Śrī Śuka began: After being comforted by his friends, the king of Cedi turned back toward his city, accompanied by his followers. The other kings who had survived the tumult also returned to their own realms. But Rukmī, the brother of Rukmiṇī, could not endure the thought of his sister’s marriage by force—the Rākṣasa way—and was burning with hatred toward Kṛṣṇa. Consumed by anger and surrounded by his army, Rukmī set out in pursuit of Kṛṣṇa. His heart inflamed and his great arms trembling with agitation, Rukmī raised his bow before the assembled kings and made a solemn vow: “Unless I slay Kṛṣṇa in battle and bring back Rukmiṇī, I will not return to Kuṇḍina. I declare this before you all.” With these words, he swiftly mounted his chariot and urged his charioteer, “Drive the horses! Take me to face Kṛṣṇa in battle!” He boasted with burning pride, “Today, I will humble that wicked cowherd’s arrogance with my sharp arrows, for he has stolen my sister by force.” Blinded by his own ignorance of the Lord’s true greatness, Rukmī challenged Govinda, crying out, “Stop! Stop!” as he drew near with his single chariot. He pulled his strong bow and shot three arrows at Kṛṣṇa, taunting, “Wait, O disgrace of the Yadu clan! Where are you going, having stolen my sister like a jackal snatching the sacrificial offerings? Today I will break your pride, O deceitful and treacherous fighter! You will not escape until you have struck me down and made me fall—release the maiden!” Kṛṣṇa, smiling gently, broke Rukmī’s bow and pierced him with six swift arrows. Then, with eight arrows, Kṛṣṇa struck the four horses of Rukmī’s chariot, with two more he felled the charioteer, and with three he cut down the banner. Rukmī, undeterred, seized another bow and wounded Kṛṣṇa with five arrows. But Achyuta, undisturbed by the flurry of arrows, cut this new bow to pieces. Again and again, Rukmī grasped weapons—mace, spear, trident, shield and sword, javelin, and tomara—but Hari, the imperishable Lord, shattered them all. At last, in a final fury, Rukmī leapt down from his chariot, sword in hand, intent on slaying Kṛṣṇa. He charged like a moth rushing toward a flame. But as he rushed, Kṛṣṇa shattered Rukmī’s sword and shield with his arrows. Then, drawing his own sharp sword, Kṛṣṇa prepared to strike Rukmī down. At this critical moment, Rukmiṇī, overwhelmed by fear for her brother’s life, fell at her husband’s feet and pleaded in distress, “O Lord of yoga, immeasurable one, God of gods, Lord of the world! You are the mighty-armed bringer of good—please do not kill my brother.” Her body trembled with fear, her face was pale with grief, her voice choked, and her golden necklace slipped from her neck in her anxiety as she clung to Kṛṣṇa’s feet. Moved by compassion for his beloved, Kṛṣṇa relented. He did not kill Rukmī, but instead bound that wicked man with a cloth and, shaving off his hair and beard, disfigured him. Meanwhile, the Yadu heroes routed Rukmī’s army as elephants trample a lotus pond. The Yadus then approached Kṛṣṇa and saw Rukmī in this pitiable state, nearly dead. Seeing him bound, the compassionate Lord Sankarṣaṇa (Balarāma) released him and spoke to Kṛṣṇa, “What you have done, Kṛṣṇa, is improper and shameful for us—shaving off the hair and beard, disfiguring or killing a friend. Let not this virtuous lady bear resentment toward us for her brother’s humiliation. No one else gives happiness or sorrow—each person reaps the fruits of their own actions. Even though killing a relative is a great sin, one should not slay a kinsman; and if he is already ruined by his own fault, what is the point of destroying him further?” Balarāma continued, “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, they destroy others—even their own kin. O Kṛṣṇa, your judgment toward all beings is harsh, especially toward those with wicked hearts; for you always consider what is good for your friends as good for all, as if they were ignorant.” He then spoke of the deeper truth: “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. 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, 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.” Śuka continued: Thus instructed by Lord Balarāma, slender-waisted Rukmiṇī let go of her distress and composed her mind with understanding. As for Rukmī, his life-force nearly spent, his strength and brilliance destroyed by Kṛṣṇa and Balarāma, he remembered his own disfigured form and his vain ambitions. He established a great city named Bhojakaṭa for his residence, refusing to attack wicked Kṛṣṇa or hinder his younger sister further. Remembering his vow not to enter Kuṇḍina, he remained in Bhojakaṭa, defeated by the Lord and the daughter of Bhīṣmaka, as well as by the other kings. Kṛṣṇa then brought Rukmiṇī to the Yadu city, Dvārakā, performing all the proper rites. O best of the Kurus, he married her, and in every house of the Yadu city, a great festival was celebrated by those devoted solely to Kṛṣṇa, the Lord of the Yadus. Men and women, delighted and adorned with polished jeweled earrings, brought splendid gifts for the couple, who themselves were splendidly attired. The city of the Vṛṣṇis shone brilliantly, adorned with banners of Indra, wondrous garlands, fine garments, jeweled gateways, and auspicious arrangements—full water pots, incense, and lamps—at every gate, radiant in festivity and joy.