Rukmi, filled with pride and unaware of Lord Krishna’s true greatness, approached Govinda with his single chariot, loudly boasting and calling out, “Stop! Stop!” He challenged Krishna, drawing his powerful bow and striking him with three arrows, sneering, “Wait a moment, O disgrace of the Yadu clan! Where do you think you’re going, having stolen my sister like a jackal snatching offerings from a sacrifice? Today I will crush your arrogance, you deceitful and treacherous fighter! Release the maiden at once—unless you can defeat me with your arrows and make me fall!” Hearing these harsh words, Krishna simply smiled. In a swift motion, he broke Rukmi’s bow and, with six sharp arrows, pierced him. Krishna then struck Rukmi’s four horses with eight arrows, the charioteer with two, and the banner with three. Undeterred, Rukmi seized another bow and managed to wound Krishna with five arrows. But Achyuta, assailed by this flurry, cut Rukmi’s bow to pieces again. Each time Rukmi snatched up a new weapon—be it mace, spear, trident, shield and sword, javelin, or tomara—Hari effortlessly shattered them all. Frustrated and furious, Rukmi leapt from his chariot, sword in hand, intent on finishing Krishna. He rushed forward like a moth drawn to a flame, but Krishna, with well-aimed arrows, broke Rukmi’s sword and shield into fragments. Then Krishna drew his own sharp sword, ready to strike Rukmi down. At that moment, Rukmini, overwhelmed with fear for her brother’s life, rushed forward and fell at her husband’s feet. Her body trembled, her face was parched with grief, her throat choked with emotion, and her golden necklace slipped from her neck in her distress. Clasping Krishna’s feet, 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.” Moved by her distress and compassion, Krishna desisted from killing Rukmi. Instead, he bound the defeated Rukmi with a cloth, shaved off his hair and beard, and disfigured him, marking his humiliation. Meanwhile, the Yadu heroes routed the enemy army, scattering them like elephants trampling a lotus pond. Soon, the Yadus approached Krishna and saw Rukmi—disheveled, nearly lifeless, and bound. Lord Sankarṣaṇa, seeing Rukmi’s pitiable state, released him and addressed Krishna: “What you have done, Krishna, is improper and shameful for us—shaving a friend’s hair and beard, disfiguring or killing him. Let not this virtuous lady blame us out of concern for her brother’s disgrace, for each person reaps the fruits of their own actions—no one else gives happiness or sorrow. Even though killing a relative is a great sin, one should not slay a kinsman; if he is already ruined by his own fault, what is the point of harming 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, they destroy others—even their own kin. Your judgment, Krishna, is harsh toward all beings, especially those with wicked hearts; you always consider what is good for friends as good for all, as if others 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 does not become manifold, though the deluded see it as such—just as light or the sky appears divided. This body, with 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 apparent connection, like the sun and the forms it illuminates. Birth and other transformations belong to the body, never to the Self—just as the phases of the moon do not affect the moon itself, nor does an 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 the Lord, the slender-waisted Rukmini composed herself, abandoning her distress and regaining clarity of mind. Meanwhile, Rukmi, his life-breath nearly spent, his strength and brilliance destroyed by Krishna and Balarama, was left to contemplate his disfigured state and the futility of his ambitions. He established a great city named Bhojakaṭa for his residence, choosing not to attack Krishna again or hinder his younger sister. Declaring, “I will not enter Kuṇḍina,” he remained in Bhojakaṭa, brooding in anger over his defeat at the hands of the Lord and the daughter of Bhīṣmaka, along with the other kings. Krishna, following the proper rites, brought Rukmini to the city. There, in every house of the Yadu city, a great festival was celebrated by those devoted to Krishna, the Lord of the Yadus. Men and women, delighted and adorned with polished jeweled earrings, brought gifts for the splendidly attired couple. The city of the Vṛṣṇis shone brilliantly, adorned with Indra’s banners, wondrous garlands, garments, jeweled gateways, and auspicious arrangements at every gate—full water pots, incense, and lamps. The streets were sprinkled with fragrant, intoxicating liquids; at the gates, elephants summoned by beloved kings stood, and rows of plantain and areca trees beautified the city. The Kurus, Sṛñjayas, Kaikeyas, Vidarbhas, Yadus, and Kuntis all rejoiced together, mingling in excitement as they hurried about. Everywhere, kings and princesses were astonished to hear the story of Rukmini’s abduction. In Dvārakā, immense joy arose among the citizens, seeing Krishna, the Lord of fortune, united with Rukmini and Balarama. In time, Kāma—who was previously burned by Rudra’s anger and is a portion of Vāsudeva—took birth again for the sake of embodiment, assuming that very same form. Born of Vaidarbhi and endowed with Krishna’s power, he became renowned as Pradyumna, in every way not inferior to his father.