Śuka began his narration: After purifying themselves, Kṛṣṇa and Rāma, O mighty King, heard the thunderous sound of drums echoing from the wrestling arena. Drawn by the commotion, they came to witness the spectacle. As they approached the entrance, Kṛṣṇa saw the formidable elephant Kuvalayāpīḍa stationed there, its keeper urging it on, blocking their path. Śauri, tying his belt tightly and brushing aside his curly locks, addressed the elephant keeper in a voice deep and resonant, like rolling thunder: “O elephant keeper, let us pass without delay. Otherwise, today I shall send you and your elephant to the abode of Yama, the lord of death.” Provoked by these words, the elephant keeper, furious, incited the monstrous elephant—so dreadful it seemed like Death itself—against Kṛṣṇa. The lordly elephant charged and seized Kṛṣṇa forcefully with its trunk. Yet, slipping from its grasp, Kṛṣṇa struck the elephant and moved beneath its massive feet. The enraged beast fixed its gaze and scent upon Keśava, touching him with its trunk, but Kṛṣṇa eluded its hold. Then, grasping the elephant’s tail, Kṛṣṇa dragged the mighty creature twenty-five bows’ length, as Garuḍa would playfully drag a serpent. Turning the elephant left and right, Achyuta spun it around as easily as a child would spin a calf. Approaching head-on, he struck the elephant with his hand, causing it to stagger and fall, touching it step by step. The elephant, quickly rising from the ground as if in sport, struck the earth in anger with its tusks, thinking itself fallen. When its strength was subdued, the great elephant, furious and urged on by its keepers, charged at Kṛṣṇa once more in rage. As it rushed upon him, Lord Madhusūdana seized its trunk with his hand and threw it forcefully to the ground. Stepping upon the fallen elephant, like a lion playing with its prey, Kṛṣṇa tore out its tusk and, wielding it as a weapon, struck the elephant keeper. Leaving the dead elephant behind, Kṛṣṇa entered the arena, carrying the tusk on his shoulder, drops of blood and ichor marking him, his lotus face radiant with beads of sweat. Baladeva and Janārdana, accompanied by a few cowherds, entered the arena, holding the elephant’s tusks as their weapons. To the wrestlers, Kṛṣṇa appeared as a thunderbolt; among men, he was the foremost; to women, the embodiment of Cupid; to the cowherds, a kinsman; to wicked rulers, a chastiser; to his parents, a child; to King Bhoja, death itself; to the wise, the cosmic form; to the yogis, the Supreme Truth; and to the Vṛṣṇis, the Supreme Deity. Thus known, he entered the arena with his elder brother. Seeing Kuvalayāpīḍa slain and those two unconquerable ones entering, even the resolute Kaṃsa became greatly disturbed in mind. Kṛṣṇa and Balarāma, possessing mighty arms, shone as they entered the arena, adorned in splendid garments, ornaments, garlands, and cloth—like expert actors assuming supreme roles, captivating all with their radiance. The citizens and country folk, seated on platforms, gazed at the two supreme persons, their eyes and faces stirred by delight, unable to be satisfied by beholding their faces. It was as if they drank with their eyes, licked with their tongues, smelled with their noses, and embraced with their arms. They spoke among themselves, recalling what they had seen and heard—their beauty, virtues, sweetness, and boldness—reminded anew of their greatness. They declared: “These two are indeed 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 were destroyed. He rescued the cows and their herders from the forest fire; subdued Kāliya the serpent; and humbled Indra’s pride. For seven days, with one hand, he held up the great mountain, protecting Gokula from rain, wind, and thunderbolts. The cowherd women, always seeing his smiling, glancing face, crossed all hardships and fatigue with joy. By him, the illustrious Yadu dynasty, already renowned, will attain prosperity, fame, and greatness. And this is his elder brother, the glorious Rāma, lotus-eyed, who slew Pralamba, Vatsaka, Baka, and others.” While the people thus spoke and musical instruments resounded, Cāṇūra addressed Kṛṣṇa and Rāma: “O sons of Nanda, O Rāma, you two are esteemed as heroes, skilled in wrestling, and have been summoned by the king, eager to see you. When the king’s wishes are fulfilled, the people surely attain welfare—by thought, deed, and word; the opposite is considered otherwise. The cowherds and herders, always joyful, would openly play at wrestling in the forests while tending the cows. Therefore, O friends, let us do what pleases the king, for when the king, who embodies all beings, is satisfied, all creatures are pleased with us.” Hearing this, Kṛṣṇa spoke words appropriate to the time and place, welcoming the challenge of wrestling, which he himself desired: “We, the subjects of King Bhoja, and we forest-dwellers as well, will always do what pleases him; that is our greatest favor. We are boys, and will play with those of equal strength as is proper; let the wrestling match be fair, so that the assembly of wrestlers may not find fault with us.” Cāṇūra replied: “You are neither a child nor a youth; you are the foremost among the strong, for by your play the mighty elephant, who bore the strength of a thousand, was slain. Therefore, you two must wrestle with the strong; there is no evasion here. Let Mushtika contend with Balarāma, and let me, O descendant of Vrishni, match my strength with yours.” Thus, the stage was set, with Kṛṣṇa and Balarāma standing radiant and resolute, ready to face the mighty wrestlers, as all eyes watched with awe and anticipation.