In the bustling city of Mathurā, the great elephant Kuvalayāpīḍa, agitated and playful, suddenly rose from the ground, believing itself to have fallen. In anger, it struck the earth with its tusks, its mighty strength checked. Furious and spurred on by its keepers, the elephant charged at Kṛṣṇa, its rage uncontained. As it rushed forward, Lord Madhusūdana, with remarkable composure, seized the elephant's trunk with his hand and threw the beast down to the ground. Then, like a lion sporting with its prey, Kṛṣṇa stepped upon the fallen elephant, tore out one of its tusks, and struck the elephant keeper with it. Leaving the lifeless Kuvalayāpīḍa behind, Kṛṣṇa entered the arena, holding the tusk on his shoulder. Drops of blood and ichor marked his path, and his lotus face shone, radiant and adorned with beads of sweat. Accompanied by a few cowherds, Baladeva and Janārdana strode into the arena, wielding the elephant’s tusks as their weapons. To each group present, Kṛṣṇa appeared differently: to the wrestlers, he was as formidable as a thunderbolt; among men, he was the foremost; to the women, he embodied Cupid; to the cowherds, a beloved kinsman; to the wicked rulers, a chastiser; to his parents, a cherished child; to King Bhoja, he was death itself; to the wise, the cosmic form; to the yogis, the Supreme Truth; and to the Vṛṣṇis, the Supreme Deity. Thus, known in many ways, Kṛṣṇa entered the arena with his elder brother. Upon seeing the slain Kuvalayāpīḍa and the unconquerable brothers, even the resolute Kaṃsa was greatly disturbed in mind. The two, mighty-armed and resplendent, entered the arena adorned in varied garments, ornaments, garlands, and cloth, shining like expert actors assuming supreme roles. Their radiance captivated all who beheld them. The citizens and country folk, seated on platforms, gazed upon Kṛṣṇa and Baladeva, their faces and eyes stirred by delight. No matter how long they looked, their eyes could not be satisfied, 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 the brothers’ beauty, virtues, sweetness, and boldness, as if reminded anew by what they had seen and heard. They recognized the divine nature of the brothers, declaring that these two were direct incarnations of Hari, Nārāyaṇa himself, who had descended in part into the house of Vasudeva. Kṛṣṇa was truly born of Devakī, then brought to Gokula, where he dwelled in secret and grew up in the house of Nanda. By him, Pūtanā met her end, the demon Cakravat was slain, Arjuna the Guhyaka, Keśī, Dhenuka, and others of their kind were destroyed. He rescued cows and 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 over all hardships with joy. It was said that by him, the illustrious Yadu dynasty would attain prosperity, fame, and greatness. Baladeva, his elder brother, lotus-eyed and glorious, had slain Pralamba, Vatsaka, Baka, and others. As the people whispered among themselves and musical instruments resounded, the wrestler Cāṇūra addressed Kṛṣṇa and Baladeva. He said, “O sons of Nanda, O Rāma, you 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 attain welfare by thought, deed, and word; the opposite is considered otherwise. The cowherds, always joyful, would wrestle openly 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 in words fitting the time and place, welcoming the challenge, which he himself desired. He said, “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 Baladeva, and let me, O descendant of Vrishni, match my strength with yours.” Thus ends the forty-third chapter, entitled “The Slaying of Kuvalayapida,” in the first half of the tenth book of the Śrīmad Bhāgavatam, the scripture for the paramahamsas. Śuka continued: With his resolve honored, Lord Madhusūdana, along with the son of Rohini, approached Cāṇūra and Mushtika. They locked hands and feet, forcefully dragging each other, each eager for victory. The wrestlers struck each other with fists, knees, heads, chests, and shoulders. With circling, feints, embraces, throws, advances, and retreats, they continually countered each other. By lifting, raising, shaking, and holding, each sought to overpower the other, exerting their full strength. Observing this contest of strength and weakness, all the women assembled there spoke among themselves with compassion, in groups. They lamented, “Alas, what great injustice is this among the king’s assembly, that they desire such a contest of strength and weakness before the king, as he looks on! How can these wrestlers, with bodies hard as thunderbolts and resembling mountain peaks, be matched against these two youths, so delicate and not yet come to full manhood? Surely, this assembly will incur a breach of righteousness, for where unrighteousness arises, one should never remain.