When Krishna, the Lord of the three worlds, spoke such harsh words—words his beloved had never before heard—his queen Rukmiṇī was stricken with terror. Her heart trembled, and she fell into deep, unending sorrow, weeping bitterly. With her beautiful foot, its nails glowing red, she traced patterns on the ground, her tears—darkened by her collyrium—streaming down her face. Her saffron-scented breasts were bathed in tears as she stood there, head bowed, her voice choked by grief. Overwhelmed by unbearable sorrow and fear, her mind lost in confusion, Rukmiṇī’s bracelet slipped from her limp hand, and the fan she had been holding fell away. Her body and mind utterly bewildered, she suddenly fainted, collapsing like a plantain tree struck by the wind, her hair falling in disarray. Seeing his beloved thus, Krishna—bound by her love, and not fully aware of the depth of her devotion—was moved to compassion. At once, the four-armed Lord descended from his couch, gently raised her up, gathered her scattered hair, and wiped her face with his lotus-like hand. He dried her tears, and with his arm embraced her, comforting her as she wept, for she was devoted to none but him. With the tenderness of one who knows how to console, Krishna soothed Rukmiṇī, recognizing that her mind was troubled by pride and his playful jest. She did not deserve such sorrow, and so the Lord, refuge of the virtuous, comforted her with compassion. He said, “Do not be angry, O princess of Vidarbha. I know your heart is wholly devoted to me. Wishing to hear your words, I spoke playfully, O fair one. I only desired to see your face, your lips trembling with loving excitement, your sidelong glances reddened, and the beautiful curve of your frowning brows. For those living in the world, O gentle and lovely one, the highest joy is to spend time in playful conversation with their beloved.” Śuka continued: Thus consoled by the Lord, Rukmiṇī understood that Krishna’s words had been spoken in jest. Her fear of being abandoned by her beloved faded away. Looking at Krishna’s face, she spoke to him with gentle, affectionate glances and a charming, modest smile. Rukmiṇī said, “Indeed, O lotus-eyed one, what you have said is true. How could I, with so few virtues and so little knowledge, ever 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 in all virtues yet remain untouched by them, just as the ocean lies beneath the waves. Ever free from the senses, you take 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 for men and beasts to comprehend, O Lord, for your actions are beyond worldly understanding; only those who follow you, O great one, can grasp your ways. You are truly without possessions, for nothing exists apart from you; even the powerful offer you tribute. 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 only you, renounce everything else. O Lord, your association is fitting for them, not for those absorbed in the pleasures and pains of men and women. You, whose greatness is praised by sages who have laid aside anger, 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 unkind, 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 those kings, 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. Why do those who remain here 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, 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, and nails, 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 replied, “O chaste 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, O auspicious lady, 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 māyā, 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.” Śuka then said: In this way, the Lord of the universe, by affectionate conversation, delighted Rukmiṇī with his own words, playfully imitating the ways of mortals. In the same manner, the all-pervading Lord Hari, as the teacher of the world, resided in each of his wives’ homes, upholding the duties of householders as if he were a householder himself. Then, each of Krishna’s wives bore ten sons, each equal in strength, and a ninth son as well, all endowed with their father’s qualities. Seeing Acyuta, who never left home, always present in their houses, the royal princesses considered him their dearest, though they did not truly know his divine nature.