Seated upon a golden throne, resplendent like Indra himself and surrounded by the fullness of royal prosperity, Duryodhana was honored by bards who sang his praises. He sat proudly, encircled by his brothers, wearing a crown upon his head and a garland around his neck. Yet his mood was troubled; gripping a sword in his hand, he cast it down in anger. In his agitation, Duryodhana reached for what he thought was water upon the floor, but his hand closed only on the edge of a garment—it was dry. When he stepped into water, he mistook it for solid ground. Thus bewildered by Maya’s illusion, he became the object of confusion and ridicule. Bhima, witnessing these mishaps, could not restrain his laughter, and the women and assembled kings joined in, their mirth ringing through the hall. Though the king tried to quiet them, Krishna looked on approvingly, allowing their laughter to continue. Ashamed and his face downcast, Duryodhana left in silence, his heart burning with anger as he departed for Gajaha. A cry of “Alas!” arose among the virtuous, and Ajatasatru’s mind was disturbed by the incident. The Blessed Lord, Krishna, remained silent, his gaze wandering, for he knew the burden that the earth still bore and wished to relieve it. O King, thus have I recounted to you 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 as I tell you of another wondrous deed of Krishna—how the playful, bodyless Lord slew the lord of Saubha. Shalva, a friend of Shishupala, had come to Rukmini’s wedding, but he and his allies, including Jarasandha, were defeated in battle by the powerful Yadus. Humiliated, Shalva declared before all the assembled kings, “I will rid the earth of the Yadavas—witness my valor!” To fulfill this reckless vow, he worshipped the Lord, the master of all creatures, by swallowing a handful of dust in a single act of penance. After a year had passed, the gracious Lord—Shiva, the husband of Uma—being easily pleased, offered Shalva a boon, for the king had come to him for refuge. Shalva asked for a vehicle that would strike terror into the Vrishnis, that could travel anywhere at will, and that could not be destroyed by gods, demons, humans, Gandharvas, serpents, or Rakshasas. “So be it,” said Girisha, and at his command, Maya—the conqueror of enemy cities—constructed an iron city called Saubha and gave it to Shalva. Armed with this formidable, wish-fulfilling, and impenetrable vehicle, Shalva set out for Dvaravati, his mind fixed on vengeance against the Vrishnis. O best of the Bharatas, Shalva besieged the city with his vast army, laying waste to its suburbs and gardens. The city’s gates and towers, palaces, balconies, pleasure grounds, and lofty mansions were all assaulted by relentless showers of weapons. Stones, trees, thunderbolts, serpents, and gravel rained down, and a fierce whirlwind arose, filling the air with choking dust. As Krishna’s city suffered under the assault of Saubha, it knew no peace, just as the earth had known no peace when attacked by Tripura. Witnessing his people’s suffering, the glorious and heroic Pradyumna mounted his chariot and called out to reassure them: “Do not fear!” He was joined by Satyaki, Charudeshna, Samba, Akrura and his younger brother, Hardikya, Bhanuvinda, Gada, Shuka, Sarana, and other mighty archers and commanders. Together, they emerged from the city, armed and protected, leading chariots, elephants, horses, and infantry. A tumultuous and hair-raising battle erupted between the forces of Shalva and the Yadus, reminiscent of the ancient wars between gods and demons. Pradyumna, the son of Rukmini, wielding divine weapons, swiftly destroyed all of the magical illusions conjured by the lord of Saubha, just as the sun dispels the darkness of night. With twenty-five arrows tipped with iron and joined with gold, he struck Shalva’s army commander. Then, with a hundred arrows, he battered Shalva himself; with single arrows, he targeted the soldiers; with ten arrows each, he struck their leaders; and with three arrows each, he targeted their vehicles. All who witnessed this mighty feat—friend and foe alike—honored the great-souled Pradyumna. Yet, the creation of Maya, wrought from illusion, confounded the senses: it appeared in many forms and in one, was visible and invisible, impossible for the enemy to comprehend. At times it stood on the ground, at times soared in the sky, sometimes appeared on mountain peaks, sometimes in water; the Saubha city spun wildly, like a wheel of firebrands. Wherever Shalva, his Saubha, and his army appeared, the chiefs of the Sātvatas released their arrows. Afflicted by these blazing missiles, as deadly as venomous serpents, Shalva’s forces grew bewildered and scattered. Despite being tormented by the torrents of weapons from Shalva’s army, the heroic Vrishnis did not abandon the fight, each determined to conquer both worlds. In the thick of battle, Dyumān, a minister of Shalva who had previously overpowered Pradyumna, approached with a heavy mace. Striking Pradyumna with a mighty blow, he roared triumphantly. Pradyumna, his chest shattered by the mace, fell unconscious and was swiftly carried away from the battlefield by his charioteer, the righteous son of Dāruka. After a short time, Pradyumna regained consciousness and rebuked his charioteer: “Ah, how improper it is, O charioteer, that you have withdrawn me from the battle! Never has it been heard that one born in the Yadu dynasty has left the battlefield—except for a charioteer whose mind is unmanly and who has incurred sin. What shall I say when I approach my fathers, Rama and Kesava, having retreated from battle? When questioned there, what answer will be fitting for me? Surely, my brothers’ wives will mock me, saying, ‘How, how did your cowardice, O hero, become known to others in battle?’” The charioteer replied respectfully, “O lord, knowing righteousness, I did this. A charioteer must protect a warrior in distress, and a warrior must protect his charioteer. Understanding this, my lord, I withdrew you from the battle, for you had been struck down by the enemy and had fallen unconscious.” Thus, the story unfolds, revealing both the pride and the humbling of kings, and the valor and devotion of the Yadus in the face of mighty adversaries.