Shambara, the master of illusion, once abducted an infant—Pradyumna, the son of Krishna—knowing him to be his destined enemy. Though the child was yet unharmed, Shambara cast him into the sea and returned to his home, thinking he had rid himself of danger. But fate intervened: a mighty fish swallowed the infant as it swam in the ocean. In time, fishermen caught this fish, along with others, in their vast nets. The fishermen, unaware of the treasure within, brought the fish as a gift to Shambara. The cooks, preparing to open it in the kitchen, were astonished to find a living child inside. They hurried to report this wonder to Māyāvatī, the cook assigned by Shambara. Her mind troubled, Māyāvatī listened as the sage Nārada revealed the truth: the child’s origin, his abduction, and how he had come to be inside the fish’s belly. Māyāvatī herself was no ordinary woman. She was Rati, the famed wife of Kāma, awaiting the rebirth of her beloved, whose body had been burned by Shiva’s wrath. Now, recognizing the child as Kāma himself, Māyāvatī’s heart overflowed with affection for the boy. Not long after, the son of Krishna grew to full youth, captivating the hearts of the women who beheld him. Rati, with eyes like lotus petals and long arms, beautiful among men, approached Pradyumna—her husband—casting a bashful, smiling, sidelong glance, her eyebrows raised in playful love. Pradyumna, called Kārṣṇi, noticed her demeanor and said, “O lady, your mind is not as a mother’s; you treat 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 reborn. That demon Shambara cast you, an infant, into the ocean; a fish swallowed you, and from its belly, lord, you have come here. Now, slay this formidable, unconquerable enemy, 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, imparted to the 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. Shambara, enraged like a serpent struck by a foot, stormed out, mace in hand, his eyes red with fury. Whirling his mace with tremendous force, he hurled it at Pradyumna, roaring like thunder striking stone. Pradyumna, undaunted, angrily hurled his own mace at the enemy, casting aside Shambara’s weapon. Relying on illusion, Shambara unleashed a rain of magical weapons from the sky, assailing the son of Krishna. Afflicted by this shower, Pradyumna invoked a supreme mantra of pure essence, which destroys all illusions. Shambara then employed hundreds of secret Gandharva, ghost, serpent, and rakshasa spells, but Krishna’s son dispelled them all. Finally, Pradyumna, adorned with crown and earrings, raised a sharp sword and, with great force, severed Shambara’s head from his body, his copper-colored beard shining. The gods showered him with praises and heaps of flowers, and Māyāvatī carried him through the sky, moving like a celestial. They entered the splendid inner chambers, crowded with hundreds of women, arriving from the sky like lightning in a cloud. Pradyumna’s appearance—dark as a rain cloud, clad in yellow silk, with long arms, coppery eyes, a beautiful face and gentle smile—enchanted all. His lotus face, adorned with blue curling locks, made the women think he was Krishna himself, and they shyly hid themselves here and there. Gradually, with slight embarrassment, the women discerned his true identity and approached joyfully, amazed at the precious jewel among them. Vaidarbhi, sweet-spoken and dark-eyed, remembered her lost son, her breasts moist with affection. She wondered, “Who is this jewel among men, lotus-eyed? Whose son is he? By whom was he carried in the womb? Who is this woman who has gained him, or by whom was he obtained? My own son was lost, taken from the birthing chamber. This one is of similar age and form—if he lives somewhere, where could it be? How has he attained such resemblance to Krishna—in form, limbs, gait, voice, smile, and glance? Surely, he must be the very child I carried in my womb. My left arm trembles with affection, and my love for him grows stronger.” While Vaidarbhi pondered thus, Krishna, the illustrious son of Devaki, arrived with Devaki and Vasudeva. Though knowing everything, Krishna remained silent, and Nārada narrated the entire story, including the slaying of Shambara. Hearing this wondrous tale, the women of Krishna’s inner chambers rejoiced, welcoming the one who had been lost for many years, as if returned from the dead. Devaki and Vasudeva, along with Krishna and Balarama and their wives, embraced the couple, and Rukmini too, rejoicing. News spread through Dvārakā: “Ah! The boy has come back as if from the dead—by good fortune!” Mothers worshipped Pradyumna, feeling for him as they did for their own lord and father, their affection growing daily. Yet, it is not strange; in the reflection of Lakshmi’s abode, in the domain of desire and love, what could others, lacking virtue, do? Thus ends the fifty-fifth chapter, entitled “The Account of Pradyumna’s Birth,” in the tenth book, second part, of the great Purāṇa Śrīmad Bhāgavatam, the scripture of the supreme paramahaṃsa tradition. Then begins the fifty-sixth chapter. Śrī Śuka said: Satrājit, having committed a wrong, gave his own daughter to Krishna, personally offering the Syamantaka jewel.