Rati, the renowned wife of Kāma, waited in longing for the rebirth of her beloved, whose body had been consumed by fire. Assigned by the demon Shambara to work in the kitchen, Māyāvatī—none other than Rati herself—recognized the young child brought before her as Kāma incarnate, and her heart overflowed with affection for him. Before long, this child, Pradyumna, son of Krishna, grew into full youth. His handsome presence stirred the hearts of all the women who beheld him. Rati, with eyes like lotus petals and arms graceful and long, beautiful among men, approached her husband. She cast a bashful, smiling, sidelong glance, her eyebrows raised in playful love. Pradyumna, the son of Krishna, noticed her demeanor and said, “O lady, your mind 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.” She explained how Shambara, the demon, had cast him—an infant—into the ocean, where a fish swallowed him, and from its belly, he had come into her care. Rati urged him, “Now slay this formidable, unconquerable enemy of yours, skilled in hundreds of illusions, by your own powers of illusion—delusion and the like.” She spoke of his mother’s grief, who mourned her lost child like a kurarī bird bereft of her young, overwhelmed by maternal love, helpless as a cow pained without her calf. Having spoken thus, Māyāvatī, herself great in magic, bestowed upon noble Pradyumna the supreme knowledge that destroys all sorcery. Empowered, Pradyumna approached Shambara and challenged him to battle, provoking him with taunts that could not be endured, stirring up conflict. Assailed with harsh words, Shambara, like a serpent struck by a foot, stormed out with mace in hand, his eyes red with rage. He whirled his mace fiercely and hurled it at the great-souled Pradyumna, roaring with a sound as harsh as thunder striking stone. Pradyumna, angered, hurled his own mace at the enemy, casting aside the incoming weapon. Relying on illusion granted by Maya, the demon unleashed a rain of magical weapons from the sky against Krishna’s son. Afflicted by this shower, Rukmini’s son, the mighty chariot-warrior, 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. 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 his wife carried him through the sky, moving like a celestial being. Arriving in the splendid inner chambers, crowded with hundreds of women, Pradyumna entered from the sky with his wife, like lightning within a cloud. The women beheld him: dark as a rain cloud, clad in yellow silk, with long arms, coppery eyes, a beautiful face, and a gentle smile. His lotus face was adorned, decorated with blue curling locks. Mistaking him for Krishna, the women shyly hid themselves here and there. Gradually discerning the truth, with slight embarrassment, the women approached joyfully, amazed at the precious jewel among them. Vaidarbhi, Rukmini herself, dark-eyed and sweet-spoken, 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?” She recalled her own son, lost from the birthing chamber, noting this youth’s similar age and form, and pondered where he might have lived if he survived. She marveled at his resemblance to Krishna—the wielder of the Sharnga bow—in form, limbs, gait, voice, smile, and glance. Surely, she thought, he must be the very child she carried in her womb, as her left arm trembled with affection and her love for him grew stronger. While Vaidarbhi pondered thus, Krishna, the illustrious son of Devaki, arrived with Devaki and Vasudeva. Though Krishna knew everything, he remained silent; the sage Narada 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, Balarama, their wives, and Rukmini, embraced the couple, rejoicing. News spread through Dvārakā: “Ah! The boy has come back as if from the dead—by good fortune!” Pradyumna, whom mothers worshipped with feelings for their own lord and father, whose affection grew daily, was welcomed with love. Yet, in the domain of desire and love, the reflection of Lakshmi’s abode, what could others, lacking virtue, do? Thus ends the fifty-fifth chapter, “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. The king inquired, “What wrong did Satrājit do to Krishna, O Brāhmaṇa? From where did he get the Syamantaka? Why did he give his daughter to Hari?” Śrī Śuka replied: Satrājit was a great devotee and close friend of the sun god. Pleased with him, the sun bestowed upon Satrājit the Syamantaka jewel. Wearing the jewel on his neck, shining like the sun, Satrājit entered Dvārakā, and due to his radiance, was not recognized by the people. Seeing him from a distance, the people, dazzled by his brilliance, reported to Bhagavān, who was playing dice, suspecting the visitor was the sun god himself.