Leaving behind the slain elephant Kuvalayāpīḍa, Krishna entered the great arena, carrying one of its tusks upon his shoulder. Drops of blood and ichor marked the tusk, and beads of sweat glistened on his radiant, lotus-like face. By his side walked his elder brother Balarāma, and a few cowherd boys, all bearing the elephant’s tusks as weapons. Together, Baladeva and Janārdana strode into the arena, the tusks resting on their shoulders, ready for whatever awaited them. To those gathered, Krishna appeared differently to each: to the wrestlers, he was a thunderbolt; among men, the most distinguished; to the women, he embodied Cupid himself; to the cowherds, a dear kinsman; to the wicked rulers, a chastiser; to his parents, a beloved child; to King Kaṁsa, he was death incarnate. The wise saw in him the cosmic form, the yogis recognized him as the Supreme Truth, and to the Vṛṣṇis, he was the Supreme Deity. In this way, Krishna, accompanied by his elder brother, entered the arena. O King, even the resolute Kaṁsa was shaken at the sight of these two unconquerable brothers and the fallen elephant. Krishna and Balarāma, with mighty arms, shone brilliantly as they entered, adorned with colorful garments, ornaments, garlands, and cloth. Their presence was like that of masterful actors assuming the highest roles, captivating the minds of all who beheld them. The citizens and country folk, seated on platforms around the arena, gazed at Krishna and Balarāma, their faces and eyes stirred by waves of delight. No amount of looking could satisfy their longing to behold those divine faces. It was as if they drank with their eyes, tasted with their tongues, smelled with their noses, and embraced with their arms, so intense was their yearning. The people spoke among themselves, recalling all they had seen and heard of Krishna and Balarāma—their beauty, virtues, sweetness, and courage—as if rediscovering them anew in this moment. “These two are indeed direct incarnations of the Lord,” they whispered, “Hari, Nārāyaṇa himself, who has descended in part into the house of Vasudeva. Krishna was truly born of Devakī, then brought to Gokula, where he dwelled in secret and grew up in the house of Nanda.” They recounted his wondrous deeds: “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 cowherds from the forest fire, subdued Kāliya the serpent, and humbled Indra’s pride. For seven days, he held up the great mountain with one hand, protecting Gokula from the deluge of rain, wind, and thunderbolts. The cowherd women, always seeing his smiling, glancing face, overcame all hardships and fatigue in joy. It is said that by him, the illustrious Yadu dynasty, already renowned, will attain prosperity, fame, and greatness under his protection.” “And this is his elder brother, the glorious Rāma, lotus-eyed, who slew Pralamba, Vatsaka, Baka, and others.” Thus the people spoke, their hearts filled with awe and love. Meanwhile, the arena resounded with the music of instruments, and the wrestler Cāṇūra stepped forward to address Krishna and Balarāma. “O sons of Nanda, O Rāma,” he declared, “you two are famed as heroes and skilled wrestlers. The king has summoned you, eager to see your prowess. When the king’s wishes are fulfilled, the people prosper; otherwise, it is not so. The cowherds and herders, always joyful, would play at wrestling in the forests while tending the cows. Let us, therefore, do what pleases the king, for when the king, who embodies all beings, is satisfied, all creatures are pleased with us.” Krishna replied with words fitting the time and place, welcoming the challenge, for he too desired to wrestle. “We, the subjects of King Bhoja, and we forest-dwellers as well, will always do what pleases him; that is our greatest favor. Yet, we are but 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.” But Cāṇūra insisted, “You are neither a child nor a youth; you are the foremost among the strong. By your play, you have slain the mighty elephant, who bore the strength of a thousand. Therefore, you two must wrestle with the strongest among us; there is no evasion here. Let Muṣṭika contend with Balarāma, and let me, O descendant of Vṛṣṇi, match my strength with yours.” Thus concludes the forty-third chapter, ‘The Slaying of Kuvalayāpīḍa,’ 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, together with the son of Rohiṇī, approached Cāṇūra and Muṣṭika. They locked hands and feet, dragging each other forcefully, each eager for victory. They struck with fists, knees, and heads, and pressed with their chests and shoulders. With circling, feints, embraces, throws, advances, and retreats, they continually countered each other’s moves. By lifting, raising, shaking, and holding, each sought to overpower the other, exerting their full strength. Observing this contest, all the women assembled there, O King, spoke among themselves in groups, their hearts filled with compassion. “Alas,” they said, “what great injustice is this in the king’s assembly, that such a contest of strength and weakness is desired before the king, as he looks on! How can these wrestlers, with bodies hard as thunderbolts and resembling mountains, 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. A wise person should not enter such an assembly, for whether he speaks or remains silent, even an ignorant man incurs sin.” They gazed at Krishna’s lotus-like face, covered with sweat from exertion as he faced his enemy, like a lotus bud moistened with water. “Why do you not see Rāma’s face,” they cried, “with copper-red eyes, adorned with a smile and the flush of anger, shining as he confronts Muṣṭika?” “Blessed indeed are the lands of Vraja,” they sighed, “where this ancient Person, concealed in human form and adorned with garlands of forest flowers, tends the cows with Balarāma, playing his flute, his feet worshipped by the beloved of the mountain lord, delighting in various pastimes.” Thus unfolded the divine spectacle in the arena, as Krishna and Balarāma prepared to reveal their glory before all.