Maya, having been saved from the raging fire, brought as a gesture of gratitude a magnificent assembly hall. This wondrous hall would later become the site where Duryodhana, unable to discern the play of illusion, was confounded—mistaking water for solid ground. With the tasks at hand completed, Krishna, having received permission and the approval of his friends, returned once again to Dvaraka. He was accompanied by Satyaki and other close companions, and the city rejoiced at his arrival. In due course, Krishna married Kalindi at an auspicious time and season. This union brought immense joy to his people and fulfilled the highest good for all. Meanwhile, the Avanti princes, Vinda and Anuvinda, who were loyal to Duryodhana, prevented their sister Mitravinda—who cherished Krishna in her heart—from choosing her own husband during her svayamvara. But Krishna, seeing her longing and knowing her devotion, boldly took Mitravinda, daughter of the chief queen and his own father’s sister, as his bride, even as the assembled kings looked on in astonishment. There was at that time a renowned king named Nagnajit, ruler of Kosala, famed for his righteousness. His daughter, Satyā—also called Nagnajiti—was celebrated for her virtues and beauty. Many kings sought her hand, but her father had set a daunting challenge: only he who could subdue seven fierce and untamable bulls, each proud of its strength and armed with sharp horns, could win her. Hearing of this challenge and the prize it offered, Krishna, the master of the Sātvatas, journeyed to the city of Kosala, accompanied by a grand army. King Nagnajit, delighted by Krishna’s visit, welcomed him with honor—rising to greet him, offering a seat, and showing every mark of respect and reverence. When Satyā saw that the suitor she had longed for had arrived, her heart was filled with hope. She prayed silently, “If my vow is true, may this Lord—he whom I desire—become my husband and fulfill all my wishes.” Yet she also wondered, “He whose lotus feet are venerated by Lakshmi, Brahma, Shiva, and all the guardians of the worlds—he who, in sport, built a bridge for his own ends—how could such a great Lord ever be satisfied with me?” Krishna, worshipped once more, spoke as Narayana, Lord of the universe: “What need have I, who am complete in my own bliss, for anything meager?” His words were deep and resonant, his smile gentle, and he spoke with delight to the king. “O King,” Krishna said, “it is not proper for a kshatriya to beg, as the sages have declared, but desiring your friendship, I ask for your daughter’s hand—not for a bride-price, for we do not give that.” King Nagnajit replied with humility and joy, “Who could be a greater or more desirable suitor for my daughter than you, O Lord, upon whom the goddess of fortune herself dwells, the very embodiment of all virtues? Yet, O best of the Sātvatas, we made a prior agreement: the hand of my daughter would be won only by one who could triumph in a contest of strength. These seven fierce bulls have defeated and injured many a prince. If you, O delight of the Yadus, can subdue them, then you shall be my daughter’s husband, O Lord of Śrī.” Accepting the challenge, Krishna fastened his garment and, by his divine power, multiplied himself into seven forms. With playful ease, he subdued the wild bulls, breaking their pride and strength. He bound them with ropes and dragged them as effortlessly as a child drags wooden toys. Amazed and overjoyed, King Nagnajit gave his daughter Satyā to Krishna, who accepted her as his equal in every way. The royal families, now joined by this marriage, celebrated with great festivity. Conch shells, kettledrums, and trumpets resounded; songs and musical instruments filled the air. Brāhmaṇas offered their blessings, and men and women, adorned with fine garments, garlands, and ornaments, joined in the rejoicing. As dowry, Krishna gave ten thousand cows, three thousand young women adorned with necklaces and splendid attire, nine thousand elephants, chariots a hundred times more than elephants, horses a hundred times more than chariots, and men a hundred times more than horses. The newly wedded couple was placed on a chariot, and, surrounded by a mighty army, King Nagnajit—his heart overflowing with affection—sent them off toward Dvaraka. But the kings who had failed in the contest, their pride wounded by defeat, could not bear to see Krishna’s triumph. They gathered together and tried to block the procession, seeking to prevent the maiden’s departure. Arjuna, Krishna’s dear friend and protector, wielded his mighty Gāṇḍīva bow and scattered their volleys of arrows, felling them as a lion fells lesser beasts. Thus, with the dowry received, Krishna, foremost among the Yadus and son of Devakī, returned to Dvaraka and enjoyed happiness with Satyā. Krishna also married Bhadrā, the daughter of Śrutakīrti—his paternal aunt and a princess of the Kaikeyas—who was given to him by her brothers, including Santardana. In another svayamvara, Krishna alone carried off Lakṣmaṇā, daughter of the king of Madra, adorned with auspicious marks, seizing her as swiftly and surely as Garuḍa seizes nectar. In this way, after slaying Bhauma and rescuing them from captivity, Krishna accepted thousands of wives, all of enchanting appearance. At this point, King Parikshit asked the sage Śuka, “O revered one, tell me how Bhauma was slain by the Lord, and how the women who had been confined were rescued by the wielder of Śārṅga.” Śuka replied: Having had his umbrella, earrings, and companions taken by Indra, and his position atop the mountain of the gods usurped, Krishna learned of the misdeeds of the earth-born demon Bhauma. Mounting Garuḍa with his wife, Krishna set out for the city of Prāgjyotiṣa. That city was surrounded by formidable mountain fortresses, weapon fortresses, and barriers of water, fire, and wind, as well as the powerful, binding defenses created by the demon Mura. With his mace, Krishna shattered the mountains; with his arrows, he destroyed the weapon fortresses; with his discus, he overcame the barriers of fire, water, and wind; and with his sword, he cut through the bonds of Mura. The blast of his conch shell shattered the machines and struck terror into the hearts of the proud. With his mighty mace, Gadādhara smashed the ramparts. Hearing the mighty, thunderous sound of Krishna’s conch, Pāñcajanya—terrifying like the thunder at the end of an age—Mura, the demon with five heads, arose from the waters where he lay concealed. Brandishing a blazing trident, dreadful to behold and glowing like the sun and fire at destruction’s end, he rushed at Krishna, son of Tārkṣya, with his five mouths, as a serpent attacks its prey. He hurled his trident at Garuḍa and roared with his five mouths, a sound so great that it filled the heavens, all directions, and even the space within, covering the entire cosmic egg.