Rukmiṇī, her heart overflowing, addressed Krishna, the beauty of all worlds. “O infallible one,” she confessed, “having heard of Your virtues—how they dispel the suffering of those who merely listen—my mind, with no shame, has entered into You through the channels of my ears. And now, having beheld Your form, which fulfills every desire for those who see it, my heart is utterly captivated.” She continued, “O Mukunda, what noble maiden of discerning mind and good family would not choose You as her husband? In lineage, character, beauty, knowledge, age, wealth, and glory, You are matchless—equal only to Yourself. You delight the minds of all, O lion among men.” With earnest longing, Rukmiṇī declared, “Therefore, O Lord, I have chosen You as my husband. Please accept me as Your wife, for I have offered myself to You. Let not the king of Cedi, like a jackal snatching the lion’s rightful share, touch what belongs to the hero, O lotus-eyed one.” She then prayed, “If the Supreme Lord, the master of all and elder brother of Gada, is truly pleased with my worship—through charity, sacrifice, vows, rituals, and service to the gods, brahmins, and elders—may He come and take my hand, and not the son of Damaghoṣa or anyone else.” With hope and urgency, she revealed her plan: “Tomorrow, O unconquered one, when You come to Vidarbha for the marriage, come concealed and surrounded by Your chiefs. Overpower the forces of Cedi and Magadha, and win me by force—my bride-price is valor—according to the custom of the Rākṣasas.” Anticipating his doubts, she explained, “If You wonder how I, kept within the inner chambers and guarded by relatives, can be married by You, I will tell You: On the day before the wedding, there is a great procession to the family goddess, when the bride steps outside to worship Girijā.” With devotion, she concluded, “Great souls yearn to bathe in the dust of Your lotus feet, just as Lord Śiva does to dispel his own darkness. O lotus-eyed one, if I do not win Your favor, let me give up this life, worn thin by vows, over hundreds of births.” The brāhmaṇa who carried her secret message then spoke to Krishna, “Thus I have brought these words from the princess of the Yadu dynasty. Consider what should be done, and act accordingly.” Śuka then described what happened next. Hearing the message from the princess of Vidarbha, Krishna, the son of the Yadus, took the brāhmaṇa by the hand, smiled, and spoke. “I too,” Krishna admitted, “am unable to sleep at night, my mind absorbed in her. I know that Rukmiṇī’s marriage to me was thwarted by her brother out of enmity. But I will bring her here, seizing her from the assembly of kings in battle—she who is devoted to me, flawless in form, like the sacred flame.” Knowing the auspicious time for Rukmiṇī’s wedding, Krishna, the slayer of Madhu, instructed his charioteer, “Dāruka, quickly yoke the chariot.” Dāruka brought forth the chariot, yoked with the horses Śaibya, Sugrīva, Meghapuṣpa, and Balāhaka, and stood before Krishna with joined palms. Krishna mounted the chariot, seated the brāhmaṇa beside him, and, with the swift horses, journeyed from Ānarta to Vidarbha in a single night. Meanwhile, the king of Kuṇḍina, moved by deep affection for his son, began wedding preparations to give his daughter to Śiśupāla. The city was thoroughly cleansed and sprinkled; its roads, streets, and crossroads adorned with colorful flags, banners, and arches. The people, men and women alike, wore spotless garments, garlands, fragrant flowers, and ornaments. Their houses shone, perfumed with aguru incense. The king worshipped the ancestors, gods, and brāhmaṇas, fed them according to custom, and had auspicious rites recited. The beautiful Rukmiṇī, freshly bathed and adorned for the ceremony, was dressed in fine garments and decorated with exquisite ornaments. The foremost brāhmaṇas performed protective rites for the bride, chanting from the Sāma, Ṛg, and Yajur Vedas, while the chief priest, versed in the Atharva Veda, offered oblations to pacify planetary influences. The king, ever dutiful, gave gold, silver, garments, sesame mixed with jaggery, and cows to the brāhmaṇas. King Damaghoṣa, lord of Cedi, arranged everything for his son’s prosperity, employing experts in mantras. With intoxicated elephants, gold-adorned chariots, and armies crowded with infantry and horses, he proceeded to Kuṇḍina. The king of Vidarbha welcomed him, honored him, and joyfully settled him in prepared accommodations. There, Shalva, Jarāsandha, Dantavaktra, Viduratha, and thousands of allies from Cedi and Paundra gathered—enemies of Krishna and Rama, determined that the maiden should go to the Cedi prince. They resolved to fight if Krishna and the Yadus came to take her, and all the kings assembled with their armies and vehicles, their minds set on battle. Hearing of the gathering opposition, Lord Balarama, fearing conflict, learned that Krishna had gone alone to claim the maiden. Filled with affection for his brother, Balarama quickly set out for Kuṇḍina with a great force of elephants, horses, chariots, and infantry. Meanwhile, the princess of Bhīṣmaka, noble and beautiful, longed for Hari’s arrival. Seeing no sign of him, she pondered the brāhmaṇa’s words. “Alas,” she thought, “three nights have passed since my wedding, though I am blameless. The lotus-eyed one does not come, and I do not know why. The brāhmaṇa who bore my message has not returned.” She wondered, “Perhaps, seeing some fault in me, the faultless one now hesitates to take my hand, though he had resolved to do so. My fate is unfortunate; the creator is not favorable to me, nor Lord Śiva, nor Gaurī, Rudrāṇī, Girijā, or Satī.” Thus, her mind absorbed in Govinda, the young maiden reflected on the passage of time and closed her tear-filled eyes. As she waited for Govinda’s arrival, her left thigh, arm, and eye—beloved for their auspicious signs—began to tremble. Then, as Krishna had instructed, the foremost brāhmaṇa entered the inner chambers and saw the princess. Seeing him, her face lit with delight and her mind undisturbed, she, skilled in recognizing signs, questioned him, her smile pure. The brāhmaṇa informed her that the son of the Yadu dynasty had arrived and conveyed Krishna’s truthful words regarding the self-marriage. Knowing he had come, the princess of Vidarbha, her heart filled with joy, did not look at the brāhmaṇa, for he was dear to her in another way. At last, hearing of Krishna and Balarama’s arrival and eager to witness his daughter’s wedding, the king welcomed them. Rama and Krishna entered, accompanied by the sounds of musical instruments and bringing all due honors, ready to fulfill the destiny that awaited.