Desiring to create and sustain the worlds, the unborn Lord assumes fierce forms for dissolution, and for their stability, he embodies sattva. Time, matter, and the supreme person—all are but facets of his being. Earth, water, fire, air, ether, the senses, the gods, the mind, and the great principle—everything that moves and does not move exists within him, the non-dual Lord, untouched by delusion. Before him, Bhumi, the earth goddess, pleaded for mercy. She spoke of her son, terrified and seeking refuge at the Lord’s lotus feet, yearning for relief from distress. She implored the Lord to protect him, to place his sin-removing lotus hand upon his head. Śuka narrated that, hearing Bhumi’s humble and devoted words, the Lord comforted her and entered the splendid palace of the earth-born king. There, Hari beheld over sixteen thousand royal maidens, whom the earth-born king had seized and whom Krishna had rescued from oppressive kings. As Krishna entered, the maidens were bewildered. In their hearts, each longed for him as her chosen husband, feeling that fate had brought him to them. Each woman, with her own unique longing, prayed, “May this one become my husband, and may the Creator approve it.” Thus, each gave her heart to Krishna. He sent them to Dvārakā, adorned in immaculate garments, accompanied by attendants, treasures, chariots, horses, and abundant wealth. Keśava also dispatched sixty-four swift, four-tusked, white elephants from the lineage of Airāvata. Krishna then went to the abode of the king of the gods, offering the earrings to Aditi. There, he was honored by Indra and his beloved Indrani. At Satyabhama’s urging, Krishna uprooted the Parijata tree, placed it upon Garuda, and, after defeating the gods and Indra, brought it to his city. He established the Parijata tree for Satyabhama, enhancing the beauty of her garden. Bees, enticed by its heavenly fragrance, followed it from the skies. Satyabhama bowed, touching Acyuta’s feet with her crown, and begged for her desire to be fulfilled. By this act, she was considered accomplished, though the pride among the gods seemed ever deep. In a single moment, the Lord, unchanging and capable of assuming countless forms, married each of the women in their own mansions. He dwelled in their homes, surpassing all comparison or distinction, delighting with his consorts and immersed in his own desire, just as an ordinary householder lives with his wives. Having attained the Lord of Lakshmi as their husband—whose path even Brahma and others cannot fathom—the women served him joyfully, their love ever increasing, through smiles, glances, intimate union, playful words, and bashfulness. Hundreds of maidservants also attended to the Lord, offering seats, worship, washing his feet, betel, rest, fanning, fragrant garlands, arranging his hair, preparing his bed, bathing, and presenting gifts. Thus concludes the fifty-ninth chapter, “The Taking of the Parijata Tree and the Slaying of Naraka,” from the tenth book of the Śrīmad Bhāgavata Mahāpurāṇa, the scripture for the paramahaṃsas. Once, Bhāīṣmī attended to her husband, the world’s teacher, as he sat contentedly upon his bed, fanned by her and her companions. He, who by his play creates, sustains, and destroys the universe, was born among the Yadus to protect the cows and his kin. In that inner chamber, adorned with hanging pearl necklaces, a jeweled canopy, and radiant lamps, garlands of jasmine and other blossoms filled the air, bees hummed, and pure moonlight streamed through lattice windows. Breezes carried the fragrance of the Parijata grove, gardens abounded, and the incense of aloe wood wafted through the openings. On a couch as white as milk foam, Bhāīṣmī attended her husband, the Lord of the worlds, as he sat comfortably. Taking a yak-tail fan with a jeweled handle from her companion, the goddess fanned the Lord, performing worship. Her anklets softly rang as she stepped, her hands adorned with rings and bangles, the fan, her necklace tinged with saffron from her hidden breasts beneath her garment, and her hips encircled by a priceless girdle—she shone beside Acyuta. Seeing her, the embodiment of beauty and fortune, having no other refuge, who by her play had assumed a form matching his own, Hari was pleased. Smiling with his curling locks, earrings, and shining necklace, nectar-like smiles on his lips, he spoke to her. “O princess,” he said, “you were desired by kings—guardians of the world—endowed with power, wealth, beauty, generosity, and strength. Rejecting those suitors, scorning proud kings like Shishupala 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, making enemies of the powerful and abandoning royal seats. Women who follow men whose path is unclear, who have left the way of the world, generally come to grief. 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 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, O slender-thighed one, are hostile to me, and even your elder brother Rukmi is among them. 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 lightless ritual.” Śuka said: Having spoken thus, the Lord ceased, seeing her as his beloved, inseparable from himself, and thus ended her pride. When the Lord of the three worlds spoke such harsh words—never before heard from her beloved—his queen, terrified and trembling at heart, fell into deep, unending sorrow, weeping.