Rukmini, her heart aching with longing, began to doubt her own worth. “Perhaps,” she thought, “the faultless Lord hesitates now to take my hand in marriage, having seen some flaw in me, though he once resolved to do so.” She lamented her misfortune, feeling that fate itself, along with the great Lord Shiva and goddesses like Gauri, Rudrani, Girija, and Sati, had turned against her. Captivated by thoughts of Govinda, the maiden closed her tear-filled eyes, pondering the workings of time. As she waited anxiously for Govinda’s arrival, her left thigh, arm, and eye—all considered auspicious—began to tremble, as if signaling a coming change. At that very moment, a foremost Brahmin, following Krishna’s instructions, entered the inner chambers and saw the princess. Rukmini, her face lighting up with delight and her mind steady, recognized him at once. With a pure smile, she questioned him, skilled as she was in reading signs. The Brahmin conveyed Krishna’s message: the son of the Yadu dynasty had arrived, and he faithfully relayed the Lord’s words about the self-choice ceremony. Hearing this, Rukmini’s heart overflowed with joy. Out of deep affection, she could not even bring herself to look at the Brahmin, for he was dear to her in another way—as Krishna’s messenger. Meanwhile, eager to witness the wedding of his daughter, Bhishmaka welcomed Rama and Krishna with great honor, accompanied by the sounds of musical instruments. He brought honey, milk, pure garments, and precious gifts, worshipping the brothers with proper rites. He prepared a splendid residence for them, their armies, and attendants, and offered hospitality befitting their status. The assembled kings, too, were honored according to their valor, age, strength, and wealth, receiving all the offerings they desired. News of Krishna’s arrival spread quickly, and the people of Vidarbha flocked to see him. With hands joined reverently at their eyes, they drank in the beauty of Krishna’s lotus-like face. They whispered among themselves, “Only Rukmini is worthy to be his wife, and he alone, flawless in nature, is the right husband for Bhishmaka’s daughter. Whatever little good we have done, may it please the Lord of the three worlds. May Achyuta accept the hand of our princess.” Bound by love, the townspeople spoke thus as Rukmini left her inner chambers for the temple of Ambika, surrounded by royal guards. On foot, she made her way to worship the tender feet of Bhavani, but her mind was wholly absorbed in the lotus feet of Mukunda. She was accompanied by her mothers, friends, and a retinue of brave soldiers clad in armor, their weapons raised. The air resounded with the music of drums, conches, cymbals, trumpets, and kettle-drums. Thousands of noble women, adorned with ornaments, carried offerings—garlands, perfumes, garments, and ornaments—for the priests. Singers and musicians sang her praises, while bards, genealogists, and heralds surrounded her, glorifying the occasion. Upon reaching the goddess’s abode, Rukmini washed her hands and feet and, purified and peaceful, entered the presence of Ambika. The elderly and wise wives of the Brahmins, along with Bhavani herself, worshipped the goddess, who is ever-blessed and endowed with prosperity. With deep devotion, Rukmini bowed and prayed, “O Ambika, I bow to you again and again, auspicious mother, accompanied by your children. May blessed Krishna become my husband—may you be pleased with this prayer.” The Brahmin women, together with their husbands, worshipped the goddess using fragrant substances, unbroken rice, incense, garments, garlands, ornaments, various offerings, food, and rows of lamps. They also offered salt, cakes, betel leaves, necklaces, fruits, and sugarcane. The women then gave Rukmini the remnants of these offerings and bestowed their blessings upon her. Bowing to them, the bride accepted these sacred gifts. At last, ending her vow of silence, Rukmini departed from Ambika’s house, holding her maidservant’s hand. Her hand sparkled with a jeweled ring, her slender waist adorned with a jeweled girdle, her face radiant with earrings and jewels. Her dark complexion, prominent breasts, and glances hidden by curling locks gave her the appearance of the enchanting and steadfast Māyā of the gods. Her smile was pure, her lips red as bimba fruit, her teeth like jasmine buds, and she walked with the grace of a swan, anklets tinkling sweetly as she moved. As Rukmini proceeded, the assembled heroes—famed warriors—were overcome by love for her, some even fainting at the sight of her noble smile and bashful glances. Bewildered, the kings dropped their weapons, their minds stolen by her beauty. Seated on elephants, chariots, and horses, they were so entranced that some fell to the ground. Under the pretext of a wedding procession, Rukmini, her lotus-like feet moving slowly, offered her radiance to Hari, all the while looking for the approach of the Lord. Brushing aside her hair with her left hand, she cast sidelong, modest glances at the assembled kings. Then, she saw Acyuta—Krishna himself. As the royal maiden was mounting the chariot, Krishna seized her before the very eyes of his rivals. He placed her on his chariot, emblazoned with the emblem of Garuda, and, heedless of the assembled kings, departed slowly, led by Rama. It was as if a lion had carried off its prey from among jackals. The proud kings, unable to bear their defeat and loss of honor—especially Jarasandha and his allies—cried out in shame, “Alas! Armed with weapons, we have been robbed by cowherds, just as lions snatch deer from lesser beasts.” Śuka continued: Enraged, all the kings mounted their vehicles, armed themselves, and, surrounded by their armies, pursued Krishna and his party with drawn bows. Seeing their approach, the chiefs of the Yadava army stood firm, bows stretched and resounding. Skilled in the use of weapons, the Yadava warriors, mounted on horses, elephants, and chariots, unleashed showers of arrows, much like clouds pouring rain upon mountains. Witnessing the army of her beloved covered by a torrent of arrows, the slender-waisted Rukmini gazed at Krishna’s face, her eyes bashful and filled with fear. But the Lord, smiling gently, reassured her: “Do not fear, O lotus-eyed one. This hostile force will now be vanquished by your own kin.” With that, Gada, Sankarshana, and the other Yadava heroes, unable to tolerate the enemy’s might, struck down the opposing horses, elephants, and chariots with their iron arrows, displaying their valor for all to see.