After having their feet washed and enjoying a meal of food mixed with milk, the guests spent the night in contentment, even as they were aware of Kamsa’s sinister intentions. Meanwhile, news reached Kamsa: the great bow had been broken, his guards defeated, and the astonishing feats of Govinda and Rama had spread through the city. Hearing all this, Kamsa was seized by turmoil. Fearful and unable to sleep, his mind was plagued by ominous signs—some real, some conjured by his anxious heart—all portending his imminent death. He saw his own reflection without a head, or sometimes with two heads; the stars themselves seemed doubled and deceitful. His shadow appeared broken, his breath was silent to his own ears, and he saw gold glimmering strangely in the trees. Even his own footprints seemed to vanish behind him. In his dreams, he embraced the dead, rode upon a donkey, felt waves of sorrow, wore garlands of nalada flowers, was smeared with oil, and wandered naked. These dreadful omens, both in waking and in sleep, filled Kamsa with terror, leaving him restless and sleepless through the night. When dawn broke and the sun rose, Kamsa tried to master his dread by arranging a grand wrestling festival. The arena was lavishly decorated: men adorned the grounds, drums and trumpets thundered, and the platforms were festooned with garlands, flags, bright cloths, and beautiful arches. People from the city and countryside gathered—leaders of Brahmins and Kshatriyas entered according to their rank, and the kings took their seats. Kamsa, surrounded by his ministers and the chieftains of the regions, sat upon the royal platform, though his heart was far from calm. As the music of trumpets and drums filled the air, the wrestlers, proud and splendidly adorned, entered the arena with their teachers. The mighty Chanura, Mushtika, Kuta, Shala, and Toshala took their places upon the stage, delighted by the festive sounds. At the king’s summons, Nanda and the cowherds entered as one, bearing their gifts and taking their seats together upon a single platform. Thus concludes the chapter describing the wrestling arena, in the first half of the tenth book of the Śrīmad Bhāgavatam, the revered scripture of the supreme renunciates. Then, Śuka continued: Kṛṣṇa and Rāma, having purified themselves, heard the resounding drums from the wrestling arena and came forth to witness the event. As they approached the entrance, Kṛṣṇa saw the fierce elephant Kuvalayāpīḍa, stationed there and incited to rage by its keeper. Śauri, tightening his belt and brushing aside his curly locks, addressed the elephant keeper in a voice 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.” Angered by these words, the elephant keeper goaded the furious beast towards Kṛṣṇa. The elephant, as formidable as Death itself, charged and seized Kṛṣṇa with its trunk. But Kṛṣṇa slipped free, struck the elephant, and darted beneath its massive feet. The enraged elephant fixed its gaze and scent upon Kṛṣṇa, reaching for him with its trunk, but he eluded its grasp. Grabbing the elephant’s tail, Kṛṣṇa dragged the mighty animal twenty-five bows’ length, just as Garuḍa might playfully drag a serpent. Spinning the elephant to the left and right, he tossed it about as easily as a child spins a calf. Then, facing the beast head-on, Kṛṣṇa struck it with his hand, causing it to stagger and fall as he deftly touched it step by step. The elephant, thinking itself fallen, quickly rose and, in its fury, struck the earth with its tusks. When its strength was checked, the great elephant, now furious and prodded on by its keepers, charged at Kṛṣṇa once more. But as it rushed upon him, Kṛṣṇa, Lord Madhusūdana, seized its trunk and hurled it to the ground. Stepping upon the fallen beast like a lion at play, he tore out its tusk and, wielding it as a weapon, struck down the elephant keeper. Leaving behind the slain elephant, Kṛṣṇa entered the arena with the tusk resting on his shoulder, his body marked with drops of blood and ichor, his lotus face aglow with beads of sweat. Accompanied by Baladeva and a few cowherds, the two brothers entered the arena, each carrying an elephant’s tusk as a weapon. To the wrestlers, Kṛṣṇa appeared as a thunderbolt; among men, he was the foremost; to the women, the very embodiment of Cupid; to the cowherds, a dear kinsman; to the wicked rulers, a chastiser; to his parents, a loving child; to King Bhoja, the harbinger of death; to the wise, the cosmic form; to the yogis, the Supreme Truth; and to the Vṛṣṇis, their Supreme Deity. Thus, Kṛṣṇa and his elder brother entered the arena, each seen in a unique way by those who gazed upon them. When the people saw that Kuvalayāpīḍa had been slain and these two unconquerable youths had entered, even the resolute Kamsa was shaken to his core. The brothers, their mighty arms adorned with ornaments, garlands, and colorful cloths, shone like expert actors assuming their greatest roles, captivating the hearts and minds of all onlookers with their radiant presence. The citizens and villagers seated on the platforms gazed at the two supreme persons, their eyes and faces alight with delight. No matter how long they looked, their eyes could not be sated; it was as if they drank with their eyes, savored with their tongues, inhaled with their noses, and embraced with their arms. They spoke among themselves, recalling what they had seen and heard—Kṛṣṇa’s beauty, virtues, sweetness, and boldness—each memory awakening fresh wonder. They declared to one another: “These two are surely direct incarnations of the Lord, Hari, Nārāyaṇa himself, who have descended in part into the house of Vasudeva. He was truly born of Devakī, then brought to Gokula, and, dwelling there in secret, grew up in the house of Nanda. By him, Pūtanā was brought to her end; the demon Cakravat was slain; Arjuna the Guhyaka, Keśī, Dhenuka, and others of that kind were also destroyed.” Thus, the hearts of all present overflowed with awe and devotion as they witnessed the divine brothers enter the wrestling arena, radiant and victorious.