After slaying the earth-born demon Naraka, Lord Hari arrived at his city, where he found over sixteen thousand royal maidens. These princesses had been seized from their homes by Naraka, but now, through Krishna’s valor, they were freed from their captivity. When these noble women saw Krishna, the best of men, entering their presence, their minds became bewildered with awe and longing. Each, in her heart, wished that he might become her husband, feeling that fate itself had brought him to them. With single-minded devotion, each princess prayed, “May this one become my husband, and may the Creator approve it.” Thus, their hearts were surrendered to Krishna, each with her own unique longing and hope. Understanding their plight and their hearts, Krishna arranged for them to be escorted to Dvārakā. He sent them adorned in spotless garments, accompanied by attendants, great treasures, chariots, horses, and abundant wealth, ensuring their dignity and honor were restored. To further honor them, Keśava dispatched sixty-four swift, four-tusked, white elephants from the lineage of Airāvata, the celestial elephant. Then, having journeyed to the abode of the king of the gods, Krishna presented the divine earrings to Aditi, the mother of the gods. There, he was honored by Indra, the king of heaven, together with his beloved Indrani. At Satyabhama’s request, Krishna uprooted the celestial Pārijāta tree and, placing it upon Garuda, defeated the assembled gods, including Indra himself, and brought the tree to his own city. He planted it in Satyabhama’s garden, enhancing its beauty. The tree’s heavenly fragrance was so alluring that swarms of bees followed it all the way from heaven. Satyabhama, overwhelmed with gratitude and joy, bowed low, touching the tips of her crown to Acyuta’s feet, and humbly asked for the fulfillment of her heart’s desire. Thus did the Lord accomplish her wishes, while the pride of the gods, shrouded in darkness, was humbled. Then, in a single moment, the Lord, who is unchanging yet assumes as many forms as needed, married all those women, appearing simultaneously in their separate mansions. Dwelling in their homes, surpassing all comparison, he delighted with his consorts, moving among them as an ordinary householder lives with his wives, yet always immersed in his own divine nature. Having attained the Lord of Lakshmi as their husband—he whose path even Brahma and the other gods cannot fathom—the women served Krishna with ever-increasing joy and love. They expressed their devotion through smiles, glances, intimate union, playful words, and bashfulness. Hundreds of maidservants also attended to the Lord, offering him seats, worship, washing his feet, betel, rest, fanning, 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, the scripture for the paramahaṃsas. Once, Bhāīṣmī—Rukmini—attended to her husband, the teacher of the world, as he sat happily upon his own bed, while she and her companions gently fanned him. He, who by his play creates, sustains, and destroys the universe, had taken birth among the Yadus for the protection of the cows and his own kin. The inner chamber where they sat was adorned with a hanging pearl necklace, a canopy, and jeweled lamps. Garlands of jasmine and other fragrant blossoms filled the air, and the gentle hum of bees mingled with the pure moonlight streaming through the lattice windows. Breezes carried the fragrance of the Pārijāta grove, mingled with the scent of aloe wood incense wafting through the openings. Krishna reclined comfortably on an exquisite couch, white as milk foam, while Rukmini, the goddess herself, attended to him. Taking a yak-tail fan with a jeweled handle from her companion, she fanned the Lord, performing her loving service. Her anklets of jewels softly rang with each step; her hands, adorned with rings and bangles, gracefully held the fan. The necklace upon her chest was reddened by the saffron of her hidden breasts beneath her garment, and her hips were encircled by a priceless girdle—she shone brilliantly beside Acyuta. Seeing her, the embodiment of beauty and fortune, who had no other refuge and whose form matched his own, Hari was pleased. Smiling, with his curling locks, earrings, and shining necklace, he addressed her with nectar-like words: “O princess, you were desired by kings—guardians of the world—endowed with power, wealth, beauty, generosity, and strength. Yet, rejecting these suitors, scorning proud kings such as Shishupala and others, you were given to me 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. 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 do not usually choose me. Marriage and friendship are proper between equals in wealth, birth, power, beauty, and status; 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. You were brought here by me to humble the pride of those kings, blinded by the intoxication of 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.” Having spoken thus, Krishna ceased, seeing Rukmini as his beloved, inseparable from himself, and thus ended her pride. When the Lord of the three worlds uttered such harsh words—never before heard from her beloved—his queen was terrified. Her heart trembled, and she fell into deep, unending sorrow, weeping. With her well-formed foot, adorned by the red glow of her nails, she traced the ground, her tears darkened by collyrium. Her breasts, smeared with saffron, were bathed with tears; she stood, head bowed, her voice choked by intense grief. Overcome by unbearable sorrow, her bracelet slipped from her limp hand, the fan fell, and her body and mind bewildered, she suddenly fainted like a plantain tree struck by the wind, her hair scattered. Seeing this, Krishna, bound by his beloved’s love and now realizing the depth of her devotion, was filled with compassion. Quickly descending from the couch, the four-armed Lord raised her up, gathered her hair, and gently wiped her face with his lotus hand.