In the great arena of Mathura, the atmosphere was tense as Krishna and Balarama stood before the assembled wrestlers. Krishna, with humility and wisdom, spoke: “We are but boys and will play only with those of equal strength, as is proper. Let the match be fair, so the assembly of wrestlers may not find fault with us.” But Chanura, the formidable wrestler, scoffed at this claim. He declared, “You are neither a child nor a youth. You are the foremost among the strong! By your play, you slew the mighty elephant Kuvalayapida, who bore the strength of a thousand. Therefore, you must wrestle with the strong; there is no evasion here. Let Mushtika contend with Balarama, and let me, O descendant of Vrishni, match my strength with yours.” Thus concluded the chapter recounting the slaying of Kuvalayapida, marking a turning point in the tale. Śuka, the sage, continued: With their resolve honored, Lord Madhusudana—Krishna—along with Balarama, approached Chanura and Mushtika. The pairs locked hands and feet, forcefully dragging each other, each eager for victory. They struck with fists, knees, heads, chests, and shoulders, their bodies clashing in a fierce contest. Their movements were swift and skillful—circling, feinting, embracing, throwing, advancing, retreating—constantly countering each other. They lifted, raised, shook, and held, each striving to overpower the other, exerting their full strength. As the contest unfolded, the women gathered in the arena, O King, spoke among themselves in groups, their voices filled with compassion. “Alas, what injustice is this in the king’s assembly?” they cried. “How can such a contest of strength and weakness be desired before the king, as he looks on? These wrestlers, with bodies hard as thunderbolts and resembling mountain peaks, are 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, remembering the faults of its members; whether he speaks or remains silent, an ignorant man incurs sin.” Their eyes turned to Krishna, whose lotus-like face was covered with sweat from exertion as he faced his enemy, like a lotus bud moistened with water. They also gazed at Rama, whose copper-red eyes, adorned with a smile and the flush of anger, shone as he confronted Mushtika. The women remembered the blessed lands of Vraja, where this ancient Person, concealed in human form and adorned with garlands of forest flowers, tended the cows with Balarama, playing his flute, his feet worshipped by the beloved of the mountain lord, delighting in various pastimes. They wondered, “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?” Fortunate indeed were the women of Vraja, whose minds were devoted to the mighty Lord. With voices choked by tears, they sang of him while milking cows, gathering dung, churning, smearing floors, swinging their children, or sweeping—whatever their work. Morning and evening, as he left for the pastures or returned with the cows, playing his flute, the blessed young women quickly came 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 their sons’ true strength. The wrestling continued, with Krishna and his opponent using every technique, just as Balarama and Mushtika did. Struck by the blows of the Lord’s limbs, harsh as the grinding of thunderbolts, Chanura’s body was repeatedly battered and he became exhausted. With the speed of a hawk, Chanura leapt up, clenched both his fists, and angrily struck Lord Vasudeva on the chest. Krishna did not move at that blow, like an elephant struck by a garland; seizing Chanura by the arms, Hari spun him around many times. He dashed him violently to the ground, his life nearly gone; his hair and garland scattered, Chanura fell like Indra’s banner collapsing. In the same way, Mushtika was first struck forcefully by the mighty Balabhadra’s fist, then severely hit with his palm. He 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. At that very moment, Shala, his head struck by Krishna’s foot, and Toshala, both split in two, fell down. With Chanura, Mushtika, Kuta, Shala, and Toshala slain, the remaining wrestlers, desiring to save their lives, fled. Gathering their cowherd friends, Krishna and Balarama played joyfully with them as musical instruments sounded, their anklets ringing 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 was agitated, he stopped his own musicians and spoke harsh words: “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, enraged, leapt up swiftly and mounted the high platform. Seeing Krishna approaching—death itself for him—Kamsa, resolute, sprang up suddenly from his seat and seized his shield and sword. Wielding his sword, Kamsa moved about swiftly, like a hawk circling right and left in the sky. But Krishna, irresistible and fierce, seized him forcefully, as Garuda would seize a serpent. Thus, the drama of the arena reached its climax, with Krishna and Balarama triumphing over the wicked and restoring righteousness.