Sudāmā, filled with reverence and joy, welcomed Kṛṣṇa and Balarāma, along with their companions, into his home. He brought seats for them and offered water to wash their feet, arranging offerings and honors befitting their divine presence. With garlands, betel leaves, and fragrant ointments, he worshipped them, extending his hospitality to all who accompanied them. With humility, Sudāmā spoke, “O Lord, your arrival has made my birth meaningful and my lineage pure. My ancestors and the gods are pleased with me because you have graced my home.” He acknowledged the true nature of his guests, saying, “You two are indeed 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, even to those who worship you or are worshipped by you.” Then Sudāmā asked, “Now command your servant—what shall I do for you? To be instructed by you is the highest favor a person can receive.” Thinking thus, with a joyful heart, Sudāmā offered them garlands made from excellent, fragrant flowers. Adorned with these garlands, Kṛṣṇa and Balarāma, pleased, granted boons to Sudāmā, who had bowed and surrendered himself. Sudāmā requested unwavering devotion to the all-pervading Self, friendship with His devotees, and supreme compassion for all beings. The Lord, granting him these boons and also wealth to increase his lineage, strength, long life, fame, and splendor, departed with His elder brother. Thus concludes the forty-first chapter, “Entry into the City,” of the first half of the tenth book of the Śrīmad Bhāgavatam, the great Purāṇa, revered by the supreme renunciates. Śuka continued: Afterwards, favoring Kubjā, breaking the bow, and preparing the wrestling arena, Mādhava proceeded along the royal road. As he walked, he saw a young maiden with a lovely face, Kubjā, carrying a vessel of fragrant ointment. Smiling with delight, Kṛṣṇa questioned her, “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 maiden, 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, she applied the rich ointment to both Kṛṣṇa and Balarāma. Adorned with the ointment, which shone with a color different from their own, and having received a share from another, the two appeared even more attractive, their forms enhanced. Pleased, the Lord resolved to straighten the hunchbacked, lovely-faced Kubjā, demonstrating by His action the fruit of seeing Him. Placing His feet on hers and lifting her chin with the upward-turned fingers of His hand, Acyuta drew her up and straightened her body. Instantly, Kubjā’s body became straight and beautiful, her hips broad and her breasts full, transformed by the touch of Mukunda into an exquisite woman. Endowed now with beauty, virtues, and generosity, she drew Kṛṣṇa’s upper garment and, smiling with awakened desire, spoke to Keśava, “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.” Thus entreated, Kṛṣṇa, as Balarāma watched and the followers looked on, 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.” Leaving her with sweet words, Kṛṣṇa continued along the merchant’s road. With Balarāma, he was honored by people bringing gifts—betel, garlands, and perfumes. The women of the city, agitated by seeing and remembering Him, lost awareness of themselves; their clothes, hair, and bangles slipped, as if they were painted figures coming to life. Then, Acyuta asked the townspeople about the place of the bow and entered there. He saw the wondrous bow, shining like Indra’s own, guarded by many men and worshipped for its splendor. Though restrained by the guards, Kṛṣṇa forcefully took up the bow. With his left hand, he playfully lifted it, strung it in a moment before all eyes, and, drawing it back, broke it in the middle as an elephant snaps a sugarcane stalk. The sound of the bow breaking filled the sky, earth, and all directions; hearing it, Kaṃsa was seized with fear. The angry guards and their followers rushed to seize and kill him, shouting, “Catch him! Kill him!” Seeing their hostile intentions, Balarāma and Kṛṣṇa became angry; taking up fragments of the bow, they struck and killed them. Having slain the force sent by Kaṃsa, the brothers joyfully left the hall and wandered about, observing the city’s splendor. The residents, witnessing their wondrous valor, brilliance, confidence, and form, regarded them as foremost among the gods. As the two wandered freely, the sun set; Kṛṣṇa and Balarāma, accompanied by the cowherds, returned from the city to their wagon. The gopīs, distressed by separation from Mukunda, offered sincere blessings in Mathurā. Gazing upon the beauty of the best among men, Lakṣmī herself abandoned others and desired only him. With their feet washed and having eaten food mixed with milk, Kṛṣṇa and Balarāma spent the night happily, aware of Kaṃsa’s intentions. Meanwhile, Kaṃsa, hearing of the breaking of the bow, the destruction of his guards, and the extraordinary play of Govinda and Rāma, was greatly disturbed. Sleepless and fearful, his mind was troubled by evil omens. He described many signs, both real and imagined, heralding the approach of death: he saw his own head missing in reflections, and when it appeared, it seemed doubled; duplicity appeared in the stars; he perceived gaps in his shadow, could not hear his own breath, saw gold in trees, and his footprints vanished. In dreams, he embraced the dead, rode a donkey, felt sorrow, wore garlands of nalada, was smeared with oil, and wandered naked—each sign deepening his fear of the impending doom.