The women of the household, moved by affection, offered Rukmiṇī the remnants of the ceremonial food and blessed her with heartfelt wishes. With humility, the bride bowed before them and gratefully accepted what remained. Her vow of silence now complete, Rukmiṇī departed from Ambikā’s house, her jeweled hand clasping that of her trusted maidservant. She was a vision of grace: her slender waist adorned with a radiant girdle, her face framed by earrings and sparkling jewels, her complexion dark and luminous. Her breasts were full, her glances coyly hidden behind curling locks, and she moved with an enchanting allure, resembling the steadfast Māyā of the gods themselves. A gentle smile played upon her lips, which shone red like bimba fruit; her teeth gleamed like jasmine buds. She walked with the elegant gait of a swan, her every step accompanied by the soft, melodious tinkling of her anklets. As Rukmiṇī made her way, the assembled heroes—renowned throughout the land—were overcome by her beauty and fainted with longing. The kings, their hearts stolen by her noble smile and bashful glances, let their weapons fall from their hands, entranced and helpless. These illustrious kings, seated upon elephants, chariots, and horses, were so bewildered that they tumbled to the ground. Under the guise of a ceremonial procession, Rukmiṇī, radiant and dignified, offered her own splendor to Hari, moving slowly, her lotus-like feet gliding forward, her eyes searching for the approach of the Lord. With modesty, she brushed aside her flowing hair with her left hand and cast sidelong, bashful glances at the assembled kings. Then, she saw Acyuta—Kṛṣṇa himself. As she was about to mount her chariot, Kṛṣṇa, before the eyes of all her rivals, seized her. He lifted her onto his chariot, which bore the emblem of Garuḍa, and, heedless of the gathered kings, departed at a measured pace. Rāma led the way, and Kṛṣṇa moved like a lion carrying off its prize from among jackals. The proud kings, unable to accept their defeat and the loss of their honor—especially Jarāsandha and his allies—cried out in anguish, “Alas, shame upon us! Though armed, we have been robbed by cowherds, like lions snatching deer from lesser beasts!” Śuka continued: Thus enraged, all the kings mounted their vehicles, armed themselves, and, surrounded by their armies, set out in pursuit with drawn bows. Seeing them advance, the chiefs of the Yādava army stood firm, facing their foes with bows stretched and twanging. Skilled in the art of war, standing upon horses, elephants, and chariots, they loosed torrents of arrows, as clouds pour rain upon the mountains. Witnessing the Yādava army enveloped by these showers of arrows, Rukmiṇī, slender-waisted and bashful, looked anxiously at Kṛṣṇa’s face, her eyes wide with fear. But the Lord, smiling gently, reassured her: “Do not fear, O lotus-eyed one. This hostile force you see will now be destroyed by your own kin.” Unable to endure the valor of the Yādavas, Gada, Saṅkarṣaṇa, and their heroic companions 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, along with elephants, thighs, feet, horses, mules, camels, oxen, donkeys, and the heads of men, were strewn across the battlefield. With their forces being crushed by the victorious Vṛṣṇis, the kings—led by Jarāsandha—turned and fled. They approached Śiśupāla, who was as one bereft of his wife: his splendor gone, his enthusiasm lost, his mouth parched with sorrow. They consoled him, saying, “O best of men, cast off this grief! Among all living beings, no one experiences unending happiness or sorrow. Just as a puppet woman dances by the will of the magician, so too do we act in joy and grief, under the Lord’s control. For seventeen days I was defeated in battle by Śauri, but on the eighteenth, with twenty-three armies, I gained victory over him. Yet I neither lament nor rejoice, for I know the world is driven by time and destiny. Even now, all of us mighty warriors have been defeated by the Yadus, protected by Kṛṣṇa and their clever strategies. Today our enemies have prevailed, for time moves according to its own will. When time turns again, victory will be ours.” Thus comforted by his friends, the king of Cedi departed for his city, and the other surviving kings returned to their own realms. But Rukmī, Rukmiṇī’s brother, could not bear her marriage to Kṛṣṇa, whom he considered an abductor, and his heart burned with hatred. Gathering his army, he pursued Kṛṣṇa in fury. Overcome with rage, his great arms trembling and his bow in hand, Rukmī declared before all the kings, “Unless I kill Kṛṣṇa in battle and recover my sister, I will not return to Kuṇḍina. This I swear to you all.” With these words, he swiftly mounted his chariot and commanded his charioteer, “Drive the horses! I will face Kṛṣṇa in battle!” Boasting, he proclaimed, “Today, with sharp arrows, I will humble the pride of that wicked cowherd who has stolen my sister.” Unaware of the Lord’s greatness, Rukmī challenged Govinda, calling out, “Stop! Stop!” as he approached on his lone chariot. Drawing his mighty bow, he struck Kṛṣṇa with three arrows and taunted, “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, you deceitful, treacherous fighter! Until you have struck me down and made me fall, release the maiden!” Kṛṣṇa smiled, broke Rukmī’s bow, and pierced him with six swift arrows. With eight arrows, he struck the four horses, with two the charioteer, and with three the banner. Rukmī snatched up another bow and wounded Kṛṣṇa with five arrows, but Achyuta cut this bow to pieces as well. Again and again, whatever weapon Rukmī seized—mace, spear, trident, shield and sword, javelin, or tomara—Hari shattered them all. At last, Rukmī leapt from his chariot, sword in hand, intent on killing Kṛṣṇa, rushing in rage like a moth to a flame. But as he charged, Kṛṣṇa shattered Rukmī’s sword and shield with his arrows. Then, drawing his own sharp sword, Kṛṣṇa prepared to slay Rukmī.