Akrūra, with deep humility, addressed King Kaṃsa, saying, “O King, your command is just. The removal of your enemies is your own noble duty. Yet, know that the outcome—be it success or failure—rests equally in the hands of destiny, for destiny alone determines the results of all endeavors. People exert themselves greatly to achieve their desires, even when fate stands in their way, and thus they experience both joy and sorrow. Nevertheless, I shall carry out your order.” Having instructed Akrūra in this way and dismissed his ministers, Kaṃsa withdrew into his palace, while Akrūra returned to his own home. Not long after, Kaṃsa sent forth the terrible Keśī, a mighty horse-demon, swift as thought itself. As Keśī thundered across the earth, his hooves shook the ground, his wild mane seemed to shake the very sky, and his fierce neighing struck terror into all who heard it. With bulging eyes, a monstrous mouth, and a neck thick and powerful, Keśī, dark as a rain-laden cloud and filled with malice, set out to aid Kaṃsa, making his way to Nanda’s Vraja. The very land trembled at his approach. Arriving in Krishna’s own cowherd village, Keśī’s neighing and the stormy clouds whipped by his tail filled the air with dread. But Krishna, the leader of the cowherds, called out to him, his voice resounding like a lion’s roar. As Krishna was engaged in sacrifice, Keśī, furious and intent on destruction, rushed at him as if to devour the sky itself, striking the lotus-eyed Lord with his hooves, his speed fierce and unbearable. But Krishna, the Unmanifest Lord, full of righteous wrath, deceived the demon, seized him by the legs, whirled him around, and flung him aside with contempt, sending him flying the distance of a hundred bows, just as Garuḍa might toss aside a serpent. Regaining his senses, Keśī rose again, more enraged than ever, and charged at Krishna with open jaws. Smiling, Krishna thrust his arm into the demon’s mouth, just as a serpent slips into its hole. As the Lord’s arm touched Keśī’s teeth, they shattered like red-hot iron. Krishna’s arm, entering the demon’s body, began to expand, swelling like an iron bar. Keśī’s breath was blocked, his limbs flailed, and his body, drenched in sweat and eyes rolling, collapsed to the ground, vomiting blood, lifeless. From the demon’s body, which resembled the fruit of a crab-apple, Krishna withdrew his arm, unperturbed and without pride at his effortless victory. The gods, filled with wonder, showered flowers upon him in reverence. At that moment, the foremost of devotees, the divine sage Nārada, approached Krishna and spoke a secret, praising the Lord whose actions are ever pure. He addressed Krishna: “O Krishna, Krishna! O unfathomable Self, Lord of yoga, Lord of the universe, O Vāsudeva, abode of all, foremost of the Sātvatas, O Master! You are the Self of all beings, the singular light among the wise, hidden in the cave of every heart, the witness, the Great Person, the Supreme Lord. By your own Self you are your own refuge; at the beginning, by your māyā, you created the guṇas, and with them, O Lord of true resolve, you create, maintain, and dissolve this world. “Thus you have descended to destroy the burdens of the earth—demons, tormentors, and Rākṣasas—and to protect the virtuous. By great fortune, this demon in the form of a horse has been slain by you in sport, whose neighing even terrified the gods, causing the sleepless ones to abandon heaven. “Soon, O Lord, I shall witness you slay Cāṇūra, Muṣṭika, and other wrestlers, the mighty elephant, and Kaṃsa himself. After that, the defeat of Śaṅkha, Yavana, Murā, and Naraka; the theft of the Pārijāta tree; and the humbling of Indra. I shall see your marriages to heroic maidens, won by your valor and other virtues, and the liberation of King Nṛga from his curse in Dvārakā, O Lord of the world. You will obtain the Syamantaka jewel along with its keeper’s wife, and restore the dead son to the Brahmin by bringing him back from your own abode. You will slay Pauṇḍraka, burn the city of Kāśī, destroy Dantavakra, and cause the death of Śiśupāla at the great sacrifice. And whatever other heroic deeds you perform while residing in Dvārakā, O Lord, I shall witness them, for they are sung by poets on earth. “Now, I shall also see the destruction of these armies by Him who is Time personified—the annihilator—with Arjuna as His charioteer. We contemplate upon 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, O Lord, refuge of all, who by Your own power of illusion have created all distinctions; who, for the sake of divine play, have assumed a human form; the foremost among the Yadus, Vṛṣṇis, and Sātvatas.” Having thus praised Krishna and offered his obeisance, the sage, having been permitted by Krishna, departed, his heart delighted by the vision of the Lord. Meanwhile, Govinda, having slain Keśī in battle, tended the cows with the joyful cowherds, bringing happiness to the land of Vraja. One day, as the cowherds grazed the cattle on the slopes of the mountain, they began to play a game of hiding, dividing themselves into groups of thieves and protectors. Some acted as thieves, some as cowherds, and some as sheep; all played together, fearless and carefree. Among them, Vyoma, the son of Maya and master of illusion, disguised himself as a cowherd. Taking the role of the leader of the sheep, he led away many who played as thieves. The great demon, having thus gathered them, cast the children into a mountain cave, leaving only four or five, and sealed the entrance with a rock. Krishna, perceiving Vyoma’s wickedness, seized the demon as he was leading away more cowherds, just as a lion seizes a wolf. Vyoma then assumed his own massive, mountain-like form and struggled mightily to escape, but could not break free from Krishna’s grasp. Krishna subdued him with his arms, threw him to the ground, and, as the gods watched from above, killed the slayer of cattle. Breaking open the cave’s entrance, Krishna released the imprisoned cowherds with some difficulty. Praised by the gods and the cowherds alike, he returned to his own Vraja. Thus ends the thirty-seventh chapter, entitled ‘The Slaying of Vyomāsura,’ in the first half of the tenth book of the Śrīmad Bhāgavata Mahāpurāṇa, the scripture revered by the paramahaṃsas. Now, Akrūra, the wise one, spent that night in Mathurā. At dawn, he mounted his chariot and set out for Nanda’s Gokula. As he journeyed along the road, his heart overflowing with devotion for the Lord with lotus eyes, he began to reflect deeply upon the divine.