With deep reverence, Bhūmi, the Earth goddess, bowed before the Lord, praising him as the unborn creator of the universe, the source of infinite power, the soul within all beings—supreme and all-pervading. She extolled his cosmic roles: how, though ever-unborn, he assumes fierce forms to dissolve creation, and, for the world’s stability, abides as the pure essence of sattva. She acknowledged him as time, matter, and the Supreme Person—encompassing all that exists. Bhūmi continued, recognizing that earth, water, fire, air, ether, the senses, the gods, the mind, and the great principle—all moving and unmoving things—exist within him alone, the non-dual reality, untouched by illusion. She then pleaded for her son, who, frightened, had sought refuge at the Lord’s lotus feet, begging him to grant protection and to place his sin-removing hand upon her son’s head. Śuka then narrated how, thus addressed with humility and devotion, the Lord reassured Bhūmi and entered the splendid palace of the earth-born king. There, Hari beheld more than sixteen thousand royal maidens, whom the king had seized and whom Hari had rescued from other rulers. As the best of men entered, the women, bewildered, felt their hearts drawn to him, longing for him as their destined husband, brought to them by fate itself. Each, with her own feelings, wished for Krishna as her husband, praying that the Creator might grant this desire. Krishna, compassionate and gracious, sent the maidens to Dvārakā, adorned in spotless garments, accompanied by attendants, immense treasures, chariots, horses, and abundant wealth. He also sent sixty-four swift, four-tusked white elephants from the illustrious line of Airāvata. Then, traveling to the abode of the lord of the gods, Krishna presented the celestial earrings to Aditi and received honor from the king of the gods and Indrani. At Satyabhama’s urging, Krishna uprooted the divine Parijata tree, placed it upon Garuda, and, after defeating Indra and the gods, brought it to his own city. He established the Parijata for Satyabhama, beautifying her garden, while bees greedy for its heavenly fragrance followed the tree from the heavens. Satyabhama, overwhelmed with joy, bowed at Acyuta’s feet, her crown touching his toes, and asked for her heart’s desire. By granting her wish, the Lord’s greatness was displayed, while the pride of the gods was shown to be so deep. Then, in but a single instant, the Lord—unchanging, yet assuming as many forms as needed—married each of the women in their respective mansions. He dwelled with them, surpassing all comparison, delighting in their company, immersed in his own divine will, just as a householder lives with his wives. Having attained the Lord of Lakshmi as their husband—whose path even Brahma and the greatest gods cannot fathom—the women served him with ever-increasing joy and love, through smiles, glances, intimate union, playful words, and bashfulness. Hundreds of maidservants also attended to the Lord, offering every comfort: greeting him, offering seats, performing worship, washing his feet, bringing betel, providing rest, fanning him, presenting fragrant garlands, arranging his hair, preparing his bed, bathing him, and giving gifts. Thus concludes the fifty-ninth chapter, entitled “The Taking of the Parijata Tree and the Slaying of Naraka,” in the tenth book of the Śrīmad Bhāgavata Mahāpurāṇa, the scripture for the realized souls. Then, as the narrative continues, Śrī Bādarāyaṇa describes a tranquil scene: once, Bhāīṣmī—Rukmini—attended to her husband, the teacher of the world, as he sat content upon his own bed, while she and her companions gently fanned him. He, who by his divine play creates, preserves, and destroys the universe, had taken birth among the Yadus for the protection of cows and his own kin. The inner chamber was resplendent: a necklace of pearls hung from above, a canopy and jeweled lamps illuminated the room, garlands of jasmine and other blossoms filled the air, and bees hummed sweetly. Pure moonlight filtered through lattice windows, while breezes wafted the scent of the Parijata grove and incense of aloe wood. On a magnificent couch, white as milk foam, Rukmini attended her Lord as he sat at ease. Taking a yak-tail fan with a jeweled handle from her companion, she fanned Krishna, performing her loving service. She shone beside Acyuta, her anklets softly ringing, her hands adorned with rings and bangles and the fan, her necklace tinged with saffron from her hidden breasts beneath her garment, her hips encircled by a priceless girdle. Seeing her, the very embodiment of beauty and fortune, who had assumed a form to match his own, and having no other refuge, Hari was pleased. Smiling, his curling locks, earrings, and shining necklace radiant, Krishna spoke gently to her, his nectar-like smile upon his lips. He said, “O princess, you were sought by many kings—guardians of the world—endowed with great power, wealth, beauty, generosity, and strength. You rejected these suitors, scorning proud kings like Shishupala, and were given by your brother and father; why did you not choose someone equal to yourself? Out of fear of the kings, you sought refuge in the ocean, making enemies of the powerful and abandoning royal comforts. Generally, women who follow men whose path is uncertain, who have left the ways of the world, come to grief. “We are always destitute, dear to those who are destitute; thus, wealthy women rarely choose me. Marriage and friendship are proper between equals in wealth, birth, power, beauty, and status—not 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 ascetics. Therefore, unite yourself with a Kshatriya hero who matches you, by whom you will obtain true blessings in this world and the next. Shishupala, Shalva, Jarasandha, Dantavakra, and other kings, and even your elder brother Rukmi, are hostile to me. “O good lady, you were brought here by me to humble the pride of those kings, blinded by their strength, and to diminish their arrogance for the sake of the virtuous. Truly, I am indifferent, not seeking wife, children, or pleasure; I am fulfilled in myself, and my household is but a shadow of ritual.” Śuka then said: Having spoken thus, the Lord ceased, recognizing her as his beloved, inseparable from himself, and thus ended her pride.