As Kaṃsa, intoxicated by his own power, boasted before the assembly, the imperishable Lord—now filled with righteous anger—rose up swiftly and leapt onto the high platform where Kaṃsa sat. Sensing the approach of his own doom, Kaṃsa, resolute in the face of fate, sprang from his seat and seized his shield and sword, determined to defend himself. He began to move about with great speed, circling right and left like a hawk in the sky, sword flashing. But the Lord, whose energy is fierce and irresistible, closed in on him. In a single, forceful motion, he seized Kaṃsa as Garuḍa would seize a serpent. Grabbing Kaṃsa by the hair, his royal crown tumbling, the Lord hurled him down from the high platform onto the arena floor. Then, the lotus-naveled Lord, the refuge and sustainer of all, leapt down upon Kaṃsa from above. Hari dragged Kaṃsa’s lifeless body across the ground, as one would drag a fallen elephant, while the whole world looked on in awe and astonishment. A great cry of “Alas! Alas!” rose from the people who witnessed this momentous event. Throughout his life, Kaṃsa’s mind had been consumed by anxiety—whether eating, speaking, moving, sleeping, or even breathing, he saw before him the Lord wielding his discus. Now, at the end, Kaṃsa attained that very form of the Lord, which is so difficult to attain. Kaṃsa’s eight brothers—Kaṅka, Nyagrodhaka, and the others—overcome with rage, rushed forward to avenge their fallen brother. But then Rohiṇī’s son, Balarāma, moved with great speed and struck them down with his mighty club, just as a lion would strike down wild beasts. At that moment, drums resounded in the heavens. The divine beings, led by Brahmā and Śiva, were filled with delight. They showered flowers upon the Lord, offered praise, and the celestial women danced in joy. Meanwhile, the wives of Kaṃsa and his brothers, overwhelmed with grief, approached the arena. Beating their heads and weeping, their eyes brimming with tears, they embraced the bodies of their beloveds as they lay upon the heroes’ beds, lamenting in sweet, sorrowful voices and pouring out their sorrow again and again. They cried: “Alas, lord, beloved, knower of righteousness, compassionate protector of the helpless! With you slain, we, our children, and our 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, this is the very source of creation and dissolution; and as protector, one who disregards this never attains happiness anywhere.” Moved by their grief, the Lord, creator of the worlds, comforted the royal women and performed for the slain the customary funeral rites. Then, having freed his mother and father from their bonds, Kṛṣṇa and Rāma bowed before them, touching their feet with their heads in reverence. Devakī and Vasudeva, recognizing their sons as the very Lords of the universe, received their homage without fear and embraced them with deep love. Perceiving that the hearts of his parents were now fulfilled, the Supreme Person, Kṛṣṇa, cast his own divine illusion, saying, “Do not grieve,” and thus bewildered the minds of the people. Approaching his parents with his elder brother, the best of the Sātvatas, he bowed respectfully and addressed them with affection, calling them “Mother” and “Father” to please them. He spoke: “O Father, 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. Therefore, O Father and Mother, you should forgive us, who were dependent and much afflicted by a cruel-hearted man, for not serving you.” Hearing these words of Hari, the Soul of the universe who had taken a human form through his divine power, Devakī and Vasudeva were overwhelmed. Lifting their sons onto their laps and embracing them, they were filled with unbounded joy. Their eyes overflowed with tears, and, choked with emotion, they could say nothing, their minds lost in wonder and love. Having thus comforted his parents, Kṛṣṇa, the son of Devakī, installed his maternal grandfather Ugrasena as king over the Yadus. He said, “O great king, you should command us and the people; because of Yayāti’s curse, the Yadus must not sit on the royal throne. When I, your servant, am present, even the gods and others bow down and offer tribute—what then of other human kings?” All their relatives—the Yadus, Vrishnis, Andhakas, Madhus, Dasharhas, Kukuras, and others—who had been scattered and distressed in every direction by fear of Kaṃsa, were honored by Kṛṣṇa. He comforted those wearied by exile, settled them in their own homes, and generously provided them with wealth. Now protected by the strong arms of Kṛṣṇa and Balarāma, their cherished wishes fulfilled, the people lived happily in their homes, free from all distress. Day after day, they delighted in gazing upon the radiant, lotus-like face of Mukunda, ever beautiful and beaming with a compassionate smile. Even the elders appeared youthful and vigorous, drinking again and again with their eyes the nectar of Mukunda’s face. Then, O King, the Lord, son of Devakī, together with Balarāma, approached Nanda and embraced him warmly, speaking these heartfelt words: “By you, our affectionate father, we were cherished and deeply cared for; indeed, parents have even greater love for their children than for themselves. That father and mother who nurture children abandoned by relatives and unable to care for themselves, do so as if they were their own sons.” Thus, the Lord honored those who had loved and protected him, fulfilling all righteousness and restoring joy to the hearts of his people.