Hearing the wondrous words about Krishna, the lords of the gods—Indra, Shiva, Brahma, and others—along with the sages, bowed their heads and hearts in reverence. Yet, they were bewildered, unable to fully grasp the profound truth before them. Meanwhile, in the land of Vraja, the cows, whose hoofs bore the sacred marks of flag, thunderbolt, lotus, and goad, roamed joyfully, soothed by the enchanting music of Krishna’s flute. Their gentle steps healed the earth, covering the wounds left by their hooves. As Krishna walked among them, his playful glances and the awakening of desire in the hearts of those who beheld him left the gopīs utterly enchanted. Lost in confusion, they wandered about, unaware of their own disheveled hair or garments, completely absorbed in his presence. Sometimes, Krishna adorned himself with a fragrant garland of tulasi, counting the cows as he walked. With his arm resting on the shoulder of a dear friend, he sang sweetly, filling the air with his melodious voice. The sound of Krishna’s flute so captivated the minds of his wives and companions that they followed him, their hearts wholly absorbed in his ocean of virtues. Even the deer, like the cowherd women freed from the bonds of home, followed after him, drawn by his charm. On the banks of the Yamuna, Krishna was welcomed with garlands of jasmine and festive attire. Surrounded by the cowherds and cattle, Nanda’s son delighted the hearts of his loving friends with his playful pastimes. A gentle breeze, fragrant with sandalwood, blew in his honor. Groups of celestial singers encircled him, offering music, song, and praise. Ever affectionate to the cows of Vraja and honored by the elders along the path, Krishna led all the cattle home at the end of the day, his fame celebrated by the sound of his flute. His face shone with beauty from exertion, his garland dusted with the earth kicked up by the cows’ hooves. He returned, wishing to bestow blessings upon his friends—the king who arose from Devaki’s womb. His eyes rolled slightly with joy, his garland gleaming, his lips pale like the jujube fruit, and his soft cheeks adorned with splendid golden earrings. The lord of the Yadus, sporting among the king of elephants, returned at day’s end like the lord of night, his face radiant with joy. He approached the village, relieving the cows of Vraja from the day’s heat. In this way, O King, the women of Vraja spent their days singing of Krishna’s pastimes, wholly absorbed in him, their minds and hearts filled with great joy. Thus concludes the thirty-fifth chapter, named “The Song of the Gopīs in Pairs,” in the first half of the Tenth Book of the Śrīmad Bhāgavatam Mahāpurāṇa, the scripture for supreme renunciates. But soon, a new danger approached. Ariṣṭa, the bull-demon, arrived at the cowherd settlement, shaking the earth with his massive hump and tearing up the ground with his hooves. He bellowed harshly, scraped the earth with his feet, raised his tail, and tossed mounds of earth, lifting them with his horns. As Ariṣṭa released dung and urine, his eyes fixed and unblinking, his fierce bellowing terrified both cows and people. Pregnant women, out of fear, miscarried before their time, and the clouds, mistaking his hump for a mountain, scattered away. Seeing his sharp horns, both men and women of the cowherd community were struck with terror. The frightened cattle fled the settlement, abandoning Gokula. All cried out, “Krishna! Krishna!” and took refuge in Govinda. Seeing Gokula panic-stricken with fear, the Lord took notice. He comforted them, saying, “Do not be afraid,” and called out to the bull-demon while the trembling cowherds and cattle looked on: “What is this, O worst of creatures?” Achyuta struck the ground with his palm, provoking Ariṣṭa with a resounding slap, and declared, “I am the destroyer of the pride of the wicked, like you, O evil-minded one.” Standing with his arm over his friend’s shoulder, Hari awaited Ariṣṭa’s charge. Enraged, Ariṣṭa scraped the earth with his hoof, whirled his raised tail like a storm cloud, and charged furiously at Krishna. With sharp horns pointed forward, eyes bloodshot, Ariṣṭa rushed at Achyuta, casting a sidelong glance like a thunderbolt released by Indra. The Lord seized him by the horns, stepped back eighteen paces, and dragged him away, just as an elephant would pull back another elephant. Thrown aside, Ariṣṭa quickly rose again, his body drenched in sweat, breathing heavily, and overcome by wrath, he charged once more. Krishna seized him by the horns, pressed him down with his foot, and threw him to the ground. He squeezed him as one wrings out wet clothes, then struck him with the horn, causing Ariṣṭa to fall. Vomiting blood, releasing urine and feces, flailing his legs, his eyes unsteady, Ariṣṭa suffered greatly and met his end at the hands of Nirṛti. The gods showered Krishna with flowers and praised him. Having slain the bull-demon Kukudmin in this manner, Krishna, praised by the twice-born, entered the cowherd settlement with Balarama, a festival for the eyes of the gopīs. When Ariṣṭa was slain by Krishna’s wondrous deeds, the divine sage Nārada, who beholds the gods, went to inform Kaṃsa. He told Kaṃsa that the daughter of Yaśodā, the boy Krishna of Devakī, and Rāma, son of Rohiṇī, had been entrusted by the fearful Vasudeva. Vasudeva had placed them with his friend Nanda, and these two had slain Kaṃsa’s men. Hearing this, the king of the Bhojas, his senses agitated by anger, seized a sharp sword, intending to kill Vasudeva, but was restrained by Nārada, who revealed that those two sons were destined to bring about Kaṃsa’s death. Realizing this, Kaṃsa bound Vasudeva and his wife with iron chains. When the divine sage departed, Kaṃsa summoned Keśin and spoke to him, sending him forth with the command, “Go and kill Rāma and Keśava; then send Muṣṭika, Cāṇūra, Śala, Tośala, and others.” Kaṃsa then summoned his ministers and elephant-keepers, saying, “Listen, all of you: these are the mighty wrestlers Cāṇūra and Muṣṭika. In Nanda’s cowherd village reside the two sons of Ānakadundubhi, Rāma and Krishna; therefore, my death has been foretold at their hands. You two must kill them here in a wrestling match; let various platforms be prepared, surrounded by the wrestling arena, so that all the citizens and country folk may witness their combat.” He instructed his chief minister, “Have the elephant Kuvalayāpīḍa brought to the gate of the arena; let him kill my enemies there. Let the bow-sacrifice be commenced on the fourteenth day, according to the prescribed rites; let the pure animals be brought in for offering to the Lord of beings, the bestower of blessings.” Having thus instructed the expert in practical affairs, Kaṃsa summoned the foremost among the Yadus, took his hand in his own, and then spoke to Akrura.