When the earth herself, Bhūmi, beheld the Lord—He who wields the conch, discus, and mace, the Supreme Soul who assumes forms according to the wishes of His devotees—she bowed low in reverence. With humility, Bhūmi offered her salutations: “Obeisance to you, Lord of gods, lotus-naveled one, adorned with a garland of lotuses, lotus-eyed, whose feet are like lotuses. Salutations to you, Bhagavān Vāsudeva, Viṣṇu, the Supreme Person, the original seed, the one of complete knowledge. Obeisance to you, the unborn creator of the universe, of infinite power, immanent and supreme soul of all. Whenever you desire to create, O unborn Lord, you assume fierce forms for dissolution; for the world’s stability, you are sattva itself, and you are time, matter, and the supreme person—all that exists.” She continued, “Earth, water, fire, air, ether, the senses, gods, mind, and the great principle—all moving and unmoving things are in you, O non-dual Lord, where delusion finds no place. This son of yours, frightened, has sought refuge at your lotus feet, seeking relief from distress. Therefore, protect him—place your sin-destroying lotus hand upon his head.” Śuka then said: Thus addressed by Bhūmi, whose words were filled with devotion and humility, the Lord comforted her and entered the splendid palace of the earth-born king. There, Hari saw over sixteen thousand royal maidens, whom the earth-born king had seized and whom Krishna had rescued from those kings who had taken them captive. When these noble women saw the best of men enter, they were bewildered, yet in their hearts, each desired him as her chosen husband, brought to them by destiny. Each one thought, “May this one become my husband, and may the Creator approve it,” and so, with their own unique feelings, each gave her heart to Krishna. Krishna, compassionate and generous, sent them to Dvārakā, adorned in spotless garments, accompanied by attendants, great treasures, chariots, horses, and abundant wealth. Keśava also sent with them sixty-four swift, four-tusked, white elephants descended from the line of Airāvata. Having journeyed to the realm of the lord of the gods, Krishna presented the earrings to Aditi and was honored by Indra, the king of the gods, together with his beloved Indrani. At Satyabhāmā’s request, Krishna then uprooted the celestial Pārijāta tree, placed it upon Garuḍa, and, after defeating the gods and Indra himself, brought it to his own city. He established the Pārijāta tree in Satyabhāmā’s garden, enhancing its beauty, while bees, greedy for its divine fragrance, followed the tree all the way from heaven. Satyabhāmā, her crown touching Acyuta’s feet, humbly begged for the fulfillment of her desire. By this act, her longing was satisfied—yet, seeing the pride of the gods obscured by darkness, one could only marvel. Then, in a single moment, the Lord—unchanging and all-pervading—manifested as many forms as needed and married each of those women in their own mansions. Dwelling with them, surpassing all comparison, he delighted in their company, immersed in his own divine play, just as an ordinary householder lives with his wives. Having attained the Lord of Lakṣmī as their husband—a path even Brahmā and the gods do not know—the women joyfully and lovingly served him, their affection ever increasing. They served him with smiles, glances, intimate union, playful words, and bashfulness. Hundreds of maidservants also rendered service to the Lord—meeting him, offering seats, worship, washing his feet, presenting betel, providing rest, fanning him, offering fragrant garlands, arranging his hair, preparing his bed, bathing him, and presenting gifts. Thus concludes the fifty-ninth chapter, “The Taking of the Pārijāta Tree and the Slaying of Naraka,” in the Tenth Book of the Śrīmad Bhāgavata Mahāpurāṇa, scripture for the paramahaṃsas. Now, once, Bhāīṣmī—known as Rukmiṇī—attended to her husband, Krishna, the teacher of the world, as he sat happily on his own bed. With her companions, she fanned him, offering gentle service. He, who by his playful will creates, sustains, and destroys the universe, had been born among the Yadus for the protection of the cows and his own kin. The inner chamber was resplendent—adorned with a hanging pearl necklace, a canopy, and jeweled lamps. Garlands of jasmine and other blossoms hung about, while the hum of bees and pure moonlight streamed through the lattice windows. Breezes carried the fragrance of the Pārijāta grove and gardens, and incense of aloe wood drifted through the air. On a most excellent couch, white as milk foam, Rukmiṇī attended her Lord as he sat comfortably. Taking a yak-tail fan with a jeweled handle from her companion, she fanned Krishna, worshipping him. Her anklets of jewels softly chimed as she moved; her hands, adorned with rings and bangles, held the fan. Her necklace, reddened by saffron from her hidden breasts beneath her garment, and her hips, encircled by a priceless girdle, shone beside Acyuta. Seeing her—embodiment of beauty and fortune, having no other refuge, and whose form matched his own—Hari was pleased. Smiling, his curling locks, earrings, and shining necklace radiant, nectar-like smiles upon his lips, he spoke to her. The Blessed Lord said, “O princess, you were desired by kings—the guardians of the world—endowed with great power, wealth, beauty, generosity, and strength. Rejecting those suitors who sought your hand, scorning proud kings like Śiśupāla and others, you were given by your brother and father—why did you not choose someone equal to yourself? O beautiful-browed one, out of fear of the kings, you sought refuge in the ocean, having made enemies of the powerful and abandoned royal seats. O lovely-browed one, women who follow men whose path is unclear, who have left the way of the world, generally come to grief.” He continued, “We are always destitute, and dear to those who are destitute; therefore, O slender-waisted one, wealthy women generally do not choose me. Marriage and friendship are proper between those whose wealth, birth, power, beauty, and status are equal; never between the highest and the lowest. O princess of Vidarbha, not understanding this, you have chosen me—one lacking in qualities—praised in vain by wandering mendicants. Therefore, unite yourself with a Kṣatriya hero who matches you, by whom you will obtain true blessings in this world and the next. Śiśupāla, Śālva, Jarāsandha, Dantavakra, and other kings, O slender-thighed one, are hostile to me, and even your elder brother Rukmi is among them.” Thus, in the opulent palace, amidst fragrance and gentle service, Krishna playfully tested the heart of his beloved Rukmiṇī, revealing both his divine humility and the depth of her devotion.