Seeing the hostile intentions of Kamsa’s guards, both Balarama and Krishna grew angry. Seizing fragments of the broken bow, they struck down their adversaries, slaying those sent by Kamsa. Having defeated the force arrayed against them, the two brothers joyfully left the hall, wandering through Mathura and admiring the city’s splendor. The residents of Mathura, witnessing the astonishing valor, brilliance, confidence, and divine form of Krishna and Balarama, regarded them as the foremost among the gods. As the two wandered freely, evening descended and the sun set. Krishna and Balarama, accompanied by the cowherds, returned from the city to their wagon. Meanwhile, the gopis, distressed by their separation from Mukunda, offered heartfelt blessings for him while in Mathura. Gazing upon the beauty of Krishna, the best among men, even Lakshmi herself abandoned all others and desired only him. That night, with their feet washed and having eaten food mixed with milk, Krishna and Balarama rested happily, fully aware of Kamsa’s intentions. Kamsa, upon hearing of the breaking of the bow, the destruction of his guards, and the extraordinary deeds of Govinda and Rama, was deeply disturbed. Sleepless and fearful, his mind troubled by evil omens, Kamsa described many signs—both real and imagined—that foretold the approach of death. He saw his own head missing in reflections, and when it did appear, it seemed doubled; he saw duplicity 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. Witnessing such omens both in dreams and waking, terrified by the prospect of death, Kamsa could not sleep, his mind filled with anxiety. When night had passed and the sun rose, Kamsa arranged a grand festival of wrestling. The arena was decorated by men; drums and trumpets sounded, and the platforms were adorned with garlands, flags, cloths, and arches. Townspeople, villagers, and leaders among Brahmins and Kshatriyas entered according to their status, and the kings took their seats. Surrounded by his ministers, Kamsa sat on the royal platform among the regional rulers, his heart agitated. As the trumpets and drums played, the wrestlers, well adorned and proud, entered with their teachers. Chanura, Mushtika, Kuta, Shala, and Toshala approached the stage, delighted by the sweet music. The cowherds, led by Nanda and summoned by the king of the Bhojas, offered their gifts and entered together upon a single platform. Thus concludes the forty-second chapter, entitled "Description of the Wrestling Arena," in the first half of the tenth book of the Śrīmad Bhāgavatam, the great Purāṇa, the scripture of the supreme renunciates. Śuka continued: Then Krishna and Balarama, having purified themselves, heard the booming sound of the wrestling drums and came to witness the spectacle. As they approached the entrance to the arena, Krishna saw Kuvalayapida, the mighty elephant, stationed there and urged on by its keeper. Krishna, fastening his belt and brushing aside his curly locks, addressed the elephant keeper in a voice as deep as thunder: “O elephant keeper, give us passage and do not delay. Otherwise, today I shall send you and your elephant to the abode of Yama.” Thus rebuked, the elephant keeper, enraged, incited the furious elephant against Krishna—a beast as dreadful as Death itself. The lordly elephant rushed at Krishna and seized him forcefully with its trunk, but Krishna slipped from its grasp, struck it, and moved beneath its feet. Enraged, the elephant fixed its gaze and scent upon Krishna, touched him with its trunk, but he escaped once again. Grabbing its tail, Krishna dragged the mighty elephant twenty-five bows’ length, as Garuda would playfully drag a serpent. Turning it left and right, Krishna spun the elephant around as a child would spin a calf. Then, approaching head-on, Krishna struck the elephant with his hand, causing it to stagger and fall, touching it step by step. The elephant, rising swiftly from the ground in play, thinking itself fallen, struck the earth in anger with its tusks. When its strength was checked, the great elephant, furious and urged on by its keepers, charged at Krishna in rage. As it rushed upon him, the Lord Madhusudana seized its trunk with his hand and threw it to the ground. Stepping upon the fallen elephant as a lion would in sport, Krishna tore out its tusk and with it struck the elephant keeper. Leaving the dead elephant behind, holding its tusk, Krishna entered the arena with the tusk resting on his shoulder, marked by drops of blood and ichor, his lotus face radiant with beads of sweat. Accompanied by a few cowherds, Baladeva and Janardana entered the arena, wielding the elephant’s tusks as their weapons. To the wrestlers, Krishna was a thunderbolt; among men, the foremost man; to women, the embodiment of Cupid; to the cowherds, a kinsman; to the wicked rulers, a chastiser; to his parents, a child; to King Bhoja, death; to the wise, the cosmic form; to the yogis, the Supreme Truth; to the Vrishnis, the Supreme Deity—thus known, Krishna entered the arena with his elder brother. O King, seeing Kuvalayapida slain and those two unconquerable ones entering, even the resolute Kamsa became greatly disturbed in mind. The two brothers, possessing mighty arms, shone as they entered the arena, adorned with varied garments, ornaments, garlands, and cloth, like expert actors assuming supreme roles, captivating the minds of all who beheld them with their radiance. O King, seeing those two supreme persons, the citizens and country folk seated on platforms gazed with eyes and faces stirred by the surge of delight, unable to be satisfied by beholding those faces.