Citralekhā, seeing her dear friend Uṣā so distraught, spoke with determination: “If misfortune is destined for you in all the three worlds, I shall remove it. Tell me, who is this enchanting one that has captivated your heart? I will bring him to you.” Having said this, Citralekhā began to draw, one by one, the forms of the gods, gandharvas, siddhas, charanas, serpents, demons, vidyadharas, yakshas, and all manner of humans, just as they appeared in the world. Among the humans, she depicted the noble Vrishnis, Shura, Anakadundubhi, and, as she drew the images of Pradyumna, and then Rāma and Krishna, she felt a gentle embarrassment. But when she drew the form of Aniruddha, her own face turned downward in modesty. Smiling, she pointed to the portrait and said to Uṣā, “That one! That one!” Understanding her friend's heart, Citralekhā, who was a powerful yogini and also the granddaughter of Krishna, rose into the sky and, by her yogic powers, traveled to Dvārakā, the city guarded by Krishna himself. There, she found Aniruddha, the son of Pradyumna, asleep on a splendid bed. Using her mystic abilities, she brought the slumbering Aniruddha all the way to Shonitapura, to present him before Uṣā. When Uṣā beheld that handsome hero, her face shone with joy, and she delighted in his company within her private chambers—a place difficult for others to enter. Aniruddha was honored with fine garments, fragrant garlands, perfumes, incense, lamps, comfortable seats, drinks, delicious food, and sweet words of service. Hidden away in the maiden’s palace and ever attended by Uṣā’s growing affection, Aniruddha, his senses wholly captivated by her, lost all sense of time’s passing. As Uṣā enjoyed the presence of this Yadu hero, the vows she had held were quietly broken. The palace guards, noticing subtle signs, discerned that their mistress was secretly delighted by a man’s company. They reported to King Bāṇa, “We have observed suspicious behavior in your daughter, which brings disgrace to the family. Though we guard her carefully, we do not know how she, who is so difficult to approach, has been defiled by a man.” Greatly troubled by this news, Bāṇa hurried to his daughter’s quarters and there beheld the Yadu prince. He saw Aniruddha, the very son of desire, the most beautiful in the world: dark-complexioned, clad in yellow garments, lotus-eyed, broad-armed, radiant with earrings and curling locks, his face adorned with smiling glances. The prince was playing dice with Uṣā, who was eager for him, her body adorned with a garland stained with the red kumkuma from her breasts, while he held a jasmine garland in his arms. Seeing the two seated together, Bāṇa was left astonished. But soon, the palace was surrounded by hostile guards and soldiers. Aniruddha, raising his club, stood ready like Death himself, intent on battle. Those who rushed upon him from all sides were struck down by Aniruddha, who fought like a mighty boar against a pack of dogs; the guards, their heads, thighs, and arms broken, fled in terror from the palace. Then, Bāṇa’s powerful son came forth and, using serpent bonds, managed to bind Aniruddha, who had been slaying the guards in his anger. Uṣā, seeing her beloved thus bound, was overwhelmed by grief and wept with tear-filled eyes. Thus ends the sixty-second chapter, “The Binding of Aniruddha,” in the tenth book of the Śrīmad Bhāgavatam. Śrī Śuka continued: O descendant of Bharata, while Aniruddha and his relatives remained unseen, four months passed, filled with unceasing grief for his family. At last, Nārada brought news of Aniruddha’s captivity and the events that had occurred. Upon hearing this, the Vṛṣṇis, for whom Krishna was their very deity, set out for Shonitapura. Pradyumna, Yuyudhāna, Gada, Sāmba, Sāraṇa, Nanda, Upananda, Bhadra, and other valiant followers of Rāma and Krishna, all departed together. With twelve divisions of troops, the foremost among the Sātvatas surrounded Bāṇa’s city on every side. Bāṇa, seeing his gardens, ramparts, towers, and gateways being destroyed, was seized by anger. Gathering an army equal to the Vṛṣṇis, he came out to fight. For Bāṇa’s sake, the blessed Lord Rudra himself, with his son and the Pramathas, mounted the bull Nandi and entered the battle against Rāma and Krishna. A tumultuous, wondrous, and hair-raising battle arose between Krishna and Śaṅkara (Shiva), and between Pradyumna and Guha (Kārtikeya). Kumbhāṇḍa and Kūpakarṇa fought with Balarāma; Sāmba fought with Bāṇa’s son, and Sātyaki with Bāṇa himself. Brahmā and the other gods, sages, perfected beings, celestial singers, nymphs, and yakṣas gathered in their aerial vehicles to witness the great battle. Krishna drove away the followers of Śaṅkara—spirits, pramathas, guhyakas, ḍākinīs, rākṣasas, and vināyakas—as well as pretas, mātṛs, piśācas, kuṣmāṇḍas, and brahmarākṣasas, with his sharp arrows fired from the Śārṅga bow. The wielder of Pināka (Shiva) launched many kinds of weapons at Krishna, but Krishna, undisturbed, countered each with his own weapons: Brahmāstra with Brahmāstra, Vāyavya with Pārvatāstra, Āgneya with Pārjanya, and Pāśupata with his own mighty weapon. Then, bewildering Giriśa (Shiva) with the Jṛmbhaṇa weapon, Krishna struck down Bāṇa’s army with sword, mace, and arrows. Skanda (Kārtikeya), assailed on all sides by Pradyumna’s torrents of arrows, was wounded and withdrew from the battle, his peacock banner trailing behind. Kumbhāṇḍa and Kūpakarṇa, struck down by Balarāma’s plough, fell, and their leaderless troops scattered in all directions. Seeing his own forces shattered, Bāṇa, burning with rage, abandoned Sātyaki and charged at Krishna in the midst of battle. Drawing his bows all at once, Bāṇa, mad with the fury of war, set two arrows on each of five hundred shafts. But Lord Hari (Krishna) simultaneously cut down all those bows, killed Bāṇa’s charioteer, destroyed his chariot and horses, and then sounded his conch shell. At that moment, Bāṇa’s mother, Koṭarā, appeared before Krishna—naked, with disheveled hair—seeking to protect her son’s life. Out of respect, Krishna turned his face aside, not looking at the naked woman, and Bāṇa, now without a chariot and his bow broken, retreated into the city.