Rukmini, having completed her vow of silence, quietly left the house of Ambika, her hand adorned with a jeweled ring as she gently clasped her maidservant’s hand. Her slender waist, radiant face framed by earrings and jewels, and dark complexion were further enhanced by a jeweled girdle at her hips and her prominent breasts. Her glances, hidden beneath curling locks, gave her the appearance of the divine, steadfast Māyā of the gods—an enchanting vision. Her pure smile shone forth, her lips red as bimba fruit, her teeth delicate like jasmine buds. As she walked with the grace of a swan, the gentle tinkling of her anklets filled the air, drawing every gaze. The assembled heroes, renowned for their valor, were overcome with love and awe at her beauty, some fainting at the sight. The kings, their hearts stolen by her noble smile and bashful glances, dropped their weapons, unable to resist her charm. Those illustrious kings, bewildered and 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. Modestly, she brushed aside her hair with her left hand and glanced sideways at the kings who had gathered, searching for Acyuta—Krishna. As the royal maiden was about to mount the chariot, Krishna seized her before the eyes of his rivals. Placing Rukmini upon the chariot marked with Garuḍa, Mādhava, disregarding the assembly of kings, departed slowly, led by Rāma, like a lion carrying away its prey from among jackals. The proud kings, unable to tolerate their defeat and loss of fame—especially Jarāsandha and his allies—cried out in shame, “Alas! 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 with drawn bows. Seeing them advance, the chiefs of the Yādava army stood ready, their bows stretched and resounding. Skilled in weapons, standing atop horses, elephants, and chariots, they released showers of arrows, like clouds pouring rain upon mountains. Rukmini, slender-waisted, saw her husband’s army covered by torrents of arrows. With bashful, fear-stricken eyes, she looked at Krishna’s face. Smiling, the Lord spoke gently, “Do not fear, O lotus-eyed one. This hostile force of yours will now be destroyed by your own kin.” Unable to endure the valor of the Yādavas, Gada, Saṅkarṣaṇa, and 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 wielding swords, maces, and bows, elephants, thighs, feet, horses, mules, camels, oxen, donkeys, and men’s heads all lay scattered. As their forces were destroyed by the victorious Vṛṣṇis, the kings, led by Jarāsandha, turned away and departed. They approached Śiśupāla, who, distressed after losing his bride, had lost his brilliance and enthusiasm, his mouth parched. They spoke words of consolation: “O best of men, cast off this sorrow! Among embodied beings, O king, no one sees lasting happiness or distress. Just as a puppet dances by the magician’s will, so too, one under the control of the Lord acts in happiness and sorrow.” Jarāsandha recounted, “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, 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 Kṛṣṇa, 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, the king of Cedi departed for his city with his followers, and the surviving kings returned each to their own cities. But Rukmī, unable to bear his sister’s marriage by force and hating Kṛṣṇa, followed behind, powerful and surrounded by his army. Enraged and agitated, Rukmī made a vow before all the kings, his great arms trembling, bow in hand: “Unless I kill Kṛṣṇa 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 ordered his charioteer, “Drive the horses! Let me face Kṛṣṇa in battle! Today, with sharp arrows, I will humble the pride of that wicked cowherd who has forcibly taken my sister.” Boasting thus, ignorant of the Lord’s greatness, he challenged Govinda, calling out, “Stop! Stop!” as he approached with his single chariot. Drawing his strong bow, he struck Kṛṣṇa 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! Until you have struck me down with your arrows and made me fall, release the maiden!” Smiling, Krishna broke Rukmī’s bow and pierced him with six arrows. With eight arrows he struck the four horses, with two the charioteer, with three the banner. Rukmī, taking up another bow, wounded Krishna with five arrows. Assailed by these showers, Achyuta cut Rukmī’s bow to pieces; again Rukmī took up another, but the imperishable Lord cut that too. Whatever weapon Rukmī seized—mace, spear, trident, shield and sword, javelin, or tomara—Hari cut them all to pieces. Then, leaping down from his chariot, sword in hand and intent on killing, Rukmī rushed at Krishna in anger, like a moth toward a flame. Krishna shattered his sword and shield into fragments with arrows; then, drawing his own sharp sword, he prepared to slay Rukmī. Seeing her husband about to kill her brother, Rukmini, overwhelmed with fear, fell at her husband’s feet and spoke to him in distress.