When Pradyumna, who had been lost, finally returned to Dvārakā, the residents were overwhelmed with astonishment and joy. They exclaimed, “Ah! The boy has come back as if from the dead—by good fortune!” Mothers, who had repeatedly worshipped him with feelings reserved for their own lord and father, saw their affection for Pradyumna grow day by day. Yet, this was not surprising, for in the realm that reflects Lakshmi’s abode—where desire and love flourish—what could others, lacking virtue, possibly do? Thus concluded the account of Pradyumna’s birth in the Śrīmad Bhāgavatam, marking the end of the fifty-fifth chapter. The story continued as Śuka spoke: Satrājit, having committed a wrong, decided to give his own daughter to Krishna, personally offering the Syamantaka jewel as well. The king, curious, asked, “What wrong did Satrājit do to Krishna, O Brāhmaṇa? From where did he obtain the Syamantaka? Why did he give his daughter to Hari?” Śuka explained: Satrājit was a great devotee and close friend of the sun god. Pleased with Satrājit’s devotion, the sun bestowed upon him the Syamantaka jewel. Wearing this radiant jewel around his neck, Satrājit entered Dvārakā, shining with such brilliance that the people could not recognize him. Seeing him from a distance, the citizens, dazzled by his radiance, reported to Bhagavān, who was playing dice. They suspected he was the sun god himself and offered salutations: “O Nārāyaṇa, bearer of conch, discus, and mace; O Dāmodara, lotus-eyed Govinda, delight of the Yadus! Here comes the sun, O lord of the world, wishing to see you, stealing the sight of men with his fierce rays. Surely, the best of the gods search for your path throughout the three worlds; knowing you are hidden among the Yadus, today the unborn lord comes to see you.” Upon hearing the words of the children, the lotus-eyed Krishna laughed and said, “That is not the sun god, but Satrājit, shining with the jewel.” Satrājit entered his splendid house, decorated for auspiciousness, and placed the jewel in his shrine, consecrated by brāhmaṇas. Day after day, the jewel produced eight loads of gold. Wherever the jewel was worshipped, famine, calamities, snake afflictions, diseases, and misfortune could not occur. When the Yadu king, Śauri (Krishna), requested the jewel, Satrājit, not desiring wealth, refused to give it, disregarding Krishna’s request. One day, Prasena, Satrājit’s brother, wore the radiant jewel around his neck, mounted his horse, and went hunting in the forest. There, a lion killed Prasena and his horse, seized the jewel, and entered a mountain cave. Inside, the lion was slain by Jāmbavat, who desired the jewel. Jāmbavat then gave the jewel as a toy to his son in the cave. When Satrājit could not find his brother, he was deeply distressed. Rumors began to spread: “He of the jewel-necklace was likely killed by Krishna and went to the forest; his brother is mine.” These whispers passed from ear to ear. Hearing that his own name was stained with infamy, Krishna set out with the citizens to clear himself, following Prasena’s path. In the forest, they saw Prasena slain, his horse killed by a lion, and the lion itself killed by a bear on the mountain slope. Krishna alone entered the dreadful cave of the king of bears, shrouded in dense darkness, leaving the people outside. Inside, he saw the precious jewel made into a child’s plaything and resolved to retrieve it, waiting near the child. The nurse, seeing the unfamiliar man, cried out in fear. Hearing her, Jāmbavat, the foremost of the strong, rushed in, enraged. He fought fiercely with Krishna, not recognizing his true power and thinking him an ordinary man. A fierce duel unfolded between them, both eager for victory, using weapons, stones, trees, and their own arms—like vultures fighting over flesh. For twenty-eight days, without rest, day and night, they struck each other with fists as hard as thunderbolts. Finally, crushed by Krishna’s blows, his limbs bound and his strength spent, his body drenched in sweat, Jāmbavat was greatly astonished and spoke: “I know you are the life, vigor, strength, and power of all beings—Viṣṇu, the ancient person, the supreme lord and master. You are the creator of the creators, and that which exists among the created; you are Time, the lord of those who measure, the supreme Self, and the self of all selves. By your mere sidelong glance, slightly raised in anger, the ocean was stirred, showing the path, and a bridge was built. Lanka’s fame was made to shine, and the heads of the demons fell to earth, shattered by arrows.” Recognizing the Lord, the king of bears, Achyuta, the son of Devakī, spoke to Jāmbavat. Krishna, lotus-eyed, touched him with his hand and spoke with utmost compassion: “For the sake of the jewel, O king of bears, I have come to your cave, to clear myself of the false accusation, with this very jewel.” Filled with joy, Jāmbavat gave his own daughter, Jāmbavatī, and the jewel to Krishna, to honor him. Meanwhile, the people outside, not seeing Krishna emerge from the cave, waited twelve days in sorrow before returning to their city. Hearing that Krishna had not come out, Devakī, Rukmiṇī, Vasudeva, friends, and relatives all grieved. The sorrowful citizens of Dvārakā cursed Satrājit and, seeking news of Krishna, approached the goddess Candra-bhāgā, Durgā. Because of their worship, the goddess blessed them, and soon Hari, accomplished in his purpose and accompanied by his wife, appeared, bringing joy. When Hṛṣīkeśa, adorned with the jewel and accompanied by his wife, returned as if from death, all of Dvārakā was filled with great festivity and celebration.