When word spread through the city of Vidarbha that Krishna had arrived, excitement swept through its people. They rushed out to see him, and as they gazed upon the radiant lotus face of Krishna, their hands instinctively rose to their eyes in reverence, as if drinking in his divine beauty. Among the townsfolk, there was a unanimous feeling: “Only Rukmini is fit to be Krishna’s wife—no other. And he, flawless in every way, is the true match for the daughter of Bhishmaka.” They felt that whatever little virtue or merit they had accumulated in their lives had now pleased the Lord of all creation, for Achyuta himself had come. With hearts full of hope, they prayed, “May Krishna accept the hand of our princess, the jewel of Vidarbha.” Thus, bound by the powerful thread of love and devotion, the people spoke among themselves. Meanwhile, Rukmini, the princess herself, left the inner chambers of the palace, heading toward the temple of Ambika. She was escorted by vigilant guards, for her safety was paramount. Rukmini went out on foot, her purpose to worship at the tender feet of Bhavani, yet her mind was wholly absorbed in thoughts of the lotus feet of Mukunda, Krishna himself. She was surrounded by her mothers and companions, and guarded by brave soldiers clad in armor and bearing weapons. The air was alive with the sounds of drums, conches, cymbals, trumpets, and kettle-drums, heralding the auspicious occasion. A procession of thousands of noblewomen, adorned in their finest ornaments, followed, carrying offerings of garlands, perfumes, garments, and jewels for the priests. Singers and musicians surrounded Rukmini, their songs and praises filling the air, joined by bards, genealogists, and heralds who celebrated her lineage and virtues. Upon reaching the temple of the goddess, Rukmini washed her hands and feet, and, purified and serene, entered the presence of Ambika. The elderly and wise wives of the Brahmins, who were themselves accompanied by Bhavani, worshipped the goddess, the consort of Bhava, who was resplendent with prosperity. With folded hands, Rukmini bowed again and again before Ambika, praying, “O auspicious one, accompanied by your children, may you be pleased with me! May Krishna, the blessed one, become my husband.” The offerings were plentiful: fragrant substances, unbroken rice, incense, garments, garlands, ornaments, and rows of lamps. The Brahmin women, together with their husbands, presented salt, cakes, betel leaves, necklaces, fruits, and sugarcane as part of the worship. After the rituals, these venerable women gave Rukmini the remnants of the offerings and bestowed their heartfelt blessings upon her. She received them with humility, bowing before them and accepting the prasada. Her vow of silence now complete, Rukmini left the temple, holding her maidservant’s hand. Her hand sparkled with a jeweled ring. She was the very image of grace: slender-waisted, her face adorned with earrings and jewels, her dark complexion glowing, a jeweled girdle at her hips, her chest adorned, and her glances partly hidden by her curling locks. She moved with the enchanting presence of the 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 graceful gait of a swan, the gentle tinkling of her anklets accompanying her steps. As she appeared before the assembled heroes—famous kings and warriors—many were overcome with love and fainted at the sight of her. The kings, their minds stolen by her noble smile and bashful glances, dropped their weapons, entranced. The bewildered kings, seated atop elephants, chariots, and horses, fell to the ground, while Rukmini, under the pretext of a ceremonial procession, offered her own radiant beauty to Hari, Krishna. Moving slowly, her lotus-like feet shifting with each step, she looked forward with hope for the Lord’s arrival. As she brushed aside her curly hair with her left hand and stole a sideways glance, she modestly surveyed the gathered kings and saw Achyuta, Krishna, among them. At the moment she was about to mount her chariot, Krishna, before the eyes of all his rivals, seized her. Krishna placed Rukmini upon his chariot, which bore the emblem of Garuda. Ignoring the assembly of kings, he departed at a measured pace, led by Balarama, just as a lion claims its prey from among jackals. The proud kings, unable to tolerate their defeat and the loss of their honor—especially Jarasandha and his allies—cried out in anguish, “Alas, shame upon us! Armed as we are, we have been robbed by cowherds, like lions taking deer from among lesser beasts.” Śuka said: Thus, all the kings, burning with anger, mounted their vehicles, armed themselves, and, surrounded by their armies, pursued Krishna and his party with drawn bows. Seeing this, the chiefs of the Yadava army turned to face the pursuing kings, bows stretched and ready. Skilled in the arts of war, standing on horses, elephants, and chariots, they unleashed showers of arrows, like clouds pouring rain upon mountains. Rukmini, slender-waisted and beautiful, saw her husband’s army being covered by torrents of arrows. With bashful, fear-stricken eyes, she looked to Krishna’s face. 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 bear the valor of the Yadavas, Gada, Sankarshana (Balarama), and the other heroes struck the enemy’s 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 clutching swords, maces, and bows; elephants, thighs, feet, horses, mules, camels, oxen, donkeys, and the heads of men—all fell in the tumult of battle. As their forces were being destroyed by the victorious Vrishnis, the kings, led by Jarasandha, turned away and departed. They approached Shishupala, who was like a man bereft after his wife had been taken, his brilliance dimmed, his enthusiasm gone, his mouth parched with grief. They tried to console him: “O best of men, cast off this sorrow! Among all beings, 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 Sauri (Krishna), 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. Now our enemies have prevailed, for time follows its own course; when time turns in our favor, then we shall be victorious.” Śuka continued: Thus consoled by his friends, the king of Cedi, Shishupala, departed for his city with his followers, and the other surviving kings also returned to their own realms. Yet Rukmi, unable to bear that his sister had been married by force to Krishna, and burning with hatred for Krishna, followed behind him, powerful and accompanied by his army.