Then, I entered the great arena, the gentle sound of my anklets announcing my arrival. In my hands, I carried a radiant golden garland, studded with gems, and I was adorned in a fresh silk garment. A shy smile played on my lips, and my hair was crowned with a fragrant floral wreath. Lifting my face, my large earrings glittering and my cheeks aglow, I cast gentle, smiling glances around at the assembled kings. My heart, wholly devoted to Murāri, guided my hand as I placed the garland upon his shoulder. In that moment, the air filled with the resounding music of drums, kettledrums, conches, trumpets, and other instruments. Dancers began to whirl and singers raised their voices in celebration. But when I, Draupadī, had chosen the Lord, master of Māyā, as my husband, the princes and kings, burning with thwarted desire, could not accept my choice. They began to compete fiercely with one another. The Lord, ever valiant, placed me upon his chariot, which was yoked to four splendid horses. He took up his Śārṅga bow, donned his shining armor, and, manifesting his four-armed form, stood ready for battle. Dāruka, his charioteer, drove the beautiful chariot—its golden fittings gleaming—while the kings looked on helplessly, as if the king of beasts had claimed his prey before the other animals could react. Some of the kings, determined to stop him, pursued along the road, weapons drawn and bows ready, like village lions chasing after Hari. Yet, when struck by volleys of arrows from the Śārṅga bow, their arms, legs, and necks were severed; some fell in the battle, while others, abandoning hope, fled the field. After this, the Lord of the Yadus entered his city, which was splendidly decorated with banners shading out the sun, painted gateways, and was celebrated in both heaven and on earth. He entered like a ship returning safely to its own harbor. My father welcomed his friends, relatives, and kin with precious garments, ornaments, beds, seats, and many other gifts. With maidservants, abundant wealth, soldiers, chariots, and horses, he bestowed valuable weapons with heartfelt devotion. We, the maidservants of his household, came to serve him by the power of true austerity and complete detachment, attending upon him who is ever self-satisfied. The queens spoke: “Having slain Bhauma and his followers in battle, he freed us, the princesses who had been conquered by that demon. Remembering his lotus feet, which fulfill all desires, he accepted us in marriage, granting us release from worldly bondage. We desire neither sovereignty, nor lordship, nor even the supreme position of Brahmā, nor the endless abode of Hari. What we wish for is only to bear upon our heads the dust of his glorious feet, fragrant with the unguent from his beloved’s breast—he who wields the mace. The cowherd women of Vraja, the Pulinda women, the grasses and herbs, the cows, and the cowherd boys—all long for the touch of the feet of that great soul as he tends the cows.” Śuka said: When Kuntī, Subhadrā, Draupadī, Mādhavī, the royal wives, and their own gopīs heard of the deep affection Kṛṣṇa, the Supreme Soul, bore for them, they were all amazed, their eyes brimming with tears of joy. As the women spoke among themselves and the men conversed together, great sages arrived, eager to see Kṛṣṇa and Balarāma. Among them were Vyāsa, Nārada, Cyavana, Devala, Asita, Viśvāmitra, Śatānanda, Bharadvāja, and Gautama. Rāma came with his disciples, accompanied by the venerable Vasiṣṭha, Gālava, Bhṛgu, Pulastya, Kaśyapa, Atri, Mārkaṇḍeya, and Bṛhaspati. Also present were Dvitas, Trita, Ekata—the sons of Brahmā—Aṅgirā, Agastya, Yājñavalkya, Vāmadeva, and others. Seeing these revered sages, the kings, the Pāṇḍavas, Kṛṣṇa, and Balarāma, who had been seated, immediately rose and bowed in respect to these venerable souls. They worshipped the sages as was fitting, and Rāma and Acyuta honored them with words of welcome, offering seats, water for washing their feet, garlands, incense, and ointments. Once the sages were comfortably seated, the Lord, embodiment of righteousness, addressed them. The great assembly fell silent, listening intently to his measured words. The Blessed Lord said: “Ah, we who are born into this world have attained the highest fruit, which even the gods find difficult to obtain—the sight of the masters of yoga. What can be said of those 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 images of gods made of clay and stone, purify as the holy ones do; even a brief sight of them brings purification. Not fire, nor sun, nor moon and stars, nor earth, water, sky, wind, speech, or mind—though worshipped as separate—remove sin; but 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 continued: Hearing these profound words of Kṛṣṇa, whose wisdom is unfathomable, the sages sat in silence, their minds perplexed by the depth of his speech. After a long deliberation, the sages, smiling at the Lord of the universe, spoke, saying that his sovereignty was meant to bring people together. They said: “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 you are without desire, you create, maintain, and withdraw the world in many ways, yet remain unbound—just as the earth, though appearing in many forms and names, remains unchanged. How marvelous and mysterious are your acts! Yet, at the proper time, for the protection of your own people, you assume the mode of goodness and also subdue the wicked; by your own play, you uphold the eternal path of the Veda, O Supreme Person, soul of the varṇāśrama order. O Brahman, your heart is pure, attained through austerity, study, and self-restraint; in it is realized that which is manifest, unmanifest, and beyond both. Therefore, O Brahman, you honor the community of Brahmins, the very source of the scriptures and of yourself; thus you become the foremost among those devoted to Brahman. Today, our birth, our learning, our austerity, and our vision have borne fruit, for by meeting you, who are the highest goal, we have attained the supreme good. Obeisance to that Lord Kṛṣṇa, whose intellect is unfailing, whose greatness is concealed by his own yogamāyā, and who is the Supreme Soul. He whom these kings and even the Vṛṣṇis, who delight in him alone, do not know—he is the Lord of time and the Self, hidden by the curtain of māyā. Just as a man lying asleep, though perceiving the elements and qualities, does not know his own true self, which is distinct from mere names and sense-objects.” Thus spoke the sages, in awe and reverence for the mysterious and all-pervading Lord.