The assembly stood in awe before Balarāma, their hearts heavy with fear and remorse. They bowed low and addressed him with trembling voices, saying, “O Rāma, foundation of all, your power is beyond our understanding. We have acted foolishly, misguided by ignorance—please forgive our offense.” With reverence, they continued, “You alone are the independent cause of creation, maintenance, and dissolution. O Lord, the wise declare that the worlds are but your playthings, and you delight in their sport. O endless one, you support the earth upon your thousand mighty heads, bearing it playfully on your crown. And at the end, when the universe returns into yourself, you alone remain—unique, unsurpassed, and eternal. “O Lord, your anger is never born of hatred or envy; it arises only to instruct the universe. Upholding sattva, you are always intent on protecting all beings. Salutations to you, soul of all, bearer of all powers, imperishable one! Creator of the universe, we bow down and take refuge in you.” Śuka then narrated that, seeing their distress and humility, Balarāma was pleased. His anger abated, he granted them fearlessness with gentle words: “Do not be afraid.” In gratitude and honor, Duryodhana presented lavish tributes: sixty-year-old elephants, twelve thousand horses, six thousand golden chariots shining like the sun, and a thousand maidservants. These maidservants, though without necklaces, were cherished by Duryodhana, who delighted in daughters. Balarāma, the foremost of the Sātvatas, accepted these offerings. With his son and daughter-in-law, he departed, honored and escorted by his friends. Returning to his own city, Halāyudha entered with a heart full of affection for his kinsmen. In the assembly of the Yadus, he recounted all that had transpired among the Kurus. To this day, Śuka declared, that city stands to the south of the Ganga, bearing the mark of Rāma’s might, elevated and visible to all. Thus ends the chapter entitled “The Victory of Sankarṣaṇa in the Form of Dragging Hastināpura,” in the glorious Bhāgavata Purāṇa. Śuka continued: Now, O King, hear of the Lord’s household conduct. The divine sage Nārada, having heard that Naraka was slain and that Kṛṣṇa had wedded many women, was filled with wonder and wished to see for himself. How astonishing it was, he thought, that with a single body, Kṛṣṇa had simultaneously married eight thousand and two hundred women, each in her own home. Eager to witness the marvel of Dvārakā, Nārada journeyed there. He found the city resplendent with blooming gardens and parks, alive with the songs of birds and the chanting of brāhmaṇas. The lakes sparkled with fully blossomed blue lotuses, water lilies, day-blooming lotuses, and kumudas; tall reeds swayed, and the waters echoed with the calls of swans and cranes. Within Dvārakā stood nine hundred thousand palaces of crystal and silver, glimmering like vast emeralds, adorned with gold and jewels. The city’s avenues, streets, squares, and marketplaces were distinct and orderly. Beautiful assembly halls and celestial temples stood tall; the roads, courtyards, alleys, and thresholds were sprinkled with water, and flags and banners shielded the city from the sun. Inside, the splendid inner chambers were honored by all householders. There, the Lord’s own skill shone forth, as if the divine architect Tvaṣṭṛ himself had crafted them. Nārada entered one among the sixteen thousand beautifully adorned mansions, the grand residence of one of Śauri’s wives. He marveled at the palace: coral pillars supported its structure, the floors were of the finest lapis lazuli, the walls of sapphire, and the ground shone with unmatched brilliance. Canopies made by Tvaṣṭṛ hung with strings of pearls, and seats and couches sparkled with gems and ivory. Maidservants in splendid garments, though without necklaces, attended, and men in fine robes, sashes, turbans, and jeweled earrings moved about. Jeweled lamps dispelled all darkness. On the balconies, peacocks danced; incense and sacred offerings filled the air, and those of deep intellect sang as they watched for guests’ arrival. There, among thousands of exquisitely adorned maidservants, the sage saw the queen herself, fanning the Lord of the Sātvatas with a golden-handled camara. Beholding Nārada, the Blessed Lord—greatest upholder of dharma—immediately rose from his couch, bowed his crowned head at the sage’s feet, and, with joined palms, welcomed him to his own seat. He washed the sage’s feet and placed that holy water upon his own head, though he is the supreme teacher of the world and lord of the virtuous. For the purity of the sage’s feet, known as Brahmaṇyadeva, is the ultimate holy place. Having honored the foremost of divine sages, the ancient ṛṣi Nārāyaṇa, friend of Nara, spoke with gentle words as tradition prescribes: “O Lord, what may we do for you, O Blessed One?” Śrī Nārada replied, “O master of all worlds, it is not surprising that you show friendship to all and self-restraint toward the wicked. For the welfare of the world, you descend freely and protect all beings, as we well know, O praised one. Having seen your feet—which grant liberation, are contemplated by Brahmā and the wise, and support those fallen into worldly existence—I wander, meditating. Grant me your grace, so that remembrance may arise within me.” On another day, Nārada entered the house of another wife of Kṛṣṇa, desiring to witness the yoga-māyā of the lord of yogis. There, Kṛṣṇa was playing dice with his beloved and Uddhava. When Nārada entered, he was received with the highest devotion—by rising, offering a seat, and other acts. Kṛṣṇa then inquired, as if unaware, “When did you arrive, O Lord? What could those like us, who are incomplete, do for those who are complete?” He asked Nārada to tell of his beautiful birth, but the sage, astonished, silently rose and went to another house. There, too, he saw Govinda delighting his young sons. In another house, he saw him preparing for his bath. Elsewhere, he saw him offering oblations into sacrificial fires, performing sacrifices with five kinds of rituals, feeding brāhmaṇas in some places, and in others, partaking of the remnants. In some places, Kṛṣṇa was seated at twilight, reciting the Veda with controlled speech; in others, he walked the paths of archers, sword and shield in hand. Sometimes he traveled with horses, elephants, and chariots, accompanied by Balarāma; elsewhere, he reclined on a couch, praised by bards. In some homes, he was consulting with ministers like Uddhava; elsewhere, he enjoyed water sports, surrounded by the foremost women of the palace. In some places, he gave well-adorned cows to eminent brāhmaṇas; in others, he listened to auspicious histories and Purāṇas. Thus, Nārada beheld with wonder the Lord’s unfathomable yoga-māyā—how, in each home, Kṛṣṇa was perfectly present, engaged in the duties of an ideal householder, while ever remaining the Supreme.