As the fierce wrestling match unfolded, Cāṇūra was struck again and again by the powerful blows of the Lord’s limbs—each impact as harsh as the grinding of thunderbolts. His body battered and his strength waning, Cāṇūra became exhausted. Yet, with the swiftness of a hawk, he leapt up, clenched both fists, and, burning with anger, struck Vāsudeva, the Lord, directly on the chest. But the Lord stood unmoved, as if an elephant had been struck by a garland. Seizing Cāṇūra by the arms, Hari spun him around repeatedly, then dashed him violently to the ground. Cāṇūra’s life was nearly gone; his hair and garland scattered as he fell, like Indra’s banner collapsing. In the same way, Muṣṭika was struck forcefully by the mighty fist of Balabhadra and then severely hit with his palm. Muṣṭika trembled, blood pouring from his mouth, tormented by pain. His life departed, and he collapsed to the ground like a tree felled by the wind. Next, Rāma, the best among fighters, effortlessly slew Kūṭa, who had approached him, with a contemptuous blow of his left fist. At that very moment, Śala—his head struck by Kṛṣṇa’s foot—and Tośalaka, both split in two, fell to the ground. With Cāṇūra, Muṣṭika, Kūṭa, Śala, and Tośalaka slain, the remaining wrestlers, fearing for their lives, fled the arena. Gathering their cowherd friends, Kṛṣṇa and Rāma played joyfully with them, dancing as the musical instruments sounded and their anklets rang. All the people rejoiced at the deeds of Rāma and Kṛṣṇa. Except for Kaṃsa, 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 musicians and, in fury, issued commands: “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 Kaṃsa thus boasted, the imperishable Lord, enraged, leapt up swiftly and mounted the high platform. Seeing him approach—his very death—Kaṃsa, resolute, sprang up from his seat and seized his shield and sword. Wielding his sword, Kaṃsa moved about swiftly, like a hawk circling in the sky. But the Lord, whose energy was irresistible and fierce, seized him forcefully, as Garuḍa would seize a serpent. Grabbing him by the hair, Kaṃsa’s crown shaking, the Lord threw him down from the high platform onto the arena. Then, 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 would drag an elephant, while all the world looked on. A great cry of “Alas! Alas!” arose from the people. Kaṃsa, whose mind was always anxious—whether eating, speaking, moving, sleeping, or breathing—had always seen before him the Lord with the discus weapon. Thus, at the end, he attained that very form of the Lord, which is difficult to obtain. Kaṃsa’s eight brothers—Kaṅka, Nyagrodhaka, and the rest—rushed forward, enraged and seeking to avenge their brother’s death. Then Rohiṇī’s son, Rāma, with great speed, struck them down, wielding his club as a lion would strike down beasts. Drums resounded in the sky, and the divine powers led by Brahmā and Śiva, delighted, showered flowers upon the Lord, praised Him, and the women danced. The wives of the slain, afflicted with grief at the death of their beloveds, approached, beating their heads and weeping, their eyes filled with tears. Embracing their husbands as they lay upon the heroes’ beds, the women lamented in sweet voices, again and again releasing their sorrow: “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, 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; therefore, 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 continued: The Lord, creator of the worlds, comforted the royal women and performed the customary funeral rites for the slain. Then, releasing His mother and father from their bonds, Kṛṣṇa and Rāma bowed to them, touching their feet with their heads. Devakī and Vasudeva, recognizing their sons as the Lords of the universe, after receiving their reverence, embraced them without fear. Śuka said: The Supreme Person, understanding that His parents’ desires had been fulfilled, spread His own deluding power, saying, “Do not grieve,” bewildering the minds of people. Approaching His parents with His elder brother, the best of the Sātvatas, He bowed respectfully and, to please them, addressed them affectionately as “Mother” and “Father.” “O Father,” He said, “though you and Mother always longed for us, your sons, we were never able to spend our childhood, boyhood, or youth with you. Because fate prevented us, we could not dwell near you; the happiness that children, cherished in their father’s house, usually enjoy, we did not experience. Even if a mortal lives a hundred years, he cannot repay his parents from whom his body, the source of all attainments, is born and nourished. If a son, able in body and wealth, does not provide for the livelihood of his parents, after death he is made to eat his own flesh. One who, while able, neglects his aged mother and father, virtuous wife, young child, teacher, brāhmaṇa, or one who has sought refuge, is as good as dead though living. For us, whose minds were always anxious because of Kaṃsa, these days passed in vain, without worshipping your feet.” Thus, in reverence and affection, Kṛṣṇa and Rāma offered themselves to their parents, fulfilling their duties and expressing the deepest gratitude and devotion.