O Nārāyaṇa, bearer of the conch, discus, and mace—O Dāmodara, lotus-eyed Govinda, delight of the Yadus!—the children of Dvārakā offered their reverent salutations to Krishna, joyfully hailing him with these names. As they spoke, the brilliant sun began to rise, its fierce rays dazzling the eyes of all who beheld it. The children exclaimed to Krishna, “Here comes the sun, O lord of the world, eager to see you, stealing the sight of men with its brilliance!” They wondered aloud, “Surely, the best of the gods search for your path in all the three worlds. Knowing you are hidden among the Yadus, today even the unborn lord comes to see you.” But Krishna, the lotus-eyed one, laughed gently at their words. “That is not the sun god,” he said, “but Satrājit, shining with the jewel.” Indeed, Satrājit entered his splendid house, which was beautifully decorated for auspiciousness. There, in a shrine consecrated by brāhmaṇas, he placed the wondrous jewel. Day after day, this divine gem produced eight loads of gold, and wherever it was worshipped, famine, calamity, snake afflictions, disease, and misfortune did not occur. When the Yadu king, Śauri (Krishna), requested the jewel, Satrājit, disinterested in sharing its wealth, refused and disregarded the request. Not long after, Satrājit’s brother Prasena, wearing the radiant jewel around his neck, mounted his horse and rode into the forest to hunt. There, tragedy struck—Prasena and his horse were slain by a lion, which seized the jewel and carried it into a mountain cave. But inside that cave, the lion was in turn killed by Jāmbavat, the mighty king of the bears, who coveted the jewel for himself. Jāmbavat took the jewel and gave it as a plaything to his own son. Meanwhile, Satrājit, unable to find his brother, was overcome with distress. Rumors began to spread among the people: “He of the jewel-necklace—Prasena—was likely killed by Krishna and taken to the forest. His brother is mine!” These whispers traveled from ear to ear, casting suspicion on Krishna. Hearing that his own name was being stained by such infamy, Krishna, ever concerned for truth and justice, set out with the citizens to clear himself. They followed the path that Prasena had taken. In the forest, they found Prasena slain, and nearby, his horse killed by a lion. On the mountain slope, they discovered the lion, itself killed by a bear. At this point, Krishna entered the dreadful cave of the king of bears alone, leaving the people outside. The cave was thick with darkness. Inside, Krishna saw the precious jewel made into a plaything for a child. He resolved to reclaim it and stood waiting near the child. Suddenly, the nurse saw Krishna—an unfamiliar man—and cried out in fear. Hearing her alarm, Jāmbavat, the strongest of the strong, rushed in, enraged. Not recognizing Krishna as his own master, he mistook him for an ordinary man and engaged him in battle. A fierce duel erupted between them, both determined to win. They fought with weapons, stones, trees, and their own arms, like vultures battling over flesh. For twenty-eight days and nights, without rest, they struck each other with fists as hard as thunderbolts. At last, Jāmbavat, his limbs crushed by Krishna’s blows, his strength spent, and his body drenched in sweat, was greatly astonished. In awe, he spoke to Krishna: “I know you are the very 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 itself, the supreme Self, the self of all selves. By your mere sidelong glance, slightly raised in anger, the ocean was stirred, a path was shown, 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 before him, Jāmbavat addressed Krishna, son of Devakī, with reverence. Krishna, his voice deep as a raincloud and his eyes like lotuses, compassionately touched Jāmbavat and spoke: “O king of bears, I have come to your cave for the sake of the jewel, to clear myself of false accusation with this very gem.” Hearing these words, Jāmbavat was filled with joy. To honor Krishna, he gave his own daughter, Jāmbavatī, and the jewel to him. Outside the cave, the people waited anxiously. When Krishna did not emerge, they waited twelve days in sorrow before returning to the city. News of Krishna’s disappearance grieved Devakī, Rukmiṇī, Vasudeva, and all their friends and relatives. The citizens of Dvārakā, sorrowful and distressed, cursed Satrājit and, hoping for news of Krishna, approached the goddess Candra-bhāgā, Durgā, in prayer. Moved by their worship, the goddess blessed them with guidance, and soon after, Hari—Krishna—accomplished in his purpose and accompanied by his new wife, appeared, filling all with joy. Seeing Krishna, adorned with the jewel and accompanied by Jāmbavatī, return as if from death itself, the people of Dvārakā rejoiced in great festivity. Krishna summoned Satrājit into the royal assembly and recounted the recovery of the jewel, presenting it to him before the king and all present. Satrājit, deeply ashamed, accepted the gem with downcast face and returned home, tormented by his own wrongdoing. Disturbed by remorse and inner conflict, he pondered, “How can I cleanse myself of this sin? How might I please Acyuta? What should I do so that people consider me virtuous and do not curse me as short-sighted, petty, foolish, and greedy for wealth?” He resolved, “I will give Krishna my daughter, a jewel among women, along with the gem itself. This is the proper way to appease him; there is no other.” With this resolve, Satrājit personally brought his virtuous daughter and the jewel to Krishna and offered them both. Krishna duly married Satyabhāmā, who was sought by many for her character, beauty, and noble qualities. Yet Krishna said to Satrājit, “We do not accept the jewel, O King. Let it remain with you, a devotee of the gods, while we partake of its benefit.” Thus, harmony was restored, and peace returned to Dvārakā.