Kamsa, the tyrant king, burned with ambition and malice. He spoke with grim resolve: “When those two—Rama and Krishna—are slain, I will destroy Vasudeva and all who suffer under him. Not just him, but their kin as well: the Vrishnis, Bhojas, and Dasharhas. I will also kill Ugrasena, my aged father who covets the throne, his brother Devaka, and all who oppose me. Then, my friend, this earth will be rid of its thorns. Jarasandha is my mentor, Dvivida my dear companion. Shambara, Naraka, and Bana are loyal to me; with them, I will vanquish all kings allied with the gods and enjoy the earth’s pleasures.” Having laid out his plan, Kamsa commanded, “Bring Rama and Krishna quickly—those playful souls—to witness the bow-sacrifice and the grandeur of the Yadu city.” To this, Akrura, his minister, replied with humility and wisdom, “O King, your command is proper, and the removal of your enemies is indeed your duty. But remember—success or failure rests equally upon destiny, for destiny is the true cause of results. People strive for their desires, even when fate obstructs them; joy and sorrow both come. Still, I will carry out your order.” With this, Kamsa dismissed his ministers and entered his palace, while Akrura returned to his home. Meanwhile, Kamsa sent forth Kesi, a mighty horse demon, swift as thought. Kesi thundered across the earth, shaking the sky with his wild mane and terrifying all with his fierce neighing. His monstrous mouth gaped, his neck thick, and his body dark as a storm cloud. Harboring evil intent and eager to serve Kamsa, Kesi entered Nanda’s Vraja, making it tremble. As Kesi frightened Krishna’s cowherd village, tossing clouds with his tail and neighing ferociously, Krishna—the leader of the cowherds—roared back like a lion. While Krishna performed a sacrifice, Kesi, furious, rushed at him as if to swallow the sky itself, striking the lotus-eyed Lord with his powerful feet. But Krishna, the Unmanifest Lord, deceived him in wrath. Seizing Kesi by both legs, Krishna whirled him around and hurled him contemptuously a hundred bows’ length away, like Garuda tossing a serpent. Stunned, Kesi recovered and charged at Hari with open mouth. Smiling, Krishna thrust his arm into Kesi’s jaws, as a serpent enters its hole. The touch of Krishna’s arm shattered Kesi’s teeth like heated iron breaking apart. Krishna’s arm expanded within the demon’s body, blocking his breath. Kesi, drenched in sweat, eyes rolling, collapsed, vomiting blood, lifeless. Krishna withdrew his arm from the demon’s body—unastonished and unboastful at his effortless victory. The gods honored him with showers of flowers. At that moment, the foremost of devotees, the divine sage, approached Krishna and spoke a secret. “Krishna, Krishna, O unfathomable Self, Lord of yoga, Lord of the universe, Vāsudeva, abode of all, foremost of 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 māyā, you created the guṇas and, with them, you create, sustain, and dissolve the world.” He continued, “You have descended for the destruction of earth’s burdens—demons, tormentors, and Rākṣasas—and for the protection of the virtuous. By good fortune, you have slain this demon in the form of a horse, whose neighing terrified the gods and drove them from heaven. Tomorrow or the day after, O Lord, I shall see you slay Cāṇūra, Muṣṭika, other wrestlers, the elephant, and Kaṃsa. Then will come the defeat of Śaṅkha, Yavana, Murā, Naraka, the theft of the Pārijāta tree, and Indra’s defeat. I shall witness your marriages to heroic maidens won by valor, the liberation of King Nṛga from his curse in Dvārakā, the obtaining of the Syamantaka jewel with its wife, the restoration of the Brahmin’s dead son by your own abode, the slaying of Pauṇḍraka, the burning of Kāśī, the destruction of Dantavakra, and the death of Śiśupāla at the great sacrifice. And whatever other heroic deeds you perform in Dvārakā, Lord, I shall witness them, as poets sing of them on earth.” He added, “Now, I shall witness the destruction of these armies by Him who is Time personified, with Arjuna as His charioteer. We contemplate the Lord, dense with pure knowledge, established in His own nature, whose every purpose is fulfilled, whose desires never fail, who by His own splendor is ever free from illusion, and who is the source of the flow of 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, Vṛṣṇis, and Sātvatas.” After bowing to Krishna, the chief of the Yadus, the sage departed, delighted by this divine vision. Krishna, having slain Kesi in battle, tended the cows with the joyful cowherds, bringing happiness to Vraja. One day, as the cowherds grazed their cattle on the mountain slopes, they played a game of hiding, taking sides as thieves and protectors. Some played as thieves, some as cowherds, and some as sheep. All played together, fearless and carefree. Vyoma, the son of Maya and master of illusion, disguised himself as a cowherd and, acting as the leader of the sheep, led away many who played as thieves. The great demon, having led them away, cast them into a mountain cave, leaving only four or five outside, and closed the entrance with a rock. Recognizing Vyoma’s wicked deed, Krishna—the refuge of the virtuous—seized the demon as he was leading the cowherds away, just as a lion seizes a wolf. Vyoma then assumed his true form, massive as a great mountain, and struggled to escape. But overpowered by Krishna, he could not free himself.