O King, in days gone by, the powerful son of Kritavarma wed the daughter of Rukmini—a maiden famed for her wide, beautiful eyes and radiant charm. Meanwhile, Rukmi, despite a longstanding feud, gave his granddaughter Rocana in marriage to Aniruddha, the grandson of Hari. Though he knew the union was improper, Rukmi was compelled by affection for his sister Rukmini and wished to please her. At this auspicious wedding, Rukmini, Rama, Krishna, Samba, Pradyumna, and others journeyed to the city of Bhojakat. When the ceremony was complete, the assembled kings, led by the proud and arrogant ruler of Kalinga, challenged Rukmi to defeat Balarama in a game of dice. Balarama, though not skilled in dice, was addressed thus: “This one does not know dice, O King, yet the loss is great.” Summoned to play, Balarama faced Rukmi. Rama staked a hundred coins, then a thousand, then ten thousand; Rukmi defeated him, and the king of Kalinga laughed at Balarama, baring his teeth loudly—a gesture Halayudha could not tolerate. Next, Rukmi staked a hundred thousand coins. This time, Balarama won, but Rukmi, relying on deceit, falsely declared, “I have won.” Filled with wrath, glorious Balarama—his eyes red from birth and anger, like the swelling ocean—staked ten million coins. Again, Balarama won by fair means, yet Rukmi, resorting to trickery, insisted, “I have won; let the witnesses declare it.” At that moment, a voice from the sky proclaimed, “The wager was won by Balarama alone; Rukmi speaks falsely, claiming victory by words, not by righteousness.” Ignoring this heavenly pronouncement, the Vidarbha king, goaded by wicked rulers and fate, mocked Sankarshana and spoke derisively: “You are not skilled in dice, you cowherds who wander the forests; kings play dice and shoot arrows, not men like you.” Thus insulted and mocked, Balarama, enraged, raised his club and struck Rukmi in the assembly. Swiftly seizing the king of Kalinga by his tenth step, Balarama knocked out his teeth—the same king who had laughed with exposed teeth. The other kings, their arms, thighs, and heads broken and bloodied, fled in terror, battered by Balarama’s club. When Rukmi, his brother-in-law, was slain, Hari—fearful of the rupture between Rukmini and Balarama—neither praised nor condemned the act. Then, placing Aniruddha and his bride upon a splendid chariot, Rama and the Dasharhas departed from Bhojakat for Kushasthali, their purposes fulfilled under the shelter of Madhusudana. Afterward, the king inquired: “The foremost of the Yadus married Bāṇa’s daughter Ūṣā. There was a terrible battle between Hari and Śaṅkara at that time. O great yogi, you are worthy to recount all of this in detail.” Śuka replied: Bāṇa was the eldest among the hundred sons of the great soul Bali—the same Bali who gave the earth to Hari in the form of Vāmana. Bāṇa himself was always devoted to Śiva, honored, generous, intelligent, steadfast in truth, and firm in his vows. He ruled as king in the beautiful city of Śoṇita, blessed by Śambhu, whose attendants were like immortals. With his thousand arms, Bāṇa pleased Rudra by playing music during the Tāṇḍava dance. The Lord, master of all beings and refuge of devotees, offered him a boon of his choice. Bāṇa chose Śiva as protector of his city. Once, intoxicated by his own strength, Bāṇa approached Giriśa, touched his lotus feet with a crown shining like the sun, and said, “I bow to you, Mahādeva, guru and lord of the worlds, fulfiller of wishes, whose feet are worshipped by immortals. You have granted me a thousand arms, but they have become a great burden. In all the three worlds, I find none equal to fight except you. Longing for battle, I scratched myself with my restrained arms and fought the elephants of the directions, crushing mountains, but even they fled in fear.” Hearing this, the Lord, enraged, replied, “When your flag is broken, O fool, then you will find an opponent equal to you in battle who will humble your pride.” Thus addressed, the misguided Bāṇa, delighted, returned home, foolishly awaiting Giriśa’s command and the destruction of his own strength. Bāṇa had a daughter named Ūṣā, who, in a dream, experienced union with Pradyumna’s son—a handsome youth she had never seen or heard of before. Not finding him beside her, Ūṣā rose among her friends, agitated and deeply embarrassed, calling out, “Where are you, beloved?” Bāṇa’s minister was Kumbhāṇḍa, whose daughter Citralekhā was Ūṣā’s friend. Out of curiosity, Citralekhā questioned Ūṣā among their companions: “Whom are you seeking, O beautiful-browed one? What kind of man fills your thoughts? Princess, I have not yet seen anyone take your hand.” Ūṣā replied, “I saw a man in my dream—dark, lotus-eyed, clad in yellow, with great arms—who captivates the hearts of women. I seek that beloved, who made me drink nectar from his lips, but then, desiring me, vanished, casting me into an ocean of sorrow.” Citralekhā said, “If your misfortune is destined in the three worlds, I will remove it. Tell me who this enchanting one is, and I will bring him to you.” Having spoken, she drew the forms of gods, gandharvas, siddhas, charanas, serpents, demons, vidyadharas, yakshas, and humans as they appeared. Among the humans, she depicted the Vrishnis, Shura, Anakadundubhi, and, seeing Pradyumna, became embarrassed while drawing Rama and Krishna. When she saw Aniruddha drawn, Ūṣā turned her face downward in modesty; smiling, she said to Citralekhā, “That one, that one.” Understanding this, Citralekhā, the yogini and granddaughter of Krishna, departed through the sky to Dvaraka, protected by Krishna. There, using her yogic powers, she took Pradyumna’s son, Aniruddha, who was sleeping on a fine bed, and brought him to Shonitapura to show her friend.