Rukmini, the princess of Vidarbha, sat in her chambers, her heart heavy with longing and uncertainty. Three nights had passed since her wedding ceremony, yet the lotus-eyed Krishna, whom she loved so dearly, had not come for her. She was blameless, but the Brahmin she had sent with her message to Krishna had not returned, and she did not know why. Perhaps, she thought, Krishna had seen some fault in her and now hesitated to take her hand, despite his earlier resolve. Feeling forsaken, Rukmini lamented her unfortunate fate. The creator did not seem favorable to her, nor did the great lord Shiva, nor the goddess Gauri, Rudrani, Girija, or Sati. Her mind, captivated by thoughts of Govinda, reflected on the passage of time, and she closed her tear-filled eyes. As she awaited Govinda’s arrival, her left thigh, arm, and eye began to tremble—a sign of auspiciousness—while she pondered the meaning of these omens. Then, as instructed by Krishna, the foremost Brahmin entered the inner chambers and saw the princess moving within. Rukmini greeted him with a delighted face and an undisturbed mind, her smile pure, and, skilled in recognizing signs, she questioned him. The Brahmin informed her that Krishna, the son of the Yadu dynasty, had arrived, and conveyed the truthful words spoken regarding the self-marriage. Hearing this, Rukmini’s heart overflowed with joy. She did not look directly at the Brahmin, for he was dear to her in another way. Meanwhile, Rama and Krishna arrived, eager to witness Rukmini’s wedding, accompanied by the sounds of musical instruments and proper honors. They were received with honey and milk, pure garments, and desired gifts, and were worshipped according to proper rites. The wise king prepared a splendid residence for them, their armies, and attendants, offering hospitality as appropriate. He honored the assembled kings according to their valor, age, strength, and wealth, giving them all desired offerings. News of Krishna’s arrival spread through Vidarbha city, and its residents came to gaze upon his lotus face, their hands joined reverently at their eyes. They spoke among themselves: “Only Rukmini is fit to be his wife, not another; and he, flawless in nature, is the proper husband for Bhishma’s daughter. Whatever little good we have done, by that the creator of the three worlds is pleased; may Achyuta accept the hand of the Vidarbha princess.” Bound by the thread of love, the townspeople expressed their wishes, while Rukmini, guarded by soldiers, left the inner chambers and proceeded to the temple of Ambika. She walked on foot to see the tender feet of Bhavani, but as she walked, her mind was fully absorbed in contemplating the lotus feet of Mukunda. Surrounded by her mothers and friends, and guarded by brave royal soldiers clad in armor and bearing raised weapons, she proceeded amid the sounds of drums, conches, cymbals, trumpets, and kettle-drums. Thousands of noble women, richly adorned, brought offerings, garlands, perfumes, garments, and ornaments for the priests. Singers and musicians sang and praised her, while bards, genealogists, and heralds surrounded the bride. Arriving at the goddess’s abode, Rukmini washed her feet and hands, purified and peaceful, and entered the presence of Ambika. The elderly and knowledgeable wives of the Brahmins, accompanied by Bhavani, worshipped her, the wife of Bhava, endowed with prosperity. Rukmini bowed repeatedly to Ambika, praying, “May my husband be the blessed Krishna; may you be pleased with this.” Fragrant substances, unbroken rice, incense, garments, garlands, ornaments, various offerings and food, and rows of lamps were presented. The Brahmin women, together with their husbands, worshipped Ambika with salt, cakes, betel leaves, necklaces, fruits, and sugarcane. The women gave Rukmini the remnants and their blessings, and she bowed to them and accepted the offerings. Abandoning her vow of silence, Rukmini departed from Ambika’s house, holding her maidservant by the hand, her hand adorned with a jeweled ring. With a slender waist, her face adorned with earrings and jewels, dark-complexioned, a jeweled girdle on her hips, her breasts prominent, her glances concealed by curling locks, she appeared like the enchanting, steadfast Māyā of the gods. Her pure smile, lips shining like bimba fruit, teeth resembling jasmine buds, and graceful swan-like gait made her shine, accompanied by the gentle sound of tinkling anklets. Beholding her, the assembled heroes, renowned and overcome with love, fainted. The kings, their minds stolen by her noble smile and bashful glances, dropped their weapons in awe. Those bewildered, illustrious kings, seated on elephants, chariots, and horses, fell to the ground as Rukmini, under the pretext of a procession, offered her own splendor to Hari. Moving slowly, her lotus-like feet shifting, she looked toward the approach of the Lord. Brushing aside her hair with the fingers of her left hand, glancing sideways, she modestly looked at the kings who had come and saw Acyuta. As the royal maiden was mounting the chariot, Krishna seized her before the eyes of his rivals. Having placed her on the chariot marked with Garuḍa, Mādhava, disregarding the assembly of kings, departed slowly, led by Rāma, like a lion taking away its prey from among jackals. The proud kings, unable to endure their defeat and loss of fame—especially Jarāsandha and his allies—cried out in anguish, “Alas, shame upon us! Armed with weapons, we have been robbed by cowherds, like lions taking deer from among other beasts.” Śuka then spoke: All the kings, greatly enraged, mounted their vehicles, armed themselves, and surrounded by their armies, pursued Krishna and Rukmini with drawn bows. Seeing them advancing, the chiefs of the Yādava army stood facing them, their bows stretched and resounding. Skilled in weapons, standing on horses, elephants, and chariots, they released showers of arrows, like clouds pouring rain upon mountains. Seeing her husband’s army covered by torrents of arrows, Rukmini, slender-waisted and bashful, looked at Krishna with fear-stricken eyes. The Lord, smiling, reassured her: “Do not fear, O lotus-eyed one; this hostile force of yours will now be destroyed by your own kin.