The wise ruler of Vidarbha, understanding the importance of hospitality and honor, prepared a splendid residence for Krishna and Balarama, along with their armies and attendants. He welcomed them with great care, ensuring that every detail was perfect for their comfort. Not only did he honor Krishna and Balarama, but he also extended his hospitality to the assembled kings, offering each one gifts and respect according to their valor, age, strength, and wealth. Every desire was met, and each guest was made to feel honored. News of Krishna’s arrival spread swiftly through Vidarbha. The city’s residents, filled with joy and reverence, flocked to see him. With hands respectfully raised to their eyes, they gazed upon Krishna’s lotus-like face, drinking in his divine beauty. In their hearts, they felt certain: only Rukmini was worthy to be Krishna’s wife, and only Krishna—flawless in every way—was the proper husband for Bhishmaka’s daughter. They prayed that whatever good deeds they had performed might please the creator of the three worlds, and that Achyuta, Krishna himself, would accept the hand of the princess of Vidarbha. Bound by love, the townspeople spoke these heartfelt words among themselves. Meanwhile, Rukmini, the maiden at the center of all hearts, left the inner chambers for the temple of Ambika, the goddess, surrounded and guarded by soldiers. She set out on foot, her mind fixed on worshiping the tender feet of Bhavani, yet her heart was fully absorbed in contemplating the lotus feet of Mukunda, Krishna. Rukmini was accompanied by her mothers and friends, all surrounded by brave royal soldiers clad in shining armor, weapons raised in vigilant protection. The air resounded with the music of drums, conches, cymbals, trumpets, and kettle-drums, marking the auspiciousness of her journey. Thousands of noble women, adorned in their finest, carried offerings: garlands, perfumes, garments, and ornaments for the priests. Singers and musicians surrounded the bride, filling the air with songs and praises, while bards, genealogists, and heralds announced her lineage and glory. Arriving at the goddess’s abode, Rukmini washed her feet and hands, purified herself, and entered the peaceful presence of Ambika. The elderly and wise wives of the Brahmins, along with Bhavani, worshipped the goddess, the consort of Bhava, invoking her prosperity and blessings. With folded hands, Rukmini bowed repeatedly before Ambika, praying, “O auspicious Ambika, always surrounded by your children, may you be pleased to grant that Krishna, the blessed one, becomes my husband.” The rituals were performed with fragrant substances, unbroken rice, incense, garments, garlands, ornaments, various offerings of food, and rows of lamps. The Brahmin women and their husbands worshipped the goddess with salt, cakes, betel leaves, necklaces, fruits, and sugarcane. The women then gave Rukmini the remnants of the offerings and their heartfelt blessings, which she accepted with deep reverence, bowing to them. Having completed her vows and worship, Rukmini set aside her silence and left the temple, holding her maidservant’s hand. Her delicate hand sparkled with a jeweled ring. Slender-waisted, her face adorned with earrings and jewels, her dark complexion glowing, a jeweled girdle encircling her hips, and her beauty enhanced by her curling locks, she moved with a grace that seemed to embody the very Māyā of the gods—enchanting and steadfast. Her pure smile shone like bimba fruit, her teeth like jasmine buds. She walked with the graceful gait of a swan, her anklets tinkling softly, making her presence even more enchanting. As the heroes and kings beheld her, they were overcome with love and awe; many fainted at the sight of her noble smile and bashful glances, dropping their weapons, their hearts utterly captivated. The illustrious kings, seated on elephants, chariots, and horses, were bewildered and entranced. As Rukmini moved slowly through the procession, her lotus-like feet shifting delicately, she glanced toward the approach of the Lord, her own inner radiance shining forth as if offered to Hari himself. Gently brushing aside her hair with her left hand, Rukmini cast a modest, sidelong glance at the assembled kings. Then, as she prepared to mount the chariot, she saw Acyuta—Krishna himself. In that very moment, before the eyes of all her rivals, Krishna seized Rukmini and lifted her onto his chariot. Placing her on the chariot marked with Garuda, Krishna—Madhava—paid no heed to the assembly of kings. Led by Balarama, they departed slowly, like a lion carrying away its prey from among a pack of jackals. Those proud kings, unable to bear the sting of defeat and the loss of their honor—especially Jarasandha and his allies—cried out in anguish, “Alas, shame upon us! Armed with weapons, we have been robbed by cowherds, just as lions snatch deer from among other beasts!” Śuka then spoke: Enraged and humiliated, all the kings mounted their vehicles, armed themselves, and, surrounded by their armies, pursued Krishna and Balarama with drawn bows. Seeing their approach, the chiefs of the Yadava army stood ready, bows stretched, the air resounding with the twang of their strings. Skilled in the arts of war, the warriors on horses, elephants, and chariots unleashed showers of arrows, like clouds pouring rain upon mountains. Seeing her husband’s army covered by torrents of arrows, Rukmini, slender-waisted and full of grace, looked at Krishna’s face with bashful, fear-stricken eyes. The Lord, smiling gently, reassured her: “Do not fear, O lotus-eyed one; this hostile force will now be destroyed by your own kin.” Unable to tolerate the arrogance of their foes, Gada, Sankarshana, and the other Yadava heroes struck the horses, elephants, and chariots with iron-tipped arrows. Heads of charioteers, horsemen, and elephant riders—adorned with earrings, crowns, and turbans—fell to the earth by the thousands. Severed arms with swords, maces, and bows, along with elephants, thighs, feet, horses, mules, camels, oxen, donkeys, and the heads of men, littered the battlefield. As the Vṛṣṇis, seeking victory, destroyed their forces, the kings—led by Jarasandha—turned away and retreated. They approached Shishupala, who was like a man bereft after losing his wife—his brilliance dimmed, his enthusiasm gone, his mouth parched with sorrow. They spoke words of consolation to him: “O best of men, cast off this sorrow! Among embodied beings, no one experiences happiness or distress that lasts forever. Just as a wooden puppet woman dances at the will of the magician, so too does one under the Lord’s control act in happiness and sorrow. “For seventeen days I was defeated in battle by Sauri (Krishna), but on the eighteenth day, with twenty-three armies, I gained victory over him. Still, I neither grieve nor rejoice, knowing that the world is driven by time and destiny. “Even now, all of us, chiefs of mighty warriors, have been defeated by the Yadus, protected by Krishna, through their clever strategies. Now our enemies have prevailed, for time follows its own course. When time turns in our favor, then we shall be victorious.” Thus, the tale of Rukmini’s abduction by Krishna, the pursuit of the kings, and the wisdom spoken in the aftermath, unfolded in the sacred land of Vidarbha.