Krishna, the Lord of all, spoke with gentle firmness to his beloved queen, Rukmiṇī: “O noble lady, I brought you here to humble the pride of those kings, who, intoxicated by their own strength, had grown arrogant. It was for the sake of the virtuous that I diminished their conceit. Truly, I am detached—I do not seek wife, children, or pleasure. I am fulfilled in my own self, and my household is but a ritual without light for me.” Having spoken thus, Krishna, seeing Rukmiṇī as inseparable from himself, ended her pride. But these words, so harsh and unlike anything she had ever heard from her beloved, struck terror into Rukmiṇī’s heart. Trembling and overwhelmed, she fell into deep, unending sorrow and wept bitterly. Her tears, darkened with collyrium, fell as with her well-formed foot, adorned by the red glow of her nails, she traced the ground. Her saffron-smeared breasts were bathed in tears, and she stood with her head bowed, her voice choked by intense grief. Overcome by unbearable sorrow and fear, her bracelet slipped from her limp hand, the fan fell, and her body and mind bewildered, she suddenly fainted, like a plantain tree struck down by the wind, her hair scattered. Seeing his beloved in such distress, Krishna, bound by her love and realizing the depth of her devotion, was moved to compassion. Quickly descending from his couch, the four-armed Lord gently raised her up, gathered her disheveled hair, and lovingly wiped her face with his lotus hand. He wiped the tears from her eyes and the sorrow from her breasts, and embraced her with his arm, for she was devoted to none but him. The Lord, who knows how to console, soothed the distressed Rukmiṇī with compassion. Her mind, bewildered by pride and Krishna’s playful jest, was undeserving of such sorrow. Krishna, the refuge of the virtuous, comforted her, saying, “Do not be angry, O princess of Vidarbha; I know your devotion to me. Wishing to hear your words, I acted only in jest, O fair one. I longed to see your face, your lips trembling in loving excitement, your sidelong glances reddened, and the beautiful curve of your frowning brows. For householders, O timid and lovely one, the highest joy in family life is to spend time in playful conversation with their beloved.” Thus consoled by the Lord, Rukmiṇī understood that his words were spoken in jest, and she let go of her fear of being abandoned. Looking upon Krishna’s face, she spoke to him with gentle, affectionate glances and a modest, charming smile: “O lotus-eyed one, what you have said is true. How could I, with such insignificant qualities and ignorance, be a fitting match for you, the Lord, master of all opulence, who delights in your own greatness? Truly, O mighty-armed one, you dwell within all virtues, yet remain untouched by them, just as the ocean lies beneath its waves. Ever free from the senses, you assume forms for your devotees, dispelling the dense darkness of ignorance from the hearts of kings. The path to your lotus feet, enjoyed by sages, is difficult indeed for men and beasts to comprehend, O Lord, for your actions are beyond worldly understanding; only those who follow you can grasp your ways. You are truly without possessions, for nothing exists apart from you; even the powerful offer tribute to you. Those blinded by insatiable desire and wealth do not know you, O beloved, yet even the mighty are dear to you, and you are dear to them. You are the embodiment of all human goals and their fruits; wise men, desiring you, renounce everything. O Lord, your association is fitting for them, not for those absorbed in the pleasures and pains of men and women. Your greatness is praised by sages who have laid aside anger—you are the soul and giver of souls to the worlds, so I have heard. When your eyebrow signals the force of time, even Brahmā and Śiva lose their blessings; what then of others? O elder brother of Gadā, your words may seem dull, but you drove away kings with the twang of your bow and took me, just as a lion seizes his share among animals; out of fear of them, I sought refuge in the ocean. Desiring you, O lotus-eyed one, the foremost of kings—such as Ambarīṣa, Nahuṣa, and Gaya—abandoned their kingdoms and entered the forest; yet why do those who remain not follow your path? Who, after smelling the fragrance of your lotus feet, spoken of by the virtuous and granting liberation, would seek any other shelter? Mortal men, their vision blinded by material pursuits, disregard the abode of Lakṣmī, the treasury of virtues. I have worshipped you, the Lord of all worlds, as is proper; you are the fulfiller of desires in this life and the next. May your feet be my sole refuge as I wander through the cycles of birth, for you surely come to those who worship you, granting freedom from falsehood. O Acyuta, in the homes of women, the men instructed by you are like donkeys, cows, horses, cats, and servants; if your stories, sung in the assemblies of Śiva and Brahmā, do not reach their ears, what is the use of their lives? A foolish woman, who has not smelled the nectar of your lotus feet, cherishes her beloved—whose body is covered with skin, hair, nails, and hair, filled with flesh, bones, blood, worms, excrement, phlegm, bile, and wind—a living corpse. O Lotus-eyed One, may I have devotion to Your feet, for You are self-satisfied and see no one as separate from Yourself. When, due to the influence of old age, the mode of passion increases in someone, and You look upon me, that alone is Your supreme compassion for us. O Madhusudana, I do not think Your words are false. For a maiden’s love is generally for her mother, and only sometimes for another. Even for a married woman of loose character, her mind turns again and again to something new. A wise man should not keep such a faithless woman; if he does, he loses both sides.” Krishna, the Blessed Lord, replied, “O chaste one, princess, you have been tested by Me with words meant to see your desire to hear. Everything you have asked about, as I have spoken, is indeed true. O beautiful one, whatever desires you may have, if you are devoted only to Me, they are always fulfilled for you, who are My exclusive devotee. O sinless one, your love for your husband and your fidelity have been proven. Even when you were agitated by My words, your mind did not waver from Me. Those who worship Me in married life, with austerity and vows, but are attached to desires, are deluded by My maya, thinking of Me as the lord of liberation. Those proud ones who, after attaining Me—the Lord and the wealth of liberation—still desire material prosperity and a husband, are unfortunate. Even in hell, for such people, hell is pleasant because of their attachment to their own kind. O mistress of the house, by good fortune you have repeatedly acted in accordance with Me, which is rare and liberates one from birth, even for women who are difficult to please, whose desires are hard to fulfill, and who indulge in deceit. O proud one, I do not see in any household a wife as devoted as you, who, at the time of your own wedding, did not consider the kings who had come, but sent the brahmin who had heard My glories to Me in secret. When your brother was disfigured in battle and killed at the gambling arena during the wedding festival, you endured that unbearable sorrow out of fear of separation from Me, and did not say anything; thus, you have conquered us. When you sent a messenger with a secret message to obtain Me, and when you thought I might abandon this unworthy body, you remained steadfast in Me; for that, we respond in kind.” Thus, Śuka said, did the Lord of the universe, by affectionate conversation, delight Rukmiṇī with his own words, playfully imitating human ways, and enjoying the loving exchange with his devoted queen.