On the banks of the Yamuna, Nanda’s son, Krishna, was welcomed with garlands of jasmine and festive attire. Surrounded by cowherds and cattle, he delighted the hearts of his loving friends with playful pastimes, his presence filling the air with joy. A gentle breeze, fragrant with sandalwood, blew in his honor, and celestial singers encircled him, offering music and song, praising him with devotion. Krishna’s affection for the cows of Vraja was evident as he was honored by the elders along the path. At the end of the day, he led all the cattle home, his fame carried by the enchanting sound of his flute. His face shone with the beauty of exertion, his garland dusted by the earth kicked up by the cattle’s hooves, as he returned, wishing to grant blessings to his friends—the king who arose from Devaki’s womb. His eyes rolled slightly with joy, his lips pale like the jujube fruit, and his soft cheeks were adorned by the splendor of golden earrings. The garland-wearing Krishna, giver of honor to his friends, radiated happiness. As the lord of the Yadus, he sported among the king of elephants, and at day’s end, he came like the lord of the night, his face glowing with joy as he approached the village, relieving the cows of Vraja from the day’s heat. In this way, Śuka explained, the women of Vraja spent their days absorbed in Krishna, singing of his pastimes, their minds and hearts wholly devoted, filled with great joy. Thus concludes the thirty-fifth chapter, “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. Then, a new threat arrived. Ariṣṭa, the bull-demon, came to the cowherd settlement, shaking the earth with his massive hump and tearing up the ground with his hooves. He bellowed harshly, scraping the earth with his feet, raising his tail and tossing mounds, lifting them with the tips of his horns. Bit by bit, he released dung and urine, his eyes fixed and unblinking, his fierce cries terrifying both cows and people. Out of fear, pregnant women miscarried before their time, and the clouds, mistaking his hump for a mountain, scattered away. The sight of his sharp horns struck terror in the cowherd men and women, and the cattle, frightened, fled the settlement, abandoning Gokula. All cried out, “Krishna! Krishna!” and took refuge in Govinda. Seeing Gokula panic-stricken with fear, the Lord noticed and comforted them, saying, “Do not be afraid.” He called out to the bull-demon, while the trembling cowherds and cattle watched: “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 extended over his friend’s shoulder, Hari awaited Ariṣṭa’s charge. Ariṣṭa, enraged, scraped the earth with his hoof, whirled his raised tail like a storm cloud, and rushed furiously at Krishna. With his sharp horns pointed forward, his eyes fixed and bloodshot, Ariṣṭa rushed at Achyuta, casting a sidelong glance like a thunderbolt released by Indra. Krishna 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 the charging demon 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, and Ariṣṭa fell down. 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 way, 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, the son of Rohiṇī, had been entrusted by the fearful Vasudeva. Vasudeva had placed them in the care of his friend Nanda, and these two had slain Kaṃsa’s men. Hearing this, the king of the Bhojas, agitated by anger, took up a sharp sword, intending to kill Vasudeva, but was restrained by Nārada, who revealed that these two sons were destined to be his 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: “Go and kill Rāma and Keśava; then send Muṣṭika, Cāṇūra, Śala, Tośala, and others.” The king of the Bhojas summoned his ministers and elephant-keepers and said, “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 citizens and country folk may witness their combat.” “O 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 pure animals be brought in for offering to the Lord of beings, the bestower of blessings.” Having thus instructed his expert in practical affairs, Kaṃsa summoned the foremost among the Yadus, took his hand in his own, and then spoke to Akrura: “O generous lord, please, out of respect, establish friendship with me; among the Bhojas and Vrishnis, there is no one more well-wishing than you. Therefore, gentle one, I have taken refuge in you, as you are capable of accomplishing important tasks, just as Indra, relying on Vishnu, attained his own purpose, O mighty one.” “Go to Nanda’s Vraja; there, the two sons of Anakadundubhi are staying. Bring them here at once in this chariot. It is said that my death has been sent by the gods who dwell in Vaikuntha; bring those two here together with the cowherds, led by Nanda, along with their gifts. When they have been brought here, I will have them killed by the elephant, who is like death itself; if they escape, then I will have them slain by wrestlers, fierce as lightning.