Rukmiṇī, her heart full of devotion and humility, spoke to Krishna, whose greatness is celebrated by sages who have renounced anger. She acknowledged Him as the very soul of the worlds and the giver of souls, as she had heard from the wise. She reflected that when even the mere movement of His eyebrow signals the force of time, the blessings of Brahmā and Śiva are lost—so what hope could others have before such power? Rukmiṇī recalled how, though Krishna’s words seemed gentle, with the mere twang of His bow He had dispersed the assembled kings and claimed her as His own, just as a lion seizes its rightful share among animals. Out of fear of those kings, she had sought refuge in the ocean, desperate for safety and deliverance. She remembered that illustrious kings such as Ambarīṣa, Nahuṣa, and Gaya, desiring only Krishna, had abandoned their kingdoms and retreated to the forest. Yet she wondered why others, who remained in the world, did not follow the same path toward Him. Rukmiṇī wondered aloud: who, after even once smelling the fragrance of Krishna’s lotus feet—celebrated by the virtuous and bestowing liberation—would seek any other shelter? She lamented that mortal men, blinded by the pursuit of worldly pleasures, disregard the abode of Lakṣmī, the treasury of all virtues. She confessed that she had worshipped Krishna, Lord of all worlds, as was proper. He is the fulfiller of desires in this life and the next. She prayed that His feet would be her only refuge as she wandered through the cycles of birth and death, for she knew that He surely comes to those who worship Him, granting them freedom from illusion. Rukmiṇī then reflected on the fate of men in the homes of women: if they have not heard Krishna’s stories—sung even in the assemblies of Śiva and Brahmā—what is the use of their lives? They are like donkeys, cows, horses, cats, and servants, lacking the highest purpose. She pitied the foolish woman who, never having tasted the nectar of Krishna’s lotus feet, clings to her beloved—a body merely covered in skin, hair, and nails, filled with flesh, bones, blood, worms, excrement, phlegm, bile, and wind—a living corpse. She prayed again for unwavering devotion to Krishna’s feet, for He is self-satisfied and sees none as separate from Himself. She asked that, even when old age comes and passion arises, His compassionate glance might fall upon her, for that alone would be the highest mercy. Rukmiṇī assured Krishna that she believed His words were true, for a maiden’s love is generally for her mother, and only sometimes for another. Even a married woman of questionable character, she said, often turns her mind to something new. A wise man should not keep faith in such a woman, for he loses both sides. Then Krishna, the Blessed Lord, responded to Rukmiṇī: “O chaste princess, I have tested you with words to see your heart’s desire to hear. All that you have asked, as I have spoken, is true. Whatever desires you may have, if you are devoted solely to Me, they will always be fulfilled, for you are My exclusive devotee.” He praised her, saying, “O sinless one, your love and fidelity to your husband have been proven. Even when agitated by My words, your mind did not waver from Me. Those who worship Me in married life, with austerity and vows but remain attached to desires, are deluded by My maya, thinking of Me only as the lord of liberation. Those who, after attaining Me and liberation, still desire material prosperity and a husband are unfortunate. Even in hell, such people find it pleasant because of their attachment to their own kind.” Krishna continued, “By good fortune, you have always 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 may be deceitful. 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 assembled, but sent the brahmin who had heard My glories to Me in secret.” He recalled, “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 utter a word; in this way, you have conquered us. When you sent a messenger with a secret message to seek Me, and when you thought I might abandon this unworthy body, you remained steadfast in Me; for that, I respond in kind.” Śuka, the sage, then narrated that in this way, the Lord of the universe delighted Rukmiṇī with affectionate words, playfully imitating the ways of ordinary humans. In the same manner, Lord Hari, the all-pervading teacher of the world, resided in each of His wives’ homes, upholding the duties of a householder as if He were an ordinary householder Himself. Then, each of Krishna’s wives bore ten sons, each equal in strength and valor, and a ninth son as well—all bearing their father’s qualities. Though Krishna never left home, He was present in each of their houses, and the royal princesses considered Him their dearest, though they did not truly know His divine nature. With faces like blooming lotuses, long arms and eyes, with loving glances and sweet words, Krishna enchanted the women. Their own charms were powerless before His majesty; they could not control their minds in His presence. With smiling glances, gestures revealing His inner feelings, and skillful, love-filled words sent with the movement of His brows, the sixteen thousand wives could not disturb His senses with their feminine arts, though they tried with the arrows of Cupid. Having attained the Lord of Lakṣmī as their husband, these women—whose path even Brahmā and the others do not know—joyfully served Him with unceasing affection, always eager for His smile, glance, touch, and embrace. Hundreds of maidservants attended the Lord, performing all the household duties: welcoming Him, offering seats, washing His feet, providing betel, arranging for His rest, fanning Him, bringing fragrant garlands, arranging His hair, preparing His bed, bathing Him, and making other offerings. Of Krishna’s wives, the foremost among their ten sons were the eight principal queens. Śuka began to name their sons, starting with Pradyumna. Rukmiṇī’s sons were Pradyumna, Charudeṣṇa, Sudeṣṇa, Charudeha the mighty, Suchāru, Charugupta, Bhadracāru, Charucandra, Vichāru, and Charu—all not inferior to their father. Satyabhāmā’s sons were Bhānu, Subhānu, Svarbhānu, Prabhānu, Bhānumān, Chandra Bhānu, Bṛhadbhānu, Ratibhānu, Śrībhānu, and Pratibhānu. Jāmbavatī’s sons, headed by Sāmba, were Sāmba, Sumitra, Purujit, Shatajita, Sahasrajit, Vijaya, Citraketu, Vasumān, Draviḍa, and Kratu. Nāgnajit’s sons were Vīra Chandra, Ashvasena, Citragu, Vegavān, Vṛṣa, Āma, Shaṅku, Vasu, Śrīmān, and Kuntir. Kālindī’s sons were Śruta, Kavi, Vṛṣa, Vīra, Subāhu, Bhadra, Ekala, Śānti, Darśa, and Pūrṇamāsa, with Somaka as the youngest. Mādrī’s sons were Praghoṣa, Gātravān, Siṃha, Bala, Prabala, Ūrdhvaga, Mahāśakti, Saha, Oja, and Aparājita. Mitravinda’s sons were Vṛka, Harṣa, Anila, Gṛdhra, Vardhana, Annāda, Mahāśa, Pāvana, Vahni, and Kṣudhi. Bhadrā’s sons were Saṅgrāmajit, Bṛhatsena, Śūra, Praharaṇa, Arijit, Jaya, Subhadra, Vāmāyu, and Satyaka. Rohiṇī’s sons were Dīptimān, Tāmra, Taptā, and others. From Pradyumna was born Aniruddha, by Rukmavatī, the mighty daughter of Rukmi, in the city of Bhojakaṭa. Their sons and grandsons numbered in the tens of millions, O King, and the mothers of Krishna’s children were sixteen thousand in number. Thus, the Lord’s household was filled with joy, prosperity, and the unending devotion of His queens and children.