Duryodhana, proud and resplendent, sat among his brothers, his head adorned with a crown and garland. Gripping a sword in his hand, he cast it down in anger, his heart inflamed. In his agitation, he reached for what he thought was water on the floor, grasping the edge of a garment instead, for it was dry. Then, when he turned to the water, he mistook it for solid ground. Thus bewildered by the power of Maya’s illusion, he floundered, unable to distinguish reality. At this, Bhima burst into laughter, and so too did the women and other assembled kings. Though the king sought to restrain their mirth, Krishna, the Lord Himself, smiled in approval at their laughter. Overcome with shame, Duryodhana lowered his face, his heart burning with anger, and left the assembly in silence, making his way towards Gajaha. A great cry of “Alas!” arose among the virtuous, and Ajatasatru, Yudhishthira, was troubled in mind. Yet Krishna, the Blessed Lord, remained silent, His gaze wandering, intent on relieving the earth of its burden. O King, thus have I related to you the misdeeds of Suyodhana at the great Rajasuya sacrifice. Here ends the seventy-fifth chapter, “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. Hear how the playful, bodyless Lord slew the lord of Saubha. Shalva, a friend of Shishupala, had come to the wedding of Rukmini. There, he was defeated in battle by the Yadus, as were Jarasandha and many others. Stung by defeat, Shalva made a bold vow before all the assembled kings: “I will rid the earth of the Yadavas—witness my valor!” Having made such a rash promise, he worshipped the Lord of all creatures, demonstrating his resolve by swallowing a handful of dust as an offering. After a year’s penance, the gracious Lord—Shiva, the husband of Uma—was pleased and offered Shalva a boon. Shalva asked for a vehicle, terrifying to the Vrishnis, that could travel anywhere at will and could not be destroyed by gods, demons, humans, Gandharvas, serpents, or Rakshasas. “So be it,” said Girisha, and at his command, Maya, the master of illusion, constructed a formidable iron city, Saubha, and gave it to Shalva. Now armed with this wish-fulfilling, impenetrable flying city, Shalva set out for Dvaravati, his heart burning with enmity toward the Vrishnis. O best of the Bharatas, Shalva besieged the city with his vast army, destroying the suburbs and gardens. The gates and their towers, the palaces, balconies, pleasure grounds, and lofty mansions—all were battered by showers of weapons. Stones, trees, thunderbolts, serpents, and gravel rained down, and a fierce whirlwind arose, filling the air with dust. Thus was Krishna’s city severely harassed by Saubha, finding no peace, just as the earth once suffered under the attack of Tripura. Seeing his people afflicted, the glorious and heroic Pradyumna mounted his chariot, reassuring all: “Do not fear!” Alongside him went Satyaki, Charudeshna, Samba, Akrura and his younger brother, Hardikya, Bhanuvinda, Gada, Shuka, Sarana, and many other great archers and commanders, all well-armed and accompanied by chariots, elephants, horses, and infantry. A tumultuous, hair-raising battle began between Shalva’s forces and the Yadus, as fierce as the battles of gods and demons. Pradyumna, son of Rukmini, wielded divine weapons, destroying in a moment all the magical illusions conjured by the lord of Saubha, just as the sun dispels the darkness of night. With twenty-five well-made arrows, their shafts golden and tips of iron, he struck the commander of Shalva’s army. A hundred arrows he sent at Shalva himself, single arrows at his soldiers, ten at each of their leaders, and three at each of their vehicles. All present—friend and foe alike—marveled at the wondrous and mighty deeds of the great-souled Pradyumna. The illusion-wrought city of Saubha appeared in many forms and also in one, sometimes visible, sometimes not, confounding the enemy’s understanding. At times it was on the ground, at times in the sky, on mountain peaks, or in the water. That city, in its dire state, spun about like a wheel of firebrands. Wherever Shalva, his Saubha, and his army appeared, the chiefs of the Sātvatas loosed their arrows. Afflicted by these missiles, blazing like fire and the sun, and as deadly as venomous serpents, Shalva’s forces became bewildered and driven back. Yet, though greatly tormented by the torrents of weapons from Shalva’s army, the heroic Vrishnis did not abandon the battle, each intent on victory in both worlds. Then Dyuman, a minister of Shalva, who had previously overpowered Pradyumna, approached with a heavy mace and struck him, roaring mightily. Pradyumna, the subduer of enemies, his chest shattered by the blow, was carried from the battlefield by his charioteer, the righteous son of Daruka. After a moment, Pradyumna regained consciousness and spoke to 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—save for a charioteer whose mind is unmanly and who incurs sin. What will I say when I stand before my fathers, Rama and Keshava, having retreated from battle? What answer shall I give when questioned? Surely, the wives of my brothers will mock me, laughing: ‘How, how did your cowardice, O hero, become known to others in battle?’” The charioteer replied, “O lord, knowing righteousness, I did this; a charioteer must protect a warrior in distress, and a warrior his charioteer. Knowing this, my lord, I withdrew you from the battle, for you had been struck down and lay unconscious, attacked by the enemy’s mace.” Here ends the seventy-sixth chapter, “The Battle with Shalva,” in the tenth book, second half, of the Srimad Bhagavata Mahapurana, the scripture for the paramahamsas.