Rukmiṇī, the noble princess of Vidarbha, poured out her heart in secret prayer. She thought, “If the Supreme Lord—the master of all, elder brother of Gada—is truly pleased with my worship and devotion, shown through charity, sacrifice, vows, rituals, and service to the gods, Brahmins, and elders, then let Him come and take my hand. Let Him, and not the son of Damaghoṣa or any other, become my husband.” She continued, “O unconquered one, tomorrow, as you come to Vidarbha for the wedding, concealed and protected by your chiefs, overpower the armies of Cedi and Magadha. Win me, whose bride-price is valor, according to the custom of the Rākṣasas, and take me away.” Anticipating his concern, she explained, “If you wonder how you might marry me, since I am kept within the inner chambers and closely guarded by my relatives, know this: On the day before the wedding, there is a grand procession to the family goddess. During this, the new bride goes outside to worship Girijā. That is your chance.” Her longing deepened as she remembered, “Great souls desire to bathe in the dust of your lotus feet, just as Lord Śiva does to destroy his own darkness. O lotus-eyed one, if I do not obtain your favor, let me give up this life, worn thin by vows, over hundreds of births.” Having received these secret words from Rukmiṇī, the Brahmin messenger concluded, “Thus I bring you these messages from the daughter of the Yadu dynasty. Consider what should be done, and act accordingly.” Śuka continued: When Kṛṣṇa, the son of the Yadus, heard the princess’s heartfelt message, he took the Brahmin by the hand, smiled, and replied, “I too cannot sleep at night, my mind fixed on her. I know that Rukmiṇī’s marriage to me was prevented by her brother out of enmity. But I will bring her here, seizing her from the assembly of kings in battle—she, who is flawless in form and devoted to me, like the sacred fire’s flame.” Knowing the auspicious hour for Rukmiṇī’s wedding, Madhusūdana turned to his charioteer. “Dāruka, quickly yoke the chariot!” he commanded. Dāruka brought forth the chariot, yoked with the swift horses Śaibya, Sugrīva, Meghapuṣpa, and Balāhaka, and stood before Kṛṣṇa with joined palms. Kṛṣṇa mounted the chariot, placed the Brahmin beside him, and, with the swift horses, traveled from Ānarta to Vidarbha in a single night. Meanwhile, the king of Kuṇḍina, out of deep affection for his son, began the wedding preparations to give his daughter to Śiśupāla. The city was cleaned and sprinkled; its roads and crossroads were adorned with colorful flags, banners, and arches. Men and women, dressed in spotless garments, adorned with garlands, fragrant flowers, and ornaments, filled the city, and the splendid houses were perfumed with aguru incense. The king performed the ancestral rites, worshipped the gods and Brahmins, fed them as tradition required, and had auspicious mantras recited. The beautiful Rukmiṇī, freshly bathed and adorned for the ceremony, was dressed in the finest clothes and ornaments. The foremost Brahmins performed protective rites for her, chanting from the Sāma, Ṛg, and Yajur Vedas, while the chief priest versed in Atharva Veda offered oblations to pacify the planets. The king, ever dutiful, gave gold, silver, garments, sesame mixed with jaggery, and cows to the Brahmins. Meanwhile, King Damaghoṣa, lord of Cedi, arranged everything for his son’s prosperity, employing experts in sacred mantras. He set out for Kuṇḍina with elephants in rut, gold-adorned chariots, and armies teeming with infantry and horses. The king of Vidarbha welcomed Damaghoṣa, honored him, and joyfully settled him in prepared quarters. Soon, Shalva, Jarasandha, Dantavaktra, Viduratha, and thousands of allies from Chedi and Paundra arrived—enemies of Kṛṣṇa and Balarāma, determined to secure the maiden for the Cedi prince and ready to fight if Kṛṣṇa and the Yadus appeared. All the assembled kings, with their armies and vehicles, gathered with their minds set on battle. Learning of this, Lord Balarāma, fearing for his brother, heard that Kṛṣṇa had gone alone to take the maiden. Filled with fraternal affection, Balarāma quickly set out for Kuṇḍina with a great force of elephants, horses, chariots, and infantry. Meanwhile, Rukmiṇī, longing for Hari’s arrival, saw no sign of him and pondered the Brahmin’s words. “Alas, 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 Brahmin who carried my message has not returned even today. 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 are the great lord Śiva, goddess Gaurī, Rudrāṇī, Girijā, or Satī.” Her heart thus troubled, the young maiden, her mind absorbed in thoughts of Govinda, closed her tear-filled eyes. As she awaited Govinda’s arrival, her left thigh, arm, and eye—beloved for their auspiciousness—began to tremble, a sign of hope. At that moment, as Kṛṣṇa had instructed, the Brahmin entered the inner chambers and saw the princess. She greeted him with a delighted face and a calm mind, her smile radiant as she questioned him, skilled in reading signs. He informed her that the son of the Yadu dynasty had arrived, and conveyed Kṛṣṇa’s truthful words about the self-marriage. Hearing he had come, the princess’s heart overflowed with joy; she could not even look at the Brahmin, for he was now dear to her in another way. Soon, Kṛṣṇa and Balarāma arrived, eager to witness the wedding. Music played in their honor, and they were welcomed with all proper rites. Honey and milk, pure garments, and desired gifts were brought forth, and they were worshipped as tradition prescribed. A splendid residence was prepared for the two brothers, their armies, and their attendants, and they were offered every appropriate hospitality. The assembled kings, each according to his valor, age, strength, and wealth, were honored with all the offerings they desired. Thus, the stage was set for the divine union, amidst the gathered kings and the auspicious rites, as the hearts of Rukmiṇī and Kṛṣṇa drew ever closer.