The festivities of the Rajasuya sacrifice unfolded with great splendor. The women, their bodies anointed with oil, cow’s ghee, fragrant powders, turmeric, and rich saffron, delighted in playful revelry, laughing and mingling with the men. Protected by their husbands, the queens slipped out, unnoticed and radiant, like celestial ladies in heavenly chariots. As their mothers and friends sprinkled them with water, their faces glowed with bashful smiles. Together with their companions, the queens joyfully sprinkled offerings for the gods. Their fine garments, now drenched, clung to their bodies, exposing their forms and loosened garlands. Their carefree play enchanted all, stirring the hearts of those whose minds were not pure. Amidst this jubilant scene, the emperor himself shone resplendent. Mounted on a chariot drawn by noble horses and adorned with gold, he stood among his wives like the lord of a great sacrifice amidst its sacred rites. After the ritual bath with his queens, the officiating priests, having purified themselves, bathed the king in the holy waters of the Ganges, together with Krishna. Heavenly drums thundered in harmony with those of men, while gods, sages, ancestors, and mortals showered flowers from above. People of every class and stage of life bathed there, for even those burdened with grave sins were instantly freed from impurity at that sacred moment. Clad in fine silk and splendidly adorned, King Yudhishthira honored the priests, sages, and brahmins with precious ornaments and garments. Devoted to Narayana, he repeatedly paid respects to his relatives, acquaintances, kings, friends, and all assembled guests. The entire assembly radiated divine brilliance: men wore jeweled earrings, garlands, turbans, jackets, fine cloth, and precious necklaces; the women, adorned with pairs of earrings, clusters of bangles, and shining golden girdles, dazzled with their beauty. The officiating priests, sages, and learned brahmins gathered there, joined by kings from every class—brahmin, kshatriya, vaishya, and shudra. The gods, sages, ancestors, spirits, and guardians of the worlds, along with their attendants, having been duly honored, gave their blessings and returned to their respective abodes. The royal sages could not tire of praising Haridasa’s magnificent Rajasuya sacrifice, just as mortals never tire of drinking nectar. At the close of the great event, King Yudhishthira affectionately bid farewell to his friends, relatives, and kinsmen, lingering with reluctance as he parted from Krishna. The Blessed Lord, ever the joy of his devotees, remained for a time in Hastinapura, after sending the Yadu heroes—Samba and others—back to their city of Kusasthali. Thus, with Krishna’s grace, Yudhishthira, the son of Dharma, crossed the vast ocean of his cherished desires, so difficult to traverse, and became free from distress. Yet, in the midst of this glory, Duryodhana beheld the dazzling splendor of the palace and felt tormented by the grandeur of the Rajasuya and the glory of Lord Achyuta. In that palace, where the wealth of kings, demons, and gods—arranged by the Creator—shone forth, Krishna stood beside Draupadi, the daughter of Drupada, and Duryodhana’s heart was ensnared and troubled. Nearby, a thousand queens of Krishna, their hips full and anklets softly tinkling, surrounded the Lord’s radiant face, adorned with crimson necklaces, beautiful earrings, and flowing locks. In the great assembly hall built by Maya, Emperor Yudhishthira sat among his followers and kinsmen, with Krishna himself watching all. Seated on a golden throne like Indra, endowed with supreme prosperity, Yudhishthira was praised by bards. Duryodhana, proud and surrounded by his brothers, sat nearby with a crown and garland, sword in hand, but his mood was dark. Confused by Maya’s illusions, he reached for the edge of a garment on the floor, thinking it was water, only to find it dry; then he mistook water for solid ground and stumbled. Bhima laughed aloud at Duryodhana’s confusion, as did the women and other kings. Though Yudhishthira tried to restrain them, Krishna smiled approvingly at their laughter. Ashamed, his face downcast and burning with anger, Duryodhana left silently for Gajaha. A great cry of “Alas!” arose among the virtuous, and Yudhishthira was troubled in mind. The Blessed Lord remained silent, watching with roaming eyes, intent on relieving the earth’s burden. O King, thus have I told you of the wickedness of Suyodhana at the great Rajasuya sacrifice. Here ends the seventy-fifth chapter, called "The Humbling of Duryodhana’s Pride," in the tenth canto, second half, of the glorious Bhagavata Purana, the scripture of the supreme swans. Now, O King, listen to another wondrous deed of Krishna—how the playful, bodyless Lord slew the lord of Saubha. Shalva, friend of Shishupala, had come to Rukmini’s wedding, but he and his allies, including Jarasandha, were defeated by the Yadus. There, before all the assembled kings, Shalva made a rash vow: “I will rid the earth of the Yadavas—witness my valor!” Having made this foolish promise, he worshiped Lord Shiva, the master of creatures, by swallowing a handful of dust—a sign of his resolve. At the end of a year, the gracious Lord Shiva, easily pleased, offered Shalva a boon. Shalva asked for a vehicle, terrifying to the Vrishnis, that could move anywhere at will and could not be destroyed by gods, demons, humans, Gandharvas, serpents, or Rakshasas. “So be it,” said Shiva. Following his instructions, Maya, the conqueror of enemy cities, constructed an iron city called Saubha and gave it to Shalva. Armed with this wish-fulfilling, formidable, and impenetrable vehicle, Shalva set out for Dvaraka, still burning with enmity toward the Vrishnis. O best of the Bharatas, Shalva besieged Dvaraka with a great army, laying waste to its suburbs and gardens. The city’s gates and towers, palaces, balconies, pleasure grounds, and lofty mansions were all battered by showers of weapons. Stones, trees, thunderbolts, serpents, and gravel rained down, and a furious whirlwind arose, filling the air with choking dust. Thus, as Krishna’s beloved city was tormented by Saubha, it knew no peace—just as the earth had suffered when attacked by Tripura. Seeing his people afflicted, the glorious and heroic Pradyumna mounted his chariot and called out, “Do not fear!”—ready to defend the city and its people.