What extraordinary austerities must the women of Vraja have performed, that they were blessed to behold with their own eyes the supremely beautiful form of Krishna—the essence of all charm, unrivaled and unique, ever-fresh at every moment, difficult for even the gods to attain, the very abode of fame, fortune, and majesty! With their eyes, they drank in his presence, their hearts forever captivated. Fortunate indeed were these women of Vraja, whose minds were wholly devoted to the mighty Lord. Whether milking cows, collecting dung, churning butter, smearing the floors, rocking their children, or sweeping their homes, they sang his glories with voices choked by tears of love, their hearts and thoughts always dwelling on him. Each morning and evening, as Krishna departed for the pastures or returned with the cows, flute in hand, the blessed young women would hurry to the roadside, eager to catch a glimpse of his smiling face and the compassion in his glances. As the women thus spoke among themselves, O best of the Bhāratas, Krishna, the master of yoga and Lord Hari, resolved in his heart to finally slay his enemy. Hearing the anxious words of the women, Krishna and Balarama’s parents, overwhelmed by affection and worry for their sons, suffered terribly, not knowing the true extent of their sons’ strength. Meanwhile, the wrestling match commenced. Krishna, known as Acyuta, and his opponent, Cāṇūra, engaged in a fierce contest, displaying all the techniques of wrestling, just as Balarama grappled with Muṣṭika. Cāṇūra’s body was battered again and again by the thunderbolt-like blows of Krishna’s limbs. Exhausted and battered, Cāṇūra, with the speed of a hawk, leapt up, clenched his fists, and struck Krishna hard upon the chest. Yet Krishna did not move, as an elephant is unshaken by a garland thrown upon it. Seizing Cāṇūra by the arms, Krishna spun him round and round, then dashed him violently to the ground. His life nearly gone, hair and garland scattered, Cāṇūra fell like Indra’s banner collapsing. In the same way, Muṣṭika was struck powerfully by the mighty fist of Balarama, and then hit with his open palm. Blood poured from Muṣṭika’s mouth as he trembled, his life departing; he collapsed to the ground like a tree felled by a mighty wind. Then the mighty Balarama, best among fighters, effortlessly slew Kūṭa, who had come forward, with a contemptuous blow of his left fist. In that very moment, Krishna struck Śala on the head with his foot, and Tośalaka as well; both were split in two and fell to the ground. With Cāṇūra, Muṣṭika, Kūṭa, Śala, and Tośalaka all slain, the remaining wrestlers, fearing for their lives, fled the arena. Gathering their cowherd friends, Krishna and Balarama joyfully played and danced, their anklets ringing and the music playing in celebration. All the people rejoiced at the heroic deeds of Rama and Krishna. The foremost brāhmaṇas and the virtuous exclaimed, “Well done! Well done!” All rejoiced—except for Kaṃsa. When the best of his wrestlers were slain and Kaṃsa, king of the Bhojas, was filled with agitation, he stopped the music and commanded, “Expel these two wicked sons of Vasudeva from the city! Seize the wealth of the cowherds! Bind Nanda, that evil-minded man! Kill Vasudeva and the best of horses at once! And slay Ugrasena, my father, who sides with the enemy, along with all his followers!” As Kaṃsa thus raged and boasted, the imperishable Lord, now angered, leapt swiftly onto the high platform. Seeing Krishna approach—the very face of death for himself—Kaṃsa sprang up from his seat, seizing his sword and shield. He moved about swiftly, circling like a hawk in the sky, but Krishna, of irresistible and fierce energy, seized him as Garuḍa might seize a serpent. Grabbing Kaṃsa by the hair, his crown shaking, Krishna hurled him down from the high platform into the arena. Then, the lotus-naveled Lord, the very refuge of the universe, leapt down upon him. Dragging Kaṃsa’s lifeless body across the ground as one would drag an elephant, Krishna did this in full view of all. A great cry of “Alas! Alas!” arose from the people. Throughout his life, Kaṃsa’s mind had been anxious and fearful, haunted by the thought of Krishna—whether eating, speaking, moving, sleeping, or breathing, he saw before him the Lord with the discus. Thus, at the end, he attained that very form, so difficult to attain. Kaṃsa’s eight brothers—Kaṅka, Nyagrodhaka, and the rest—rushed forward, furious and seeking revenge. But Balarama, swift as the wind, struck them down with his club, as a lion fells lesser beasts. Drums resounded in the heavens. The divine powers, led by Brahmā and Śiva, rejoiced, showering flowers upon Krishna and Balarama, praising them as the women danced in celebration. Yet the wives of the slain men, stricken with grief, approached, beating their heads and weeping. Embracing their husbands as they lay 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. “Without you, our husband, this city—O best of men—is bereft of beauty, just as we are, with all festivals and auspiciousness ended. “You have committed a grievous wrong against innocent beings; O slayer of creatures, who, having brought us to this state, can find peace? “For all beings here, this indeed is the source of creation and dissolution; and as the protector, one who disregards this never attains happiness anywhere.” Śuka said: The Lord, creator of all worlds, comforted the royal women and performed the customary funeral rites for the slain, as is proper in this world. Then, having freed his mother and father from their bonds, Krishna and Balarama bowed before them, touching their feet with their heads. Devakī and Vasudeva, recognizing their sons as the Lords of the universe, received their reverence and, now free from fear, embraced them with love. Śuka continued: The Supreme Person, understanding that his parents’ deepest wishes had now been fulfilled, spread his own divine illusion, saying “Do not grieve,” thus bewildering the minds of all people. Approaching his parents with his elder brother, the best of the Sātvatas, Krishna bowed respectfully and, to please them, addressed them with affection as “Mother” and “Father.