge in Me, cast off sin. In your next birth, O king, you will become the best of twice-born, a supreme friend to all beings, and you will attain Me alone.” Śuka said: Thus, O dear one, having been favored by Kṛṣṇa, the son of Ikṣvāku circumambulated Him, bowed down, and departed from the mouth of the cave. Observing the small humans, animals, herbs, and trees, and realizing that the age of Kali had arrived, he went toward the northern direction. Endowed with austerity and faith, resolute, free from attachment and doubt, he fixed his mind on Kṛṣṇa and entered Gandhamādana. Reaching Badarī-āśrama, the abode of Nara and Nārāyaṇa, he, enduring all dualities and peaceful, worshipped Hari through austerities. Meanwhile, the Lord returned again to the city surrounded by Yavanas, slew the barbarian forces, and brought their wealth to Dvārakā. As the wealth was being transported with cows and men, urged by Acyuta, Jarāsandha, the king with twenty-three armies, arrived. Seeing the enemy army advancing swiftly and forcefully, the two Mādhavas, adopting human ways, quickly fled, O King. Abandoning abundant wealth, fearless though appearing afraid like cowards, they traveled many yojanas on foot with 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 becoming exhausted, they climbed a high mountain called Pravarṣaṇa, where it always rains. Not finding their tracks on the mountain, the king, thinking them hidden, set fire to the mountain on all sides with burning materials. Then, leaping swiftly from the burning slope, 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 again to their city, which was protected by the ocean, O King. Believing falsely that Balarāma and Keśava had been burned, the king of Magadha withdrew his vast army and returned to Magadha. The illustrious king of Ānarta, Raivata, prompted by Brahmā, gave his daughter Raivatī to Baladeva, as previously declared. 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, before the eyes of all people, he took her as Garuḍa took the nectar. The king said: It is heard that the Lord married Rukmiṇī, the beautiful-faced daughter of Bhīṣmaka, by the rākṣasa rite. O Lord, I wish to hear how Krishna, of immeasurable brilliance, after conquering Jarasandha, Shalva, and others, brought the maiden as his bride. O Brahman, who indeed could ever be satiated by hearing the sacred stories of Krishna—sweet as honey, purifying the world of its impurities, ever fresh, and always new, even for those well-versed in them? Śrī Bādarāyaṇa said: There was a great king named Bhīṣmaka, lord of Vidarbha; he had five sons and one daughter of exceptional beauty. The eldest was Rukmi, followed by Rukmaratha, then Rukmabāhu, Rukmakeśa, and Rukmamālī; and their virtuous sister was Rukmiṇī. Hearing, from those who came to her house, the praises of Mukunda’s beauty, valor, virtues, and glory, she considered him a worthy husband.