Just as a wooden puppet dances at the will of its master, so too, all beings act in happiness and sorrow according to the Lord’s command. With this understanding, the king of Cedi reflected on his own fate: for seventeen days, he had been defeated in battle by Śauri, but on the eighteenth day, with the strength of twenty-three armies, he finally gained victory. Yet, he neither grieved nor rejoiced, knowing that the world moves by the force of time and destiny. Even now, he and the other mighty chiefs had been bested by the Yadus, who were protected by Kṛṣṇa’s clever strategies. Their enemies had prevailed because time follows its own course; and when time turns in their favor, victory would be theirs. Consoled by his friends, the king of Cedi departed for his city with his followers, and the other surviving kings returned to their own realms. But Rukmī, unable to accept his sister’s marriage to a Rākṣasa—by force—and harboring hatred toward Kṛṣṇa, pursued Him, surrounded by his powerful army. Enraged and agitated, Rukmī made a vow before all the assembled kings, his arms trembling, bow in hand: "Unless I kill Kṛṣṇa in battle and recover Rukmiṇī, I will not enter Kuṇḍina. This I declare truly!" With these words, Rukmī mounted his chariot and ordered his charioteer, "Drive the horses! Let me face Kṛṣṇa in battle!" He boasted, "Today, with sharp arrows, I will humble the pride of that wicked cowherd who has taken my sister by force." Ignorant of the Lord’s greatness, he challenged Govinda, calling out, "Stop! Stop!" as he approached with his single chariot. Drawing his bow, Rukmī struck Kṛṣṇa with three arrows and taunted Him, "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 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, undeterred, took up another bow and wounded Krishna with five arrows. But Achyuta, assailed by showers of arrows, cut Rukmī’s bow to pieces. Again and again, Rukmī seized new weapons—mace, spear, trident, shield and sword, javelin, tomara—but Hari destroyed them all. Driven by fury, Rukmī leapt from his chariot, sword in hand, intent on killing Krishna, rushing at Him like a moth toward a flame. As he charged, Krishna shattered his sword and shield with arrows, then drew His own sharp sword, preparing to slay Rukmī. Seeing her husband about to kill her brother, Rukmini, overwhelmed with fear, fell at Krishna’s feet and pleaded in distress: "O Lord of yoga, immeasurable one, God of gods, Lord of the world, you should not kill my brother, O mighty-armed, bringer of good." Her body trembled with fear, her face dried with grief, her throat choked, her golden necklace slipping in anxiety. She clasped Krishna’s feet, and moved by compassion, He desisted from slaying Rukmī. Instead, Krishna bound the wicked Rukmī with a cloth and shaved off his hair and beard, disfiguring him. Meanwhile, the Yadu heroes routed the enemy army, trampling them like elephants in a lotus pond. Approaching Krishna, the Yadus saw Rukmī in this pitiable state, nearly dead. Seeing him bound, the compassionate Lord Sankarṣaṇa released him and spoke to Krishna: "What you have done, Krishna, is improper and shameful for us—shaving off the hair and beard, disfiguring, or killing a friend. Let not this virtuous lady blame us out of concern for her brother’s disfigurement; for no one else gives happiness or sorrow—each person reaps the fruits of their 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 killing him again? 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 toward all beings is harsh, Krishna, toward those with wicked hearts; for 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, some as enemies, and some as neutral. There is truly 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, having a beginning and an end, is composed of matter, life-force, and qualities; fashioned by ignorance upon the Self, it causes the embodied one to wander in worldly existence. For the true Self, there is neither union nor separation with another, whether existent or non-existent; such notions arise from their apparent connection, like the sun and the forms it illuminates. Birth and other transformations belong to the body, never to the Self at any time—just as the phases of the moon do not affect the moon itself, nor does the eclipse truly harm it. Just as one experiences oneself and objects in dreams, enjoying their results though they are unreal, so too does the unwise person enter worldly existence, mistaking the unreal for real. Therefore, dispel the sorrow born of ignorance, which dries up and confuses the Self, by true knowledge—be established in your own nature, O pure-smiling one." Thus instructed by Lord Rāma, slender-waisted Rukmini abandoned her distress and composed her mind with understanding. Rukmī, his life-breath nearly spent, his strength and brilliance destroyed by Krishna and Sankarṣaṇa, remembered his disfigured form and his vain ambitions, conceived only by his own pride.