On the battlefield, chaos reigned as the heads of charioteers, horsemen, and elephant riders—each adorned with earrings, crowns, and turbans—fell by the thousands to the earth. Severed arms clutching swords, maces, and bows tumbled alongside the bodies of elephants, horses, mules, camels, oxen, donkeys, and men. The ground was strewn with the remnants of a mighty army, all laid low by the relentless onslaught of the Vṛṣṇis, who fought with unwavering determination for victory. As their forces crumbled, the kings, led by Jarāsandha, recognized defeat. Disheartened, they turned away from the carnage and departed the battlefield. Seeking out Śiśupāla, who now resembled a man bereft of his wife—his luster dimmed, his spirit broken, his mouth parched with despair—the vanquished kings gathered around him and spoke words of comfort. “O best of men,” they said, “cast off this sorrow! Among all embodied beings, no one experiences happiness or distress that endures forever. Just as a puppet woman, fashioned of wood, dances at the will of the magician, so too do all of us act in joy and sorrow, moved by the Supreme Lord’s will. “Recall, O king, that for seventeen days I myself was defeated in battle by Śauri. But on the eighteenth day, with twenty-three armies at my command, I gained victory over him. Yet I neither grieve nor rejoice at these outcomes, for I know that the world moves according to time and destiny. Even now, all of us, the foremost of warriors, have been bested by the Yadus, protected as they are by Kṛṣṇa’s cunning. Our enemies have prevailed because time now favors them; when time turns again, victory will be ours.” Thus consoled by his companions, the king of Cedi, Śiśupāla, returned with his followers to his city, and the other surviving kings departed for their own realms. But Rukmī, unable to bear the thought of his sister’s marriage being won by force—and burning with enmity toward Kṛṣṇa—set out in pursuit of Kṛṣṇa, his army arrayed behind him. Overcome with rage and agitation, Rukmī, his powerful arms trembling as he gripped his bow, made a solemn vow before all the assembled kings: “Unless I slay Kṛṣṇa in battle and reclaim my sister Rukmiṇī, I shall never return to Kuṇḍina. This I swear to you all.” With these words, Rukmī swiftly mounted his chariot and commanded his driver, “Drive on! Let me confront Kṛṣṇa in battle!” Boasting loudly, he declared, “Today I will humble the pride of that wicked cowherd who has stolen my sister, with my sharp arrows!” Ignorant of the Lord’s true greatness, Rukmī challenged Govinda, calling out, “Stop! Stop!” as he drew near in his chariot. Drawing his formidable bow, Rukmī struck Kṛṣṇa with three arrows and cried, “Wait, O disgrace of the Yadu clan! Where are you going, having snatched my sister like a jackal stealing sacrificial offerings? Today I shall break your pride, O deceitful, treacherous fighter! Until you have struck me down and made me fall with your arrows, release the maiden!” Kṛṣṇa, smiling at these words, broke Rukmī’s bow and pierced him with six swift arrows. With eight more, he struck Rukmī’s four horses; with two, he wounded the charioteer; with three, he shattered the banner. Yet Rukmī, undaunted, seized another bow and wounded Kṛṣṇa with five arrows. But the imperishable Lord Achyuta, assailed by this shower of arrows, cut Rukmī’s new bow to pieces. Again and again, as Rukmī seized weapon after weapon—mace, spear, trident, shield and sword, javelin, or tomara—Hari destroyed them all. Driven by anger and despair, Rukmī leapt from his chariot, sword in hand, intent on slaying Kṛṣṇa, like a moth flying into a flame. As he charged, Kṛṣṇa shattered his sword and shield with his arrows. Then, drawing his own sharp sword, Kṛṣṇa prepared to strike Rukmī down. At that moment, Rukmiṇī, seeing her husband about to kill her brother, was overcome with fear. She hurried to Kṛṣṇa’s feet, her body trembling, her face pale and drawn, her golden necklace slipping in her distress, her throat choked with emotion. With great anxiety, she pleaded, “O Lord of yoga, immeasurable one, God of gods, Lord of the world, please do not kill my brother, O mighty-armed one, bringer of good.” Moved by her compassion and distress, Kṛṣṇa desisted. Instead, he bound the wicked Rukmī with a cloth and, to disfigure him, shaved off his hair and beard. Meanwhile, the Yadu heroes routed the remainder of the enemy army, trampling them like elephants crushing a lotus pond. When the Yadus approached Kṛṣṇa, they saw Rukmī in this pitiable state, nearly dead from humiliation. Seeing him bound, the compassionate Lord Sankarṣaṇa released Rukmī and addressed Kṛṣṇa: “What you have done, Kṛṣṇa, is improper and shameful for us—to shave the hair and beard, to disfigure or kill a friend. Let not this virtuous lady blame us for her brother’s disfigurement, for happiness and sorrow come only as the result of one’s own actions. “Even though the killing of a relative is a great sin, one should not slay a kinsman. If he is ruined by his own fault, what is the point of destroying him further? This is the law for kṣatriyas, established by the Lord of creatures: even a brother may kill his brother, and nothing is more terrible than this. For the sake of kingdom, land, wealth, women, pride, or power, blinded by arrogance, kṣatriyas destroy others—even their own kin. “Your judgment, Kṛṣṇa, is harsh toward all beings with wicked hearts; you always consider what is good for friends as good for all, as if they were ignorant. Delusion arises among men by the divine power of Māyā; those who identify with the body see some as friends, others as enemies, and some as neutral. But in truth, there is only one supreme Self for all embodied beings; it is not manifold, though the deluded perceive it as such—just as light or the sky appears divided. “This body, with its beginning and end, is composed of matter, life-force, and qualities. Fashioned by ignorance upon the Self, it causes the embodied soul to wander through worldly existence. For the true Self, there is neither union nor separation with another, whether existent or non-existent; such notions arise from apparent connection, like the sun and the forms it illuminates.” Thus, with wisdom and compassion, the Lord’s actions and the ways of destiny were revealed amid the tumult of battle and the bonds of kinship.