As the queens of Lord Krishna gathered together, each shared her story with heartfelt devotion, recounting how the Lord had entered her life and bestowed his grace. Kālindī spoke first. She told how, yearning to touch Krishna’s feet, she had performed austere penances. Knowing her heart’s desire, Krishna approached her as a friend, gently took her hand, and accepted her into his household, where she joyfully served as a humble sweeper. Then Mitravindā recalled her own svayaṃvara, the ceremony where a princess chooses her husband. Krishna arrived, vanquished the assembled kings, and, like a mighty elephant claiming his mate, carried her away. He drove off her brothers and brought her to his resplendent city, the very abode of fortune. Mitravindā’s only wish was to serve at his feet. Satyā, another queen, remembered how her father devised a test of strength for her suitors, setting seven fierce, sharp-horned bulls as the challenge. Krishna, destroyer of the pride of heroes, subdued them with ease, binding them as effortlessly as a child ties young calves. Having thus won her hand, along with her maidservants and army, Krishna overcame all rivals on the road and claimed her as his own. Satyā prayed to remain his servant always. Bhadrā spoke next. Her father, in the presence of her maternal uncle, had given her in marriage to Krishna, the dark-hued Lord, along with an army and companions. Bhadrā’s deepest desire was to touch Krishna’s feet in every birth, for she knew that such contact brings the soul the highest good, freeing one from the endless cycle of karma. Lakṣmaṇā recounted how, hearing again and again from the sage Nārada about Krishna’s wondrous birth and deeds, her mind became fixed on Mukunda, the lotus-handed Lord, forsaking all the guardians of the world. Perceiving her heart’s longing, her affectionate father, Bṛhatsena, devised a way for her marriage. At her svayaṃvara, a fish was concealed outside the assembly but could be seen only as a reflection in the water below, reminiscent of Arjuna’s contest for Draupadī. Word of this challenge drew kings from all directions—masters of every weapon—who arrived in their thousands, accompanied by their teachers. Bṛhatsena honored each according to his strength and stature. Those who wished to win Lakṣmaṇā took up bows and arrows to compete in the assembly. Yet many failed even to string the bow, some collapsing under its strength. Great heroes—like the kings of Magadha, Ambashṭha, Cedi, as well as Bhīma, Duryodhana, and Karṇa—managed to string the bow but could not discern the true challenge. Arjuna, however, saw the fish’s image in the water, understood its position, and carefully released his arrow, which merely touched the target. As the kings withdrew, their pride broken, Krishna then took up the bow, stringing it effortlessly. With a single glance at the fish’s reflection, he released his arrow, striking down the target while the sun stood in the Abhijit constellation. At that triumphant moment, Lakṣmaṇā entered the arena. Her anklets tinkled softly; she was radiant in new silk, holding a golden garland of gems, her hair adorned with a wreath of flowers, her face aglow with a bashful smile. Lifting her face, her earrings shining, she cast gentle, smiling glances at the assembled kings. Her heart wholly devoted to Murāri, she placed the garland upon Krishna’s shoulder. The arena resounded with the thunder of drums, kettledrums, conches, trumpets, and other instruments. Dancers performed, singers sang in celebration. Yet, as Lakṣmaṇā chose Krishna, the chiefs of men, burning with longing, could not bear the choice—much as they had at Draupadī’s svayaṃvara—and began to contend with one another. Krishna placed Lakṣmaṇā on his chariot, yoked with four splendid horses. Taking up the Śārṅga bow, donning his armor, and standing in his four-armed form, he prepared for battle. Dāruka drove the golden-adorned chariot, and, like a lion seizing its prey before the other beasts, Krishna carried Lakṣmaṇā away as the kings looked on. Some kings pursued, hoping to block his path, armed and ready, like village lions chasing Hari. But Krishna’s volleys of arrows from the Śārṅga bow struck them down; arms, legs, and necks were severed, and many fell, while others, abandoning the fight, fled the battlefield. Krishna, Lord of the Yadus, entered his city, which was splendidly decorated with banners shading the sun and painted gateways, celebrated both in heaven and on earth. It was as if a ship had reached its own harbor. Bṛhatsena honored Krishna’s friends, relatives, and kin with precious garments, ornaments, beds, seats, and other gifts. He gave maidservants, wealth, soldiers, chariots, horses, and valuable weapons, all with full devotion. Lakṣmaṇā and her companions became humble servants in Krishna’s household, their status won by true austerity and complete detachment, serving the self-satisfied Lord. The queens remembered also how, after Krishna slew Bhauma and his followers in battle, he freed them—the princesses who had been conquered and held captive. Remembering his lotus feet, they offered themselves to him, and he accepted them in marriage, granting them liberation from worldly bondage. The queens declared that they desired neither sovereignty, lordship, rulership, nor even the supreme position of Brahmā or the endless abode of Hari. Their only wish was to bear on their heads the dust of Krishna’s glorious feet, fragrant with the scent of his consort’s sandal ointment, he who wields the mace. Even the cowherd women of Vraja, the Pulinda women, the grasses and herbs, the cows, and the cowherd boys all longed for the touch of the feet of that great soul as he tended the cows. As these stories and praises were shared, Śuka continued the narration. When Kuntī, Subhadrā, Draupadī, Mādhavī, the royal wives, and their own gopīs heard of Krishna’s profound affection for them, they were all filled with wonder, their eyes brimming with tears of joy. While the women spoke among themselves and the men among men, a host of sages arrived, eager to see Krishna and Balarāma. Among them were Vyāsa, Nārada, Cyavana, Devala, Asita, Viśvāmitra, Śatānanda, Bharadvāja, and Gautama. Rāma came with his disciples, as did the venerable Vasiṣṭha, Gālava, Bhṛgu, Pulastya, Kaśyapa, Atri, Mārkaṇḍeya, and Bṛhaspati. Others too arrived: Dvitas, Trita, Ekata—the sons of Brahmā—Aṅgirā, Agastya, Yājñavalkya, Vāmadeva, and many more. Seeing these revered sages, the kings, who had been seated with the Pāṇḍavas, Krishna, and Balarāma, immediately rose and bowed in respect. All worshipped the sages as was proper, and Krishna and Balarāma honored them with words of welcome, comfortable seats, water for washing feet, offerings, garlands, incense, and ointments. When the sages were seated comfortably, the Lord—embodiment of righteousness—addressed them with measured words. The entire assembly listened in silent reverence, eager to hear the wisdom that flowed from his lips.