Rukmi, burning with rage and wounded pride, declared, “Today, with sharp arrows, I will humble the pride of that wicked cowherd who has forcibly taken my sister.” Ignorant of the Lord’s true greatness, Rukmi boasted loudly as he charged toward Govinda, shouting, “Stop! Stop!” while advancing with his single chariot. He drew his powerful bow and struck Krishna with three arrows, taunting, “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!” Krishna, smiling calmly, broke Rukmi’s bow and pierced him with six arrows. With eight arrows, Krishna struck the four horses, with two he wounded the charioteer, and with three he shattered the banner atop Rukmi’s chariot. Undeterred, Rukmi took up another bow and managed to wound Krishna with five arrows. But Achyuta, beset by this shower of arrows, cut Rukmi’s bow to pieces. Rukmi seized yet another bow, but the imperishable Lord destroyed that as well. Whatever weapon Rukmi grasped—mace, spear, trident, shield and sword, javelin, or tomara—Hari cut them all to pieces. Finally, Rukmi leaped down from his chariot, sword in hand and intent on killing, rushing at Krishna in anger like a moth drawn to a flame. Krishna shattered Rukmi’s sword and shield with his arrows, then drew his own sharp sword, preparing to slay Rukmi. Seeing her husband about to kill her brother, Rukmini, overwhelmed with fear, fell at Krishna’s feet, her voice trembling with distress. She pleaded, “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, and her golden necklace slipped in her anxiety as she clasped Krishna’s feet. Moved by compassion, Krishna desisted from killing Rukmi. Instead, he bound the wicked man 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. The Yadu warriors approached Krishna and saw Rukmi in this pitiable state, nearly dead. Seeing him bound, the compassionate Lord Sankarṣaṇa released him and spoke to Krishna, saying, “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, they destroy others—even their own kin. Your judgment toward all beings is harsh, O 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 Sankarṣaṇa, Rāma, slender-waisted Rukmini abandoned her distress and composed her mind with understanding. Rukmi, his life-breath nearly spent, his strength and brilliance destroyed by Krishna and Balarama, remembered his disfigured form and his vain ambitions. He established a great city named Bhojakaṭa for his residence, refusing to attack Krishna further or to hinder his younger sister. Declaring, “I will not enter Kuṇḍina,” he remained there in anger, having been defeated by the Lord and the daughter of Bhīṣmaka, along with the other kings. Krishna, bringing Rukmini to the city according to proper rites, married her. In every house of the Yadu city, there was a great festival among those devoted solely to Krishna, the Lord of the Yadus. Men and women, delighted and adorned with polished jeweled earrings, brought splendid gifts for the couple, both beautifully attired. The city of the Vṛṣṇis was adorned with Indra’s banners, wondrous garlands, garments, jeweled gateways, and auspicious arrangements at every gate—full water pots, incense, and lamps—shining brilliantly. Its streets were sprinkled with fragrant, intoxicating liquids; at the gates, elephants summoned by beloved kings stood, and the city was beautified by rows of plantain and areca trees. The Kurus, Sṛñjayas, Kaikeyas, Vidarbhas, Yadus, and Kuntis all rejoiced together, mingling in excitement as they hurried about. Hearing the story of Rukmini’s abduction sung everywhere, the kings and princesses were greatly astonished. In Dvārakā, immense joy arose among the citizens, seeing Krishna, the Lord of fortune, united with Rukmini and Rāma. Śuka then said: Kāma, a portion of Vāsudeva, who was previously burned by Rudra’s anger, again took birth for the sake of embodiment, assuming that very form.