As Balarama wandered through the woods, a delightful fragrance of wine wafted through the air, awakening in him a deep, long-held desire. Eagerly, he followed the scent and soon beheld a wondrous sight: from the kadamba trees, a stream of wine flowed freely. Overcome with joy, Balarama—the mighty wielder of the plough—rejoiced in supreme delight. Gathered with the cowherds and cowherd women, Balarama drank the wine, his heart filled with happiness. As they reveled together, skilled singers and musicians performed charming melodies, further enlivening the festival atmosphere. Amidst the warmth of the day and the glistening droplets of water that sparkled like pearls all around, Balarama, overcome by delight and intoxication, called out: “Come, Yamuna! I wish to bathe!” But the river Yamuna, disregarding his drunken command, did not come to him. Angered, Balarama seized his mighty plough. With force, he dragged the river toward himself, rebuking her: “You wicked one, you do not come! Go as you wish!” Thus compelled by Balarama’s power, the Yamuna abandoned her winding course and flowed directly to where he stood, flooding the surrounding land. Suddenly, the river assumed a bodily form. Her eyes wide with fear, she pleaded with Balarama: “Be gracious, O wielder of the mace, release me!” But Balarama, still fierce, replied, “If you disregard my courage and strength, then I shall strike you with my plough and shatter you into a thousand pieces.” Terrified, the river goddess begged for mercy, and as the land flooded, Balarama relented and released her. With the river’s submission, Balarama’s radiance returned. He adorned himself with a beautiful lotus and a single earring. Lakshmi, the goddess of fortune, sent him a garland of unfading lotuses through Varuna, along with garments as blue as the ocean. Thus adorned with lotus ornament, shining earring, and blue robes, Balarama shone with divine splendor. He spent a month enjoying himself in Vraja, radiant and joyful. When the time had passed, Balarama returned to the city of Dvaraka. There, he married Revati, the daughter of King Raivata, and from their union were born two sons: Nishatha and Ulmuka. Meanwhile, in the land of Vidarbha, the noble king Bhishmaka ruled in Kundina. His son was Rukmi, and his daughter was the illustrious Rukmini. Rukmini desired Krishna, and Krishna, too, desired her, the lovely-smiling maiden. Yet Rukmi, out of enmity, refused to give his sister to Krishna, though Krishna sought her hand. Instead, Bhishmaka, following Rukmi’s will and the counsel of Jarasandha, arranged for Rukmini to be given to Shishupala. For the wedding, many kings led by Jarasandha gathered in Kundina, eager to please Shishupala. Krishna, accompanied by Balarama and many Yadavas, also traveled to Kundina to witness the event. At the splendid wedding, Krishna boldly seized Rukmini, entrusting Balarama and his kinsmen with the task of holding off the opposition. At once, Paundraka, Dantavakra, Viduratha, Shishupala, Jarasandha, Shalva, and many other kings assembled, their anger roused. They prepared for battle, determined to slay Krishna. But, defeated by Krishna and the Yadavas, they gathered in retreat with Balarama. Rukmi, enraged, swore an oath: “I will not enter Kundina without first killing Kesava in battle!” He rushed forth, intent on slaying Krishna. Though Rukmi’s army was filled with elephants, horses, infantry, and chariots, Krishna easily defeated him and cast him to the ground. Krishna, intent on slaying the arrogant Rukmi, was stopped by Rukmini, who pleaded, “I have only one brother; you must not kill him now. Restrain your anger, Lord of the gods, and let my brother be granted his life.” Hearing her words, Krishna spared Rukmi, who was abandoned and went to dwell in a city called Bhojakata. Thus, having thoroughly defeated Rukmi, Krishna—the destroyer of Madhu—married Rukmini, who had come to him through a rakshasa-style wedding. From their union was born Pradyumna, a mighty hero and a portion of the god of love. Yet, soon after his birth, Pradyumna was carried away by the asura Shambara, whom he would one day slay. O sage, you ask how the heroic Pradyumna was seized by Shambara and how he slew that mighty asura. Listen: On the sixth day after his birth, Pradyumna was taken from his mother’s chamber by Kala-Shambara, who thought, “I must kill this child.” Seizing him, Shambara cast the infant into the fierce, salty ocean—the dreadful domain of sea-monsters and terrifying whirlpools. There, a great fish swallowed the boy as he fell. Yet, even in the fish’s belly, Pradyumna survived, untouched by the digestive fire. In time, that fish was caught by fishermen, killed, and presented to Shambara himself. In Shambara’s house was a woman named Mayavati, mistress of the kitchens, faultless and skilled. When the fish’s belly was cut open, she saw a most beautiful boy—the first sprout of the god of love, who had once been burned by Shiva. Filled with wonder, Mayavati thought, “Who is this, and how has he come into the fish’s belly?” At that moment, the sage Narada appeared and spoke to her: “This is Krishna’s son, taken from the lying-in chamber by Shambara, the destroyer of offspring. Thrown into the ocean and swallowed by a fish, he has come under your care. O beautiful-browed one, confidently protect this boy.” Thus, the story unfolds, guided by the will of destiny and the protection of the divine.