Whispers spread among the people: “He of the jewel-necklace—Prasena—was likely killed by Krishna and went to the forest; his brother is mine.” The rumor, passed from ear to ear, cast a shadow upon Krishna’s name. Hearing that his reputation was stained with such infamy, the Blessed Lord resolved to clear himself. Gathering the citizens, Krishna set out, following the path that Prasena had taken. In the forest, they found Prasena slain, his horse killed by a lion. As they traced the trail further, they saw that the lion, too, had been killed—this time by a bear on the mountain slope. Krishna, determined to uncover the truth, entered alone into the dreadful cave of the king of bears, leaving the people outside, for the cave was shrouded in dense darkness. Inside, Krishna saw the precious jewel—the Syamantaka—made into a plaything for a child. He resolved to retrieve it and stood waiting near the child. The nurse, startled by the unfamiliar presence, cried out in fear. Her cry brought Jāmbavān, the mighty king of bears, rushing in, enraged. Not recognizing Krishna’s true power, and thinking him an ordinary man, Jāmbavān fought fiercely with his own master. A fierce duel ensued between Krishna and Jāmbavān, both eager for victory. They fought with weapons, stones, trees, and their own arms, like vultures battling over flesh. For twenty-eight days, day and night, without rest, they struck each other with fists as hard as thunderbolts. At last, Jāmbavān’s strength was spent; his limbs were bound, his body drenched in sweat, and he was greatly astonished. Crushed by Krishna’s blows, he 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 indeed 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 whose mere sidelong glance, raised in anger, the ocean was stirred, showing the path; a bridge was built, Lanka’s fame made to shine, and the heads of the demons fell, shattered by arrows.” Recognizing Krishna as the Lord, Jāmbavān, king of bears, addressed Achyuta, the son of Devakī. Krishna, lotus-eyed and compassionate, touched Jāmbavān with his hand and spoke in a voice deep as a cloud: “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.” Jāmbavān, filled with joy, gave his own daughter, Jāmbavatī, and the jewel to Krishna, honoring him. Meanwhile, outside the cave, the people waited for twelve days, sorrowful that Śauri—Krishna—had not emerged. Eventually, they returned to their city, hearts heavy. News of Krishna’s absence reached Devakī, the queen, Rukmiṇī, Vasudeva, friends, and relatives, and all grieved deeply. The citizens of Dvārakā, distressed, cursed Satrājit, suspecting him of wrongdoing, and to seek news of Krishna, they approached the goddess Candra-bhāgā, Durgā. Their worship moved the goddess, and she blessed them, instructing them that Hari would soon return. Thus, Krishna, accomplished in his purpose and accompanied by his wife, appeared, bringing joy to all. Seeing Hṛṣīkeśa, adorned with the Syamantaka jewel and accompanied by Jāmbavatī, return as if from death, the city erupted in great festivity. Krishna summoned Satrājit into the royal assembly and, in the presence of the king, recounted the recovery of the jewel and presented it to him. Satrājit, greatly ashamed, took the gem and returned home, tormented by his own wrongdoing. Disturbed by intense remorse and inner conflict, he pondered, “How can I cleanse myself of this sin? How might Acyuta be pleased with me? 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 him my daughter, a jewel among women, along with the gem itself. This is the proper way for his appeasement; there is no other.” Thus determined, Satrājit personally brought his virtuous daughter, Satyabhāmā, and the jewel, offering them to Krishna. The Lord duly married Satyabhāmā, who was sought by many for her character, beauty, and noble qualities. But Krishna said, “We do not accept the jewel, O King. Let it remain with you, a devotee of the gods, while we partake of its benefit.” Some time later, Śuka narrated: Once, the Supreme Person, adorned with attendants like Yuyudhāna, went to Indraprastha to visit the Pāṇḍavas. Upon seeing Mukunda, the Lord of all, the heroic sons of Pāṇḍu rose together, as if life itself had returned to them. Embracing Acyuta, the heroes were freed from all distress by the touch of his limbs, and rejoiced at his affectionate, smiling face. Krishna offered obeisance at the feet of Yudhiṣṭhira and Bhīma, embraced Arjuna, and was honored by the twins. Draupadī, recently married and somewhat bashful, approached and respectfully greeted Krishna, who was seated on the chief seat. In the same way, Satyaki was honored and greeted by the Pāṇḍavas, and took his seat, along with other honored guests. Krishna approached Kuntī, offered his salutations, and was embraced by her, her eyes moist with deep affection. He inquired about her welfare, that of her daughters-in-law, her sister, and all her relatives. Kuntī, recalling the many hardships she had endured and the vision of the Self that comes after suffering, spoke to Krishna with a voice choked by love and eyes filled with tears: “Only then did our well-being arise, when we gained a protector; remembering our kin, O Krishna, my brother was sent to you. For you, who are the friend and the Self of all, there is no confusion of ‘us’ and ‘them’; yet, dwelling in the heart, you always dispel the sorrows of those who remember you.