Bhagavata Purana

Is not Ugrasena, the mighty lord and ruler of the Bhojas, Vṛṣṇis, and Andhakas, honored by even Indra and the other guardians of the worlds? Who could question his worthiness to rule, he who has entered the divine Sudharmā assembly and brought the celestial Pārijāta tree from the realm of the immortals for all to enjoy? At his feet, the goddess Śrī herself directly serves—the sovereign of all prosperity. Can anyone doubt that he deserves royal honors and the full regalia of kingship? Indeed, the dust of his lotus feet is cherished by the crowns of all the guardians of the worlds, revered as the holiest of holy places. Brahmā, Śiva, and even I am but a fragment of his fragment, while Śrī herself has served him for countless ages—where, then, is the royal seat that could truly honor him? The Vṛṣṇis now dwell upon the land granted by the Kurus, and we ourselves are as shoes, while the Kurus are the crown upon the head. Yet, who can instruct or endure those intoxicated by wealth, whose words become harsh and incoherent, like the speech of the proud and drunken? Once, in anger, Balarāma declared, “Today I will rid the earth of the Kauravas!” Seizing his mighty plough, he rose up, as if to set ablaze the three worlds. With the tip of his plough, he tore open the city of Hastinapura and, inflamed with fury, began to drag it toward the Ganga, intent on destruction. As the city was pulled and spun within the river’s current like a boat caught in a whirlpool, the Kauravas, witnessing their capital being dragged away, were seized with terror. Desperate to save themselves, the Kauravas, along with their families, approached Balarāma for refuge. Placing Lakshmana and Samba at the front, they bowed with joined palms before the Lord, pleading, “O Rama, foundation of all, we do not know your power. Please forgive our offense, for we are foolish and misguided. You alone are the independent cause of creation, maintenance, and dissolution. The wise say the worlds are your playthings, and you delight in them. O endless one, you bear the earth upon your thousand heads, playfully supporting it on your crown; and when the universe is withdrawn, you alone remain, unique and unsurpassed. “O Lord, your anger serves as a lesson for all beings, not out of hatred or envy; you uphold sattva and ever protect existence. Salutations to you, soul of all beings, bearer of all powers, imperishable one; creator of the universe, we bow to you and seek refuge in you.” Śuka continued: Hearing their sincere prayers, Balarāma was pleased. Seeing them distressed and trembling, he became fully satisfied and granted them fearlessness, saying, “Do not be afraid.” In gratitude, Duryodhana offered as tribute sixty-year-old elephants and twelve thousand horses, along with six thousand golden chariots shining like the sun, and a thousand maidservants without necklaces, fond of offering daughters in service. Accepting these gifts, the Lord, foremost among the Sātvatas, departed with his son and daughter-in-law, honored by his friends. Halāyudha, Balarāma, returned to his own city, his heart full of affection for his relatives, and in the assembly of the Yadus, he recounted all that had transpired among the Kurus. Even today, that city, bearing the mark of Rama’s might, stands elevated to the south of the Ganga, visible to all. Thus concludes the sixty-eighth chapter, “The Victory of Sankarshana in the Form of Dragging Hastinapura,” from the Uttara section of the Tenth Book of the glorious Bhagavata Purana. Turning now to the Lord’s household conduct, as witnessed by the sage Nārada—Śuka said: Upon hearing that Naraka had been slain and that Krishna alone had married so many women, Nārada became eager to see this wonder for himself. How astonishing it was: with a single body, Krishna had simultaneously married eight thousand and two hundred women, each in her own home. Desiring to witness Dvārakā, the divine sage journeyed there. He found the city adorned with blooming gardens and parks, alive with the calls of flocks of birds and the chants of brahmins. The lakes were covered in fully blossomed blue lotuses, water lilies, day-blooming lotuses, and kumudas, filled with tall reeds and echoing with the calls of swans and cranes. The city itself was resplendent, boasting nine hundred thousand palaces made of crystal and silver, resembling great emeralds, and furnished with golden and jeweled decorations. Its avenues, streets, squares, and marketplaces were distinct and orderly. Beautiful halls and assembly chambers stood alongside celestial temples. The roads, courtyards, alleys, and thresholds were sprinkled with water, and flags and banners fluttered above, shielding the city from the sun. Within the splendid inner chambers, honored by all householders, Hari’s own artistry was fully displayed, as if crafted by Tvaṣṭṛ himself. Nārada entered one among the sixteen thousand beautifully adorned mansions, a grand residence belonging to one of Śauri’s wives. The palace rested on coral pillars, its floors made of the finest lapis lazuli, its walls of sapphire, and the ground shone with unmatched brilliance. Canopies crafted by Tvaṣṭṛ hung with strings of pearls, and seats and couches were adorned with the finest gems and ivory. The palace was decorated with maidservants in splendid garments but no necklaces, and men dressed in fine robes, with sashes, turbans, and jeweled earrings. The darkness was dispelled by the radiance of jeweled lamps. In the varied balconies, peacocks danced; incense and sacred offerings were arranged, and those of deep intellect sang loudly as they observed the sage’s arrival. There, among thousands of maidservants equal in qualities, beauty, youth, and attire, Nārada saw the queen herself, fanning the Lord of the Sātvatas with a golden-handled camara. Beholding the sage, the Blessed Lord, greatest among all upholders of dharma, immediately rose from his couch, bowed his crowned head to the sage’s feet, and, with joined palms, welcomed him to his own seat. He washed the sage’s feet and placed that water upon his own head, though he is the supreme teacher of the world and lord of the virtuous; indeed, the purity of his feet, known as Brahmaṇyadeva, is the ultimate holy place. Having honored the foremost of divine sages, the ancient ṛṣi Nārāyaṇa, friend of Nara, Krishna spoke to him with sweet, measured words, as prescribed by tradition: “O Lord, what may we do for you, O Blessed One?” Śrī Nārada replied, “It is not surprising in you, O master of all worlds, that you show friendship to all people and self-restraint toward the wicked. For the welfare of the world, you maintain and protect it through your free descents, O praised one, as we well know. Having seen your pair of feet, which grant liberation to people—contemplated in the hearts of Brahmā and others endowed with profound wisdom, and serving as a support for those fallen into the well of worldly existence—I wander, meditating. Grant me your grace, so that remembrance may ever arise within me.