As the assembly gathered for my swayamvara, my father honored each guest according to their strength and age. Many kings, eager for my hand, took up bows and arrows, preparing to prove themselves before all. Some valiantly tried to string the mighty bow, but their efforts were in vain; others, attempting to draw the bowstring to their chest, were struck down by its force, falling in defeat. Among the assembled heroes—kings of Magadha, Ambashṭha, and Cedi, as well as Bhīma, Duryodhana, and Karṇa—some managed to string the bow, yet failed to grasp the true challenge before them. Then Arjuna, perceiving the image of the fish reflected in water and understanding its position, released his arrow with great care. The arrow did not cut, but gently touched the target. When the kings withdrew, their pride broken, the Lord himself—Krishna—took up the bow and strung it effortlessly. With a single glance at the fish in the water, he aimed and released his arrow, severing the target and causing the fish to fall, all while the sun stood in the Abhijit constellation. At that moment, I entered the arena, my anklets tinkling softly, holding a radiant golden garland of gems in my hands. I was adorned in new silk, my hair crowned with a floral wreath, and a bashful smile graced my face. Lifting my face, my large earrings shining and cheeks aglow, I cast gentle, smiling glances at the assembled kings. With a heart devoted to Murāri, I placed my garland upon Krishna’s shoulder. Immediately, drums, kettledrums, conches, trumpets, and other instruments resounded throughout the hall. Dancers performed, and singers sang in celebration. When I chose Krishna, the master of Māyā, the chiefs of men, burning with desire, could not tolerate my choice. They began to compete with each other, unwilling to accept defeat. Krishna placed me upon his chariot, yoked with four excellent horses. He took up the Śārṅga bow, donned his armor, and stood ready for battle with four arms revealed. Dāruka drove the chariot, adorned with golden fittings, as the kings looked on—just as the king of beasts carries off his prey before the other animals. Some kings pursued us, seeking to block our path, their bows drawn and weapons ready, like village lions chasing Hari. But struck by volleys of arrows from the Śārṅga bow, their arms, legs, and necks severed, some fell in battle, while others, abandoning the fight, fled. Then the Lord of the Yadus entered the city, splendidly decorated with sun-shaded banners and painted gateways, celebrated both in heaven and on earth, like a ship returning to its own harbor. My father honored his friends, relatives, and kin with precious garments, ornaments, beds, seats, and other gifts. He offered maidservants, all kinds of wealth, soldiers, chariots, horses, and valuable weapons, giving everything with full devotion. We, the maidservants of Krishna’s household, became so by the power of true austerity and complete detachment, serving him who is ever self-satisfied. The queens spoke among themselves: “Having slain Bhauma and his followers in battle, Krishna freed us, the princesses conquered by him. Remembering his lotus feet, the fulfiller of all desires, he accepted us in marriage, granting us liberation from worldly bondage. We do not desire sovereignty, lordship, rulership, nor even the supreme position of Brahmā, nor the endless abode of Hari. We desire only to bear on 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 their own gopīs heard of Krishna’s deep affection for them, they were amazed, 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. Vyāsa, Nārada, Cyavana, Devala, Asita, Viśvāmitra, Śatānanda, Bharadvāja, and Gautama came. Rāma with his disciples, the venerable Vasiṣṭha, Gālava, Bhṛgu, Pulastya, Kaśyapa, Atri, Mārkaṇḍeya, and Bṛhaspati also arrived. Dvitas, Trita, Ekata, the sons of Brahmā, Aṅgirā, Agastya, Yājñavalkya, Vāmadeva, and others joined them. Seeing these revered sages, the kings who had been seated, along with the Pāṇḍavas, Krishna, and Balarāma, immediately rose and bowed to them. They worshipped the sages as was proper, and Rāma and Acyuta honored them with words of welcome, seats, water for washing feet, offerings, garlands, incense, and ointments. The Lord, embodiment of righteousness, spoke to them as they sat comfortably, while the great assembly listened in silence to his measured words. Krishna said: “Ah, we who are born into this world have attained the highest fruit, which is difficult even for the gods to obtain—the sight of the masters of yoga. What to say of those men of little austerity, who, in worshipping the gods—the eyes of the world—gain the chance to see, touch, question, and bow to the feet of such beings? Neither sacred waters nor gods made of clay and stone purify in the same way; it is the holy ones who purify, simply by their sight, even in a brief moment. Neither fire, nor sun, nor moon and stars, nor earth, water, sky, wind, speech, or mind—though worshipped as separate—remove sin; the wise destroy it by serving the enlightened, even for a moment. He who identifies the self with the body of three elements, regards wife and kin as his own, worships earth as sacred, and sees holy places only as water, but never seeks out the wise—he is no better than a cow or donkey.” Śuka said: Hearing Krishna’s words, whose wisdom is unfathomable, the sages sat silent, their minds perplexed by the depth of his speech. After long deliberation, the sages, smiling at the Lord of the universe, said that his sovereignty was for gathering people together. The sages spoke: “By your māyā, O highest knower of truth, even we, the lords among the creators of the world, are bewildered; your mastery is hidden by your own mysterious power—how wondrous are the Lord’s actions! Though without desire, you create, maintain, and withdraw the world in many ways, yet are not bound—just as the earth, though appearing in many forms and names, remains unchanged. How marvelous and mysterious are the acts of your greatness! Yet, at the proper time, for the protection of Your own people, You assume the mode of goodness, and also for the subjugation of the wicked; by Your own play, You uphold the eternal path of the Veda, O Supreme Person, who are the soul of the varṇāśrama order.” Thus unfolded the glorious events, as witnessed by all, with the Lord at the center, revered by sages, beloved by his devotees, and the eternal path upheld.