Though the demons witnessed the unfolding events, they did nothing to stop them, for their minds were clouded by delusion. Recognizing this, the great yogī Maya addressed the guardians of the nectar. Smiling and free from sorrow, Maya remembered those who suffered in grief and the workings of destiny, knowing that none—be they god, demon, human, or any other—are truly independent in this world. What is ordained for oneself or another cannot be avoided by anyone, for fate reigns supreme. With this understanding, Maya, using his own powers, performed the principal act of Shiva. Through righteousness, knowledge, detachment, prosperity, austerity, learning, and action, he manifested the chariot, charioteer, banner, horses, bow, armor, arrows, and all the necessary elements for battle. Fully armed, he mounted the chariot, taking up the bow and arrow. Fitting the arrow to the bow, the Lord of Victory prepared himself in an instant. With that arrow, O King, Hara burned the three impregnable cities. In the heavens, drums resounded, and hundreds of celestial vehicles crowded the skies. The gods, sages, ancestors, and perfected beings, filled with joy, showered flowers and proclaimed victory, while the hosts of Apsaras danced in delight. Thus, having burned the three cities, the Lord—destroyer of cities—praised by Brahma and others, returned to his own abode. In this way, the deeds of Hari, who, by his own power, playfully imitates the ways of mortals, are sung by the sages. What more can one say? For these stories purify the world. Sūta continued: As the Lord approached the lands of Ānarta and his own prosperous regions, he blew his resounding conch, as if dispelling the sorrow of the people. That conch, white-bellied and high-pitched, touched by the reddish lower lip of the mighty Lord, when blown in his lotus-like hand, sounded like the call of a swan in a pond of lotuses. Hearing that resounding, fear-dispelling blast, all the people, eager to see their Lord, came forth. Gathered there, their strength renewed, they honored him as one would a lamp in darkness, ever content and fulfilled in themselves simply by his presence. With faces blooming with joy, they spoke in voices choked with happiness, as children do to a father who is their protector and dearest friend. “We bow to you, Master, whose lotus feet are always worshipped by Brahma, Shiva, and Indra. You are the supreme refuge for those who seek well-being, where even time, the supreme lord, holds no sway. For our welfare, you are the creator, sustainer, and protector of the universe. You are our mother, friend, lord, and father. You are our true teacher and highest deity—by following you, we have become accomplished. Ah, we are truly blessed by you, for even the gods of heaven rarely behold what we see: your face, radiant with loving smiles and glances, and your form adorned with all auspiciousness. O lotus-eyed one, whenever you departed for the Kurus or the Madhus, wishing to see your friends, each moment became as long as millions of ages, like eyes bereft of the sun, O Acyuta.” Thus, as the people spoke these words, the Lord, ever affectionate to his devotees, listened and bestowed his gracious glance, then entered the city. Protected by the Madhus, Bhojas, Dasharhas, Kukuras, Andhakas, and Vrishnis—whose strength was equal to his own—he made the city secure, just as serpents guard Bhogavati. In every season, with all prosperity, surrounded by auspicious trees, creepers, hermitages, gardens, parks, and lotus ponds, the city shone with splendor. At the gates, doorways, and roads, festive arches were constructed, adorned with colorful flags and banners, and within, the sunlight was kept at bay. The grand avenues, streets, markets, and squares were swept clean, sprinkled with fragrant water, and decorated with fruits, flowers, and grains. At the doors of each house, yogurt, grains, fruits, and sugarcane were arranged, along with full pots, offerings, incense, and lamps. Hearing that their beloved was arriving, Vasudeva, noble-minded Akrura, Ugrasena, Rama of wondrous prowess, Pradyumna, Charudeshna, Samba son of Jambavati, and all others, overwhelmed with joy, abandoned their beds, seats, and meals. Placing the lordly elephant at the front, accompanied by Brahmins chanting auspicious hymns, with the sound of conch shells and trumpets, honored by the chanting of Vedic hymns, they joyfully approached with chariots, moved by affection and awe. Hundreds of leading elephants, eager for his sight, with shining earrings, radiant cheeks, and faces, enhanced the splendor of the procession. Dancers, actors, Gandharvas, bards, Magadhas, and singers sang the wondrous deeds and stories of the illustrious one. The Blessed Lord, among his relatives and the citizens who followed him, approached each according to custom, honoring them all. With humble greetings, embraces, hand-touch, and smiling glances, he comforted those who had been away and granted desired boons to others. He himself, along with elders, priests, wives, and aged relatives, received blessings from others and entered the city, accompanied by singers. As Krishna proceeded along the royal road of Dvaraka, the noble women of the city ascended their mansions, eager for the great festival of his sight. Though the residents of Dvaraka gazed upon him constantly, their eyes were never satisfied, for he is the abode of fortune and the source of beauty. His chest is the dwelling place of fortune, his face the drinking vessel for the eyes, his arms the guardians of the world, and his lotus feet the refuge of the virtuous. Adorned with white parasols and fans, showered with fresh flowers along the path, wearing yellow garments and a forest garland, he shone like the sun surrounded by clouds, a rainbow, and lightning. Entering his parents’ house, he was embraced by his mothers, bowing his head joyfully to Devaki and the other seven. Those women, with breasts wet from affection, lifted their son onto their laps and, overwhelmed with joy, bathed him with tears from their eyes. Then he entered his own unsurpassed palace, fulfilling every desire, where there were sixteen thousand mansions of his wives. His wives, after being separated from their husband and now seeing him return home, rose at once from their seats and beds, their hearts filled with festival-like joy, their faces and eyes cast down in modesty due to their vows.