Kamsa, the king of Mathura, was deeply troubled by the threat posed by Krishna and Balarama, the sons of Vasudeva, who were growing up in the pastoral haven of Nanda’s Vraja. Seeking a way to rid himself of this danger, he turned to Akrura, a gentle and capable man, and confided his scheme. “O noble one,” Kamsa said, “I take refuge in you, for you are able to accomplish great tasks. Just as Indra attained his purpose by relying on Vishnu, so do I trust in your strength.” He gave Akrura his command: “Go at once to Nanda’s Vraja. There, you will find the two sons of Anakadundubhi—Krishna and Balarama. Bring them here in this chariot without delay.” Kamsa revealed the depth of his anxiety, saying, “It is said that my death has been ordained by the gods who dwell in Vaikuntha. Bring those two boys here, along with Nanda and the other cowherds, and all the gifts they bring.” With cold resolve, Kamsa continued, “Once they are here, I will have them killed by the elephant, who is as terrible as death itself. Should they escape, my fierce wrestlers, as powerful as thunderbolts, will destroy them.” His hatred extended further: “When those two are dead, I will destroy Vasudeva and all those who suffer because of me. I will wipe out their kin—the Vrishnis, Bhojas, and Dasharhas. I will kill my aged father Ugrasena, who still covets the throne, his brother Devaka, and everyone who opposes me.” He dreamed of a world free of opposition: “Then, my friend, this earth will be rid of thorns. Jarasandha is my mentor, Dvivida my close companion. Shambara, Naraka, and Bana are my loyal friends. With them, I will destroy the kings allied with the gods and enjoy the earth’s sovereignty.” With these plans set, Kamsa urged, “Knowing all this, go swiftly and bring Rama and Krishna, those playful boys, to witness the bow-sacrifice and the splendor of the Yadu city.” Akrura, ever composed, replied, “O King, your command is just, and the removal of your enemies is your duty. Yet, success and failure are both governed by destiny; fate alone determines the outcome. People strive for their desires, even when fate stands in their way, experiencing both joy and sorrow. Nevertheless, I shall carry out your order.” With that, Kamsa dismissed his ministers and retired to his palace, while Akrura returned to his own house to prepare for the journey. Meanwhile, Kamsa sent forth a new threat—a demon named Keshi, taking the form of a mighty horse. Swift as thought, Keshi thundered across the earth, his hooves shaking the ground, his wild mane stirring the sky, and his terrible neighing striking fear into all. His eyes were wide, his mouth monstrous, his neck thick, and his body dark as a raincloud. Harboring evil intent and eager to serve Kamsa, Keshi charged into Nanda’s Vraja, making the whole village tremble. As Keshi’s fierce neighing and the swirling clouds from his tail terrified Krishna’s own cowherd village, Krishna, leader of the cowherds, called out to the demon, his voice resounding like a lion’s roar. As Krishna was engaged in sacrifice, Keshi rushed at him in a fury, as if to devour the very sky, and struck the lotus-eyed Lord with his powerful hooves. Unmoved, Krishna, the Unmanifest Lord, tricked the demon. With both hands, he seized Keshi by the legs, spun him around, and hurled him contemptuously a hundred bows’ length away, as Garuda would toss aside a serpent. Stunned but not defeated, Keshi regained his senses, rose in rage, and charged at Krishna with his mouth wide open. Smiling, Krishna thrust his arm deep into the demon’s jaws, as a serpent slips into its hole. As Krishna’s arm entered, Keshi’s teeth shattered like burning iron, and the Lord’s arm began to expand inside him, growing like a bar of iron. Keshi’s breath was choked, his limbs flailed desperately, and, drenched in sweat and vomiting blood, his eyes rolled as he collapsed to the earth, lifeless. From the demon’s body, which now looked like a crushed crab-apple, Krishna withdrew his arm. The Lord showed no pride or astonishment at this effortless victory, but the gods above showered him with flowers in reverence. At that moment, the foremost of devotees, the divine sage Narada, appeared before Krishna and spoke these secret words: “Krishna, Krishna, O unfathomable Self, Lord of yoga, Lord of the universe, O Vasudeva, abode of all, foremost among the Sātvatas, O Master! You are the Self of all beings, the one light among the wise, hidden in the heart’s cave, the witness, the Great Person, the Lord. By your own Self, you are your own refuge. In the beginning, by your maya, you created the gunas; with them, O Lord of true resolve, you create, maintain, and dissolve this world.” Narada continued, “You have descended for the destruction of earth’s burdens—demons, tormentors, and rakshasas—and for the protection of the virtuous. By good fortune, this demon in the form of a horse, whose neighing terrified even the gods, has been slain by you in play. Soon, I shall see you defeat Chanura, Mushtika, and other wrestlers, the elephant, and Kamsa himself. Afterward, Sankha, Yavana, Mura, and Naraka will fall; you will take the Parijata tree and humble Indra. I shall witness your marriages to heroic maidens, your liberation of King Nriga from his curse in Dvaraka, your winning of the Syamantaka jewel and its wife, and the restoration of a Brahmin’s dead son. I will see the slaying of Paundraka, the burning of Kashi, the destruction of Dantavakra, and the death of Shishupala at the great sacrifice. And whatever other heroic deeds you perform while residing in Dvaraka, O Lord, I shall witness them, for they are sung by poets on earth. Now, I shall see the destruction of armies by you, who are Time itself, with Arjuna as your charioteer.” With deep devotion, Narada concluded, “We contemplate upon the Lord, full of pure knowledge, ever established in his own nature, whose every wish is fulfilled, who is ever free from illusion, and the source of all qualities. I bow to you, the refuge of all, who by your own power of illusion have created all distinctions; who, for the sake of play, have assumed a human form; the foremost among the Yadus, Vrishnis, and Satvatas.” Having offered his homage, Narada bowed to Krishna, the chief of the Yadus, and, with Krishna’s permission, departed, delighted by this divine vision. Krishna, known as Govinda, having slain the horse-demon Keshi, returned to tend the cows with the joyful cowherd boys, bringing happiness to all of Vraja. On one occasion, as the cowherds grazed their cattle on the mountain slopes, they played a lively game of hiding, dividing into teams as thieves and protectors. Some played the role of thieves, some as cowherds, and others as sheep, all joining together in carefree, fearless play, their hearts full of delight in Krishna’s company.