Thus, the Lord gently counseled Rukmiṇī, urging her to cast aside the sorrow born of ignorance, which dries and confuses the Self, and to find solace in true knowledge, becoming established in her own pure nature. Hearing these words, Śuka relates, the slender-waisted Rāma—Rukmiṇī herself—let go of her distress and composed her mind, understanding the truth. Meanwhile, Rukmi, his life-breath nearly spent, his strength and brilliance diminished by the actions of Kṛṣṇa and Rukmiṇī, reflected on his disfigured state and the futility of his self-conceived ambitions. Rather than confronting Kṛṣṇa or hindering his younger sister, he founded a great city named Bhojakaṭa for his residence. Declaring, “I will not enter Kuṇḍina,” he remained there in anger, defeated by the Lord and the daughter of Bhīṣmaka, along with the other kings. Kṛṣṇa, following proper rites, brought Rukmiṇī to the city and married her. In every house of the Yadu city, a grand festival was held by those devoted solely to Kṛṣṇa, the Lord of the Yadus. Men and women, delighted and adorned with polished jeweled earrings, brought splendid gifts to the couple, both beautifully attired. The city of the Vṛṣṇis gleamed, decorated with Indra’s banners, wondrous garlands, garments, jeweled gateways, and auspicious arrangements at every gate—full water pots, incense, and lamps. Its streets were sprinkled with fragrant, intoxicating liquids, and at the gates stood elephants summoned by beloved kings. 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. The tale of Rukmiṇī’s abduction was sung everywhere, astonishing the kings and princesses. In Dvārakā, immense joy arose among the citizens upon seeing Kṛṣṇa, the Lord of fortune, united with Rukmiṇī and Rāma. Śuka then spoke of another wondrous event. Kāma, a portion of Vāsudeva, who had previously been burned by Rudra’s anger, took birth again for the sake of embodiment, assuming that very form. Born of Vaidarbhi and endowed with Kṛṣṇa’s power, he became renowned as Pradyumna, in every way not inferior to his father. Shambara, master of illusion, abducted the infant Pradyumna, knowing him to be his enemy, and cast him into the sea before returning home. A powerful fish swallowed the child, and that fish, along with others, was caught in a great net by fishermen. The fishermen brought the fish as a gift to Shambara; the cooks took it to the kitchen, intending to cut it open. Upon seeing the child inside, they reported it to Māyāvatī. Nārada, seeing her anxious mind, told her everything: the child’s true origin and how he came to be in the fish’s belly. Māyāvatī was Rati, the famed wife of Kāma, who had been waiting for her husband’s rebirth after his body was burned. Assigned by Shambara to the kitchen, Māyāvatī recognized the child as Kāma himself and felt affection for him. In not too long a time, Pradyumna, son of Kṛṣṇa, reached full youth, stirring the hearts of the women who gazed upon him. Rati, Māyāvatī, approached him—her husband—with eyes like lotus petals and long arms, beautiful among men, casting a bashful, smiling, sidelong glance, her eyebrows raised in love-play. Pradyumna, the son of Kṛṣṇa, said to her, “Your mind, O lady, is not as a mother’s; you behave toward me as a lover, not as a mother.” Rati replied, “You are the son of Nārāyaṇa, abducted from your home by Shambara; I am your rightful wife, Rati, and you, lord, are Kāma. That demon Shambara cast you, an infant, into the ocean; a fish swallowed you, and from its belly you have come here. Now slay this formidable, unconquerable enemy of yours, skilled in hundreds of illusions, by your own powers of illusion—delusion and the like. Your mother grieves for you like a kurarī bird bereft of her young, overwhelmed by maternal love, helpless, like a cow pained without her calf.” Having spoken thus, Māyāvatī, great in magic, bestowed upon noble Pradyumna the supreme knowledge that destroys all sorcery. Armed with this wisdom, Pradyumna approached Shambara and challenged him to battle, provoking him with taunts that could not be endured. Enraged, Shambara stormed out, mace in hand, his eyes red with rage. Whirling his mace with great force at Pradyumna, he hurled it, roaring as thunder striking stone. Pradyumna, angered, hurled his own mace at the enemy, casting aside the incoming weapon. Relying on illusion, Shambara released a rain of magical weapons against Pradyumna from the sky. Afflicted by this shower, Pradyumna, the great chariot-warrior, invoked a supreme mantra of pure essence, which destroys all illusions. The demon then employed hundreds of secret Gandharva, ghost, serpent, and rakshasa spells, but Kṛṣṇa’s son dispelled them all. Finally, raising a sharp sword, adorned with crown and earrings, Pradyumna severed Shambara’s head from his body with great force, his copper-colored beard shining. The gods showered him with praises and heaps of flowers, and he was carried through the sky by his wife, Māyāvatī, moving like a celestial. Entering the splendid inner chambers, crowded with hundreds of women, Pradyumna arrived from the sky with his wife, like lightning in a cloud. Seeing him—dark as a rain cloud, clad in yellow silk, with long arms, coppery eyes, a beautiful face and gentle smile, his lotus face adorned and decorated with blue curling locks—the women, thinking him to be Kṛṣṇa, shyly hid themselves here and there.