As the bride made her way, she was surrounded by singers and musicians, their voices rising in praise and song. Bards, genealogists, and heralds accompanied her, celebrating her lineage and the auspicious occasion. Upon reaching the abode of the goddess, she washed her feet and hands, purifying herself and entering a peaceful state of mind before stepping into the presence of Ambika. There, the elderly and learned wives of the Brahmins, joined by Bhavani herself, received the bride. Together, they worshipped her—the wife of Bhava—bestowing blessings and honoring her prosperity. The bride herself offered reverent prayers, bowing repeatedly to Ambika, the auspicious goddess surrounded by her children. With heartfelt devotion, she prayed, “May Krishna be my blessed husband; may you, O goddess, be pleased with this.” The worship was conducted with fragrant substances, unbroken rice, incense, beautiful garments, garlands, ornaments, a variety of offerings and food, and rows of lamps set aside. The Brahmin women, together with their husbands, honored her with salt, cakes, betel leaves, necklaces, fruits, and sugarcane. After the rituals, these women gave her the remnants of the offerings and their blessings, which the bride received with humility, bowing before them. Having completed her vow of silence, the bride departed from Ambika’s house, holding her maidservant’s hand, her own hand adorned with a jeweled ring. Her slender waist, face bright with earrings and jewels, dark complexion, jeweled girdle on her hips, prominent breasts, and glances hidden behind curling locks, made her appear as enchanting and steadfast as the Māyā of the gods. Her smile was pure, her lips shining like bimba fruit, her teeth like jasmine buds. She walked with the graceful gait of a swan, her presence enhanced by the gentle sound of her tinkling anklets. As she appeared before the assembled heroes, their hearts were overcome with love for her, and many fainted at the sight. The kings, too, were captivated by her noble smile and bashful glances, dropping their weapons, their minds stolen by her beauty. Those illustrious kings, bewildered and seated atop elephants, chariots, and horses, fell to the ground as the bride, 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, she glanced modestly at the kings who had gathered, and saw Acyuta—Krishna. As the royal maiden was about to mount her chariot, Krishna seized her before the eyes of his rivals. Krishna placed her upon his chariot, marked with the emblem of Garuḍa, and, disregarding the assembly of kings, departed slowly, led by Rama. Like a lion snatching its prey from among jackals, he carried her away. The proud kings, unable to bear their defeat and the loss of fame—especially Jarāsandha and his allies—cried out in frustration, “Alas, shame upon us! Armed with weapons, we have been robbed by cowherds, like lions taking deer from among other beasts.” Śuka continued: All the enraged kings, mounting their vehicles and arming themselves, surrounded by their armies, pursued Krishna and his party with drawn bows. Seeing their advance, the chiefs of the Yādava 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. The slender-waisted maiden, seeing her husband’s army covered by torrents of arrows, looked at Krishna’s face with bashful, fear-stricken eyes. The Lord, smiling, assured her, “Do not fear, O lotus-eyed one; this hostile force will now be destroyed by your own kin.” Unable to tolerate the enemy’s valor, Gada, Saṅkarṣaṇa, 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 wielding swords, maces, and bows, as well as elephants, thighs, feet, horses, mules, camels, oxen, donkeys, and the heads of men—all were struck down in the fierce battle. As their forces were destroyed by the victorious Vṛṣṇis, the kings, led by Jarāsandha, turned away and departed. They approached Śiśupāla, who was like a man distressed after his wife had been taken—his brilliance lost, his enthusiasm gone, his mouth parched. They spoke to him, “O best of men, cast off this sorrow! Among embodied beings, no one sees lasting happiness or distress. Just as a wooden puppet woman dances by the will of the magician, so too does one act in happiness and sorrow under the control of the Lord.” Jarāsandha reminded them, “For seventeen days I was defeated in battle by Śauri, but on the eighteenth day, with twenty-three armies, I gained victory over him. Yet 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 said: Thus consoled by his friends, the king of Cedi departed for his city with his followers, and the other surviving kings returned each to his own city. But Rukmī, unable to accept his sister’s marriage by force to Krishna, and harboring hatred toward Krishna, followed behind, powerful and surrounded by his army. Enraged and greatly agitated, in the hearing of all the kings, Rukmī made a vow, his great arms trembling, bow in hand: “Unless I kill Krishna in battle and recover Rukmiṇī, I will not enter Kuṇḍina. This I declare to you truly.” Having spoken thus, he quickly mounted his chariot and commanded his charioteer, “Drive the horses! Let me face Krishna in battle!” He boasted, “Today, with sharp arrows, I will humble the pride of that wicked cowherd who has forcibly taken my sister.” Ignorant of the Lord’s greatness, he challenged Govinda, calling out, “Stop! Stop!” as he approached with his single chariot. Drawing his strong bow, Rukmī struck Krishna with three arrows and shouted, “Wait a moment, O disgrace of the Yadu clan! Where are you going, having stolen my sister like a jackal snatching sacrificial offerings? Today I will break your pride, O deceitful, treacherous fighter!