Hearing the words spoken, Krishna responded with calm confidence, his speech perfectly suited to the moment and place. He welcomed the challenge of wrestling, for this was indeed his heart’s desire. “We, the subjects of King Bhoja, and we forest-dwellers as well,” he declared, “will always act in ways that please him; serving him is our greatest favor.” He continued, “We are but boys and will compete only with those equal in strength, as is proper. Let the match be fair, so that the assembly of wrestlers cannot blame us for any wrongdoing.” But Chanura, one of the chief wrestlers, replied, “You are neither a child nor a youth. You are the foremost among the strong—for by your play, the mighty elephant, whose strength equaled a thousand, was slain.” Chanura insisted, “Therefore, you two must wrestle with the strongest. There is no avoiding this. Let Mushtika face Balarama, and let me, O descendant of Vrishni, test my strength against yours.” Thus concludes the forty-third chapter, “The Slaying of Kuvalayapida,” in the first half of the tenth book of the Śrīmad Bhāgavatam, the great Purāṇa, scripture for the paramahamsas. Śuka continued: With their resolve acknowledged, Lord Madhusudana, Krishna, and the son of Rohini, Balarama, stepped forward to face Chanura and Mushtika. They locked hands and feet, each dragging the other with force, eager for victory. The wrestlers struck each other with fists, knees, heads, chests, and shoulders, their bodies clashing in fierce combat. They circled each other, feinted, embraced, threw, advanced and retreated, countering move with move. Lifting, raising, shaking, and holding, each sought to overpower the other, exerting their full strength. Watching this intense contest, all the women gathered there, O King, spoke among themselves with compassion, forming groups. “Alas,” they cried, “what 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, whose bodies are hard as thunderbolts and resemble mountain peaks, be matched against these two youths, so delicate and not yet fully grown?” They lamented, “Surely this assembly will incur a breach of righteousness, for where unrighteousness arises, one should never remain. A wise person should not enter an assembly, remembering the faults of its members; whether he speaks or is silent, an ignorant man incurs sin.” Some pointed out, “See Krishna’s lotus-like face, covered with sweat from exertion as he faces his enemy, like a lotus bud moistened with water. Why do you not see Rama’s face, with copper-red eyes, adorned with a smile and the flush of anger, shining as he confronts Mushtika?” Others praised, “Blessed indeed are the lands of Vraja, where this ancient Person, concealed in human form and adorned with garlands of forest flowers, tends the cows with Balarama, playing his flute, his feet worshipped by the beloved of the mountain lord, delighting in various pastimes. What austerities did the cowherd women perform, that they could see his form—the very essence of beauty, peerless and unique, ever fresh at every moment, difficult to attain, the sole abode of fame, fortune, and majesty—drinking it in with their eyes?” They continued, “Fortunate are the women of Vraja, whose minds are devoted to the mighty Lord, who, with voices choked by tears, sing of him while milking cows, gathering dung, churning, smearing floors, swinging their children, or sweeping—whatever their work. Morning and evening, as he leaves for the pastures or returns with the cows, playing his flute, the blessed young women quickly come out onto the path to see his smiling face and compassionate glances.” As the women spoke thus, O best of the Bhāratas, the Lord, master of yoga, Hari, resolved in his mind to slay his enemy. Hearing the fearful words of the women, the parents, distressed by affection and grief for their sons, suffered greatly, unaware of the true strength of Krishna and Balarama. Meanwhile, Krishna and his opponent, as well as Balarama and Mushtika, fought with all the techniques of wrestling. Struck by the blows of the Lord’s limbs, harsh as the grinding of thunderbolts, Chanura’s body was battered again and again, and he became exhausted. With the speed of a hawk, Chanura leapt up, clenched both his fists, and angrily struck Vasudeva, the Lord, on the chest. Krishna did not move at the blow, like an elephant struck by a garland. Seizing Chanura by the arms, Hari spun him around many times and dashed him violently to the ground. Chanura’s life nearly gone, his hair and garland scattered, he fell like Indra’s banner collapsing. In the same way, Mushtika was struck forcefully by the mighty Balabhadra’s fist, and then severely hit with his palm. Mushtika trembled, blood pouring from his mouth, tormented; his life departed, and he collapsed on the ground like a tree felled by the wind. Then Rama, best among fighters, effortlessly slew Kuta, who had approached, with a contemptuous blow of his left fist, O King. At that moment, Shala, his head struck by Krishna’s foot, and Toshalaka, both split in two, fell down. With Chanura, Mushtika, Kuta, Shala, and Toshalaka slain, all the remaining wrestlers, desiring to save their lives, fled. Drawing their cowherd friends together, Krishna and Balarama joyfully played with them as musical instruments sounded and their anklets rang as they danced. All the people rejoiced at the deeds of Rama and Krishna; except for Kamsa, the foremost brāhmaṇas and the virtuous exclaimed, “Well done! Well done!” When the best of the wrestlers were slain and the king of the Bhojas, Kamsa, was agitated, he stopped his own musicians and spoke angrily: “Expel from the city those two wicked sons of Vasudeva; seize the wealth of the cowherds; bind Nanda, that evil-minded man. Let Vasudeva, that wicked-minded one, be killed at once, along with the best of horses; and Ugrasena, my father, who sides with the enemy, along with his followers.” As Kamsa thus boasted, the imperishable one, Krishna, enraged, leapt up swiftly and mounted the high platform.