The sage began: Thus, the noble ladies of the Andhaka and Kaurava dynasties gathered together, united by their love and reverence for Krishna—the crown jewel among the illustrious. In their assembly, they joyfully recounted to one another the glorious stories of Govinda, tales celebrated throughout the three worlds. Listen, for I will now describe their words. Draupadī, radiant and curious, addressed the assembled queens: “O Vaidarbhī, Bhadrā, Jāmbavatī, Kauśalā, Satyabhāmā, Kālindī, Śaibyā, Rohiṇī, Lakṣmaṇā—O beloved wives of Krishna—please tell us: by what wondrous means did the Lord Himself marry each of you, adopting the ways of the world through His divine power?” First, Rukmiṇī, the chief queen, spoke: “When mighty warriors, bows drawn, sought to give me to the king of Cedi, Krishna came. The dust of His feet crowned the heads of the king’s own soldiers. Like a lion claiming his rightful share from a herd of goats, He swept me away. May I always worship the feet of that Lord, the very abode of Śrī.” Satyabhāmā then shared: “To free me from a curse cast by my co-wife, Krishna vanquished the king of the earth and brought the precious jewel. He struck fear into my father and others, and though I had been given to another, He claimed me as His own.” Jāmbavatī recalled: “Knowing Him to be the creator of all bodies and my destined Lord, He—husband of Sītā in a former age—fought my father for twenty-one days. Recognizing His true nature, my father offered me to Him, and with the jewel in hand, I became His servant, clasping His lotus feet.” Kālindī added: “Desiring only to touch His feet, I performed austerities. Krishna, as a friend, approached, took my hand, and from that moment, I became the humble sweeper of His house.” Mitravindā spoke: “He came to my svayaṃvara, where He defeated all the assembled kings and, like a mighty elephant claiming his mate, carried me away. He drove off my brothers and brought me to His city, the dwelling of fortune. May I always serve His feet.” Satyā recounted her tale: “To test the power and valor of suitors, my father set before them seven fierce, sharp-horned bulls. Krishna, destroyer of heroes’ pride, subdued them as a child binds calves. Thus He won me, my maidservants, and my army, defeating all who opposed Him on the road. May I forever remain His servant.” Bhadrā continued: “My father, inviting my maternal uncle, gave me to Krishna, the dark-complexioned one, along with an army and companions, for his heart was set on Him. May I, in every birth, touch His feet, for by that touch, one wandering in the cycle of karma attains the highest good.” Lakṣmaṇā then told her story: “From Nārada I heard, again and again, the tales of Krishna’s birth and deeds. My heart was drawn to Mukunda, the lotus-handed, forsaking even the guardians of the world. Sensing my devotion, my loving father Bṛhatsena arranged for my marriage. As at Draupadī’s svayaṃvara, a fish was set up as the target—this time, hidden above, its reflection visible in the water below. News of this challenge spread, and kings from all directions, skilled in arms, arrived by the thousands, each with their teachers. My father honored them all according to their strength and age. Those who sought my hand took up bows and arrows in the assembly. Many tried to string the bow but failed; some, drawing the string to their chest, were struck down by its force. The kings of Magadha, Ambashṭha, and Cedi, as well as Bhīma, Duryodhana, and Karṇa, managed to string the bow but did not grasp the true challenge. Then Arjuna, perceiving the fish’s image in the water, carefully released his arrow. It touched, but did not cut, the target. When the kings withdrew, their pride broken, Krishna took up the bow and strung it effortlessly. With a single glance at the fish’s reflection, He released His arrow, striking and felling the target as the sun stood in the Abhijit constellation. I entered the arena, anklets softly tinkling, holding a golden garland of radiant gems, clad in new silk, shyly smiling, with my hair adorned by a floral wreath. Lifting my face, my earrings and cheeks aglow, I cast gentle, smiling glances at the kings, and, my heart devoted to Murāri, placed the garland upon His shoulder. At that moment, drums, conches, trumpets, and other instruments resounded; dancers performed and singers sang. When I chose Krishna, the master of Māyā, the assembled kings, burning with desire, could not bear my choice, just as they had with Draupadī, and began to quarrel. Krishna placed me on His chariot, yoked with four splendid horses. Taking up His Śārṅga bow, donning armor, and revealing His four arms, He stood ready for battle. Dāruka drove the golden-adorned chariot, and Krishna carried me away before the eyes of all, like the king of beasts seizing his prize. Some kings pursued us, armed and determined, like village lions chasing Hari. But Krishna’s volleys of arrows from the Śārṅga bow struck them down, severing arms, legs, and necks. Some perished, others fled the field. At last, the Lord of the Yadus entered His city, adorned with sun-shaded banners and painted gateways, celebrated in heaven and on earth, like a ship reaching its harbor. My father honored his friends and kin with precious garments, ornaments, beds, seats, and gifts. He bestowed upon Krishna maidservants, wealth, soldiers, chariots, horses, and fine weapons with full devotion. We, the maidservants of Krishna’s household, became so through true austerity and complete detachment, serving Him who is ever self-satisfied.” The queens all spoke: “After slaying Bhauma and his followers in battle, Krishna freed us—princesses once conquered—and, remembering His lotus feet, the fulfiller of all desires, He accepted us in marriage, granting us liberation from worldly bondage. We desire neither sovereignty, nor lordship, nor rulership, nor even the supreme position of Brahmā, nor the endless abode of Hari. We wish only to bear upon our heads the dust of His glorious feet, fragrant with the scent of His consort’s breast-unguent, He who wields the mace. The cowherd women of Vraja, the Pulinda women, the grasses and herbs, the cows, and the cowherd boys—all yearn for the touch of the feet of that great soul as He tends the cows.” Śuka continued: When Kuntī, Subhadrā, Draupadī, Mādhavī, the royal wives, and Krishna’s own gopīs heard of the deep affection the Supreme Soul had for them, they were all astonished, their eyes brimming with tears. As the women spoke among themselves and the men among men, the sages arrived, eager to see Krishna and Balarāma.