A wise person, it is said, should avoid entering an assembly while dwelling on the faults of its members, for whether he speaks or remains silent, an ignorant man is bound to incur sin. In the midst of such considerations, the people’s attention was drawn to Krishna himself. His lotus-like face, glistening with sweat from the exertion of battle, shone forth—like a tender lotus bud moistened with dew—as he confronted his enemy. Why, some wondered, did others not fix their gaze upon Rama’s face, his eyes copper-red, adorned with a smile and the flush of righteous anger, as he stood radiant before Muṣṭika? Blessed, indeed, are the lands of Vraja, where this ancient, hidden Person, Krishna, adorned with garlands of wild forest flowers, tended the cows alongside Balarāma. There, he played his flute, his feet worshipped by the beloved of the mountain lord, delighting in many sweet pastimes. What extraordinary austerities must the cowherd women have performed, that they could feast their eyes upon his form—the very essence of beauty, ever fresh, unparalleled, difficult to attain, and the single abode of all fame, fortune, and majesty? Fortunate are the women of Vraja, whose hearts and minds are wholly devoted to the mighty Lord. With voices choked by tears of love, they sang of him even as they milked cows, gathered dung, churned butter, smeared floors, swung their children, or swept—whatever their daily work might be. Morning and evening, as Krishna left for the pastures or returned with the cows, playing his flute, the blessed young women would hurry to the path, eager to catch a glimpse of his smiling face and compassionate glances. As the women thus spoke among themselves, O best of the Bhāratas, Lord Hari—the master of yoga—resolved in his heart to destroy his enemy. Hearing the fearful words of the women, Krishna and Balarāma’s parents were overcome with distress, their hearts wrung with love and anxiety for their sons, not knowing the true extent of their strength. The wrestling matches began in earnest. Krishna (Acyuta) and his opponent engaged each other with every technique of the sport, as did Balarāma and Muṣṭika. The mighty blows delivered by Krishna’s limbs struck Cāṇūra with the force of thunderbolts, battering his body until he was exhausted. With the swiftness of a hawk, Cāṇūra leapt up, anger blazing, and struck Krishna on the chest with both fists. Yet Krishna did not move, as if an elephant had been struck by a mere garland. Seizing Cāṇūra by the arms, Hari spun him around again and again, then dashed him violently to the ground. With his hair and garland scattered, Cāṇūra fell, his life almost spent, like Indra’s banner collapsing to the earth. In similar fashion, Muṣṭika was struck first by the powerful fist of Balarāma and then severely with his palm. Blood poured from Muṣṭika’s mouth as he trembled, tormented; his life departed, and he collapsed like a great tree felled by the wind. Next, Rāma, best among fighters, slew Kūṭa with a contemptuous blow of his left fist. At that very moment, Śala, struck on the head by Krishna’s foot, and Tośalaka, both split in two, fell to the ground. With Cāṇūra, Muṣṭika, Kūṭa, Śala, and Tośalaka all slain, the remaining wrestlers, fearing for their lives, fled the arena. Krishna and Balarāma gathered their cowherd friends and played joyfully as the music resounded and their anklets rang out in dance. All the people rejoiced at the deed of Rama and Krishna; only Kaṃsa was displeased, while the foremost brāhmaṇas and the virtuous exclaimed, “Well done! Well done!” When the best of the wrestlers were slain and Kaṃsa, king of the Bhojas, was deeply agitated, he silenced his musicians and declared in anger: “Expel from the city those wicked sons of Vasudeva! Seize the wealth of the cowherds! Bind Nanda, that evil-minded man! Kill Vasudeva at once, along with the finest horses! And slay Ugrasena, my father, who sides with the enemy, along with his followers!” As Kaṃsa raged and issued commands, the imperishable Lord Krishna, now angered, leapt swiftly onto the high platform. Seeing Krishna, who was death itself for him, Kaṃsa sprang up from his seat, seizing his shield and sword. He moved about with sword in hand, swift as a hawk circling the sky, but Krishna, whose energy could not be resisted, seized him forcefully, as Garuda would seize a serpent. Grabbing Kaṃsa by the hair, his crown shaking, Krishna threw him down from the high platform onto the arena below, and the lotus-naveled Lord himself, the refuge of the universe, fell upon him from above. Hari dragged Kaṃsa’s lifeless body across the ground, as one might drag a fallen elephant, while all the world looked on, and a great cry of “Alas! Alas!” arose from the people. Kaṃsa, whose mind had always been filled with anxiety—whether eating, speaking, moving, sleeping, or breathing—had constantly seen before him the Lord with the discus weapon. Thus, at death, he attained that very form of the Lord, which is so difficult to attain. Kaṃsa’s eight brothers—Kaṅka, Nyagrodhaka, and the rest—rushed forward in great rage, seeking to avenge their brother’s death. But Rohiṇī’s son, Balarāma, struck them down with his club, as a lion would smite beasts. Drums resounded in the sky, and the divine powers, led by Brahmā and Śiva, delighted, showered flowers upon Krishna and Balarāma, praised them, and the celestial women danced in joy. Meanwhile, the wives of the slain, hearts broken with grief, approached, beating their heads and weeping. Embracing their fallen husbands upon the heroes’ beds, they lamented in sweet voices, pouring out their sorrow again and again: “Alas, lord, beloved, knower of righteousness, compassionate protector of the helpless! With you slain, we and our children and households are destroyed. Deprived of you, our husband, this city is bereft of beauty, just as we are, with all festivals and auspiciousness ended. You have committed a grievous wrong against innocent beings; therefore, O slayer of creatures, who, having brought us to this state, can find peace?” They mourned, for all beings here are bound by creation and dissolution, and as protector, one who disregards this never attains happiness anywhere. Then Śuka said: The Lord, creator of the worlds, comforted the royal women and performed for the slain the customary funeral rites, as is proper in this world.