As the joyous sounds of Krishna and Balarama’s arrival echoed through the city, the people of Mathura were overtaken by wonder and delight. Some, abandoning their meals and leaving festive gatherings unfinished, rushed out without even pausing to bathe. Others, startled from their sleep by the commotion, hurried forth with unweaned children in their arms—even the mothers could not resist the pull of this moment. Krishna walked among them, his lotus-like eyes sparkling with playful glances and gentle smiles. With every look, he captivated the hearts of the women, enchanting them much like a proud, intoxicated elephant delights all who see him. Their eyes feasted on his beauty, and in his presence, the women’s minds, already drawn by stories they had heard, were completely absorbed. Their pride was awakened by Krishna’s smiling glances; they embraced him with their eyes, their skin tingling with joy, and in that blissful vision, all sorrows were forgotten. Faces blooming with happiness, the women climbed to the rooftops of their mansions, showering down flowers and blessings upon Krishna and Balarama as they passed. Along the way, delighted brāhmaṇas gathered at various places to honor the brothers. They offered curds, unbroken rice, water-filled vessels, garlands, fragrant substances, and other auspicious gifts. The townspeople marveled aloud, “What great austerities must the cowherd women have performed, that they are able to see these two, who are themselves the greatest festival in the human world?” As Krishna and Balarama continued on, Krishna, the elder brother of Gadā, noticed a washerman—one who dyed and cleaned clothes—approaching. Krishna asked him for some fine, clean garments, saying, “O good man, give us suitable clothes, for we are worthy. By giving to us, you will gain the highest good—of this there is no doubt.” But the washerman, a servant of the king, was filled with arrogance. With contempt and anger, he replied, “Such clothes are meant only for those who dwell in forests and mountains. Why do you, so bold, desire the king’s property? Go quickly, children; do not ask for such things if you wish to live. The royal households are proud—they bind, kill, and plunder.” Hearing these harsh words, Krishna, the son of Devakī, became angry. With a single blow of his hand, he struck the washerman, severing his head from his body. The washerman’s attendants, terrified, abandoned their bundles of clothes and fled in all directions. Krishna, known as Acyuta, gathered the garments. He and Balarama dressed themselves in the garments that pleased them most and distributed the remaining clothes to their cowherd companions, leaving some on the ground. Then, a tailor, delighted by the opportunity, prepared beautiful attire for the two brothers—garments of various colors and elegant designs. Krishna and Balarama shone in their new attire, their forms radiant like young elephants at a festival—one fair, one dark. Pleased by the tailor’s service, Krishna blessed him with a form resembling his own, supreme good fortune, strength, sovereignty, keen memory, and mastery over his senses. Continuing on, the brothers came to the home of Sudāmā, the garland-maker. Seeing Krishna and Balarama, Sudāmā rose and bowed his head to the ground in reverence. He brought seats for them, washed their feet, and offered them garlands, betel, ointments, and other honors, extending his hospitality to their companions as well. Sudāmā spoke with deep joy: “O Lord, by your arrival, my birth has become meaningful and my lineage purified. My ancestors and the gods are pleased with me. You two are the supreme cause of the universe, descended in partial form for the welfare and prosperity of the world. Your vision is never partial, O friends and souls of the world; you are equal to all beings, whether they worship you or are worshipped by you. Please command your servant—what shall I do for you? To be instructed by you is the highest favor a person can receive.” With a joyful heart, Sudāmā offered garlands made from the finest, most fragrant flowers. Krishna and Balarama, adorned with these garlands and pleased by Sudāmā’s devotion, granted him boons. Sudāmā asked for unwavering devotion to the all-pervading Self, friendship with the Lord’s devotees, and supreme compassion for all beings. Granting him these blessings, along with wealth to increase his lineage, strength, long life, fame, and splendor, Krishna departed with his elder brother. Thus ended the forty-first chapter, “Entry into the City,” in the great Purāṇa, the Śrīmad Bhāgavatam, scripture of the supreme renunciates. Śuka continued: Next, Krishna showed favor to Kubjā, broke the great bow, and prepared for the wrestling arena. As Mādhava walked along the royal road, he saw a young woman carrying a vessel of fragrant ointment. She was Kubjā, a maiden with a lovely face, but her body was bent. Krishna, smiling and full of delight, approached her and asked, “Who are you, beautiful one? What is this fragrant ointment? Whose maid are you? Please tell us clearly. Apply this excellent ointment to our limbs; by this, your good fortune will soon arise.” The woman, known as Sairandhri, replied, “I am a maidservant, O handsome one, approved by Kaṃsa, and my name is Trivakra. My work is to prepare ointments, and what I make is especially dear to the Bhoja king. Besides you two, who else is worthy of it?” Captivated by their beauty, charm, sweet smiles, speech, and glances, Kubjā gladly applied the rich ointment to Krishna and Balarama. Adorned with the ointment, which shone with a color different from their own, the two brothers appeared even more attractive, their forms further enhanced. Pleased with her, Krishna resolved to straighten Kubjā’s hunchback, demonstrating the reward of merely seeing him. Placing his feet on hers and lifting her chin with his hand, Acyuta drew her up, straightening her body. Instantly, by the touch of Mukunda, Kubjā was transformed—her body became straight and beautiful, with broad hips and full breasts, an exquisite woman in every way. Endowed now with beauty, virtues, and generosity, Kubjā, her desire awakened, drew Krishna’s upper garment and, smiling, said, “Come, hero, let us go to my house; I cannot bear to let you go. My heart is stirred by you—please, best of men, be gracious to me.” Krishna, as Balarama and their companions watched, smiled and replied, “I will come to your house, O lovely-browed one, who captivates the hearts of men. When our purpose is fulfilled, you will be the refuge for us wanderers.” With these sweet words, Krishna continued on the merchant’s road, accompanied by Balarama, as people honored them with gifts—betel, garlands, and perfumes—celebrating the presence of the divine brothers in their midst.