With great reverence and hospitality, the host brought honey and milk, pure garments, and other desired gifts, and worshipped Krishna and his companion according to the proper rites. He prepared a splendid residence for the two, along with their armies and attendants, offering them every courtesy. To the assembled kings, he honored each one with offerings suited to their valor, age, strength, and wealth. Word spread swiftly through Vidarbha that Krishna had arrived. The city’s residents, eager and joyful, came forth and gazed upon Krishna’s lotus-like face, their hands respectfully joined at their eyes. In their hearts, they knew: only Rukmini was worthy to be his wife, and Krishna, flawless in nature, was the proper husband for Bhishma’s daughter. With humility, they prayed that whatever little good they had done might please the creator of the three worlds, and that Achyuta would accept the hand of the Vidarbha princess. Bound by the thread of love, the townspeople spoke thus, while the maiden Rukmini, guarded by soldiers, left the inner chambers and proceeded to the temple of Ambika. She walked on foot, intent on worshipping the tender feet of Bhavani, yet her thoughts remained fixed on the lotus feet of Mukunda. Surrounded by her mothers and friends, and protected by brave royal soldiers clad in armor and bearing raised weapons, the air resounded with the sounds of drums, conches, cymbals, trumpets, and kettle-drums. Thousands of noble women, richly adorned, brought offerings—garlands, perfumes, garments, ornaments—for the priests. Singers and musicians, bards, genealogists, and heralds surrounded the bride, singing and praising her as she made her way. At the goddess’s abode, Rukmini washed her feet and hands, purified and peaceful, and entered the presence of Ambika. The elderly and wise wives of the Brahmins, accompanied by Bhavani, worshipped Ambika, the wife of Bhava, endowed with prosperity. With devotion, Rukmini bowed to Ambika again and again, praying, “May my husband be the blessed Krishna; may you be pleased with this.” The women worshipped the goddess with fragrant substances, unbroken rice, incense, garments, garlands, ornaments, various offerings and food, and rows of lamps. Brahmin women and their husbands offered salt, cakes, betel leaves, necklaces, fruits, and sugarcane. After worship, they gave Rukmini the remnants and offered their blessings, which she accepted with humility. Having completed her vows, Rukmini departed from Ambika’s house, holding her maidservant’s hand, her own 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, and 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 like jasmine buds, and graceful swan-like gait were accompanied by the gentle sound of her tinkling anklets. As she approached, the assembled heroes, renowned and overcome with love for her, fainted. The kings, their minds captivated by her noble smile and bashful glances, dropped their weapons. 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 and glancing modestly at the assembled kings, she saw Acyuta. As the royal maiden was mounting the chariot, Krishna seized her before the eyes of his rivals. He placed her on the chariot marked with Garuda and, disregarding the assembly of kings, departed slowly, led by Rama—like a lion taking its prey from among jackals. Those proud kings, unable to endure their defeat and the loss of fame—especially Jarasandha 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 continued: All of them, greatly enraged, mounted their vehicles, armed themselves, and, surrounded by their armies, pursued Krishna and his companions with drawn bows. Seeing their advance, the chiefs of the Yadava army stood ready, 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, looked at Krishna’s face with bashful, fear-stricken eyes. The Lord smiled and reassured her, “Do not fear, O lotus-eyed one; this hostile force will now be destroyed by your own kin.” Unable to tolerate their valor, Gada, Sankarshana, and the other heroes struck the horses, elephants, and chariots with iron arrows. The heads of charioteers, horsemen, and elephant riders, adorned with earrings, crowns, and turbans, fell to the earth by the thousands. Arms with swords, maces, and bows, elephants, thighs, feet, horses, mules, camels, oxen, donkeys, and the heads of men—all fell in the fierce battle. As their forces were destroyed by the Vṛṣṇis, who sought victory, the kings, led by Jarasandha, turned away and departed. They approached Śiśupāla, who was like a man distressed after his wife had been taken, his brilliance lost, enthusiasm gone, and mouth parched. They spoke words of comfort: “O best of men, cast off this sorrow! Among embodied beings, O king, no one sees lasting happiness or distress. Just as a wooden puppet woman dances by the will of the magician, so too, one under the control of the Lord acts in happiness and sorrow. For seventeen days I was defeated in battle by Śauri, but on the eighteenth day, with twenty-three armies, I gained victory over him. Still, I neither grieve nor rejoice at any time, knowing that the world is driven by time joined with destiny. Even now, all of us, chiefs of mighty warriors, have been defeated by the Yadus, protected by Krishna, through their cunning strategies.