As Kaṃsa saw his death approaching in the form of Kṛṣṇa, he sprang up from his seat, resolute and alert, seizing his sword and shield. Wielding his weapon, Kaṃsa moved swiftly about the arena, circling with the speed and intensity of a hawk gliding through the sky. Yet, Kṛṣṇa, whose energy was irresistible and fierce, closed in upon him. With the suddenness and power of Garuḍa seizing a serpent, Kṛṣṇa grasped Kaṃsa by the hair, causing his crown to tremble and fall askew. In one motion, he hurled Kaṃsa down from the high platform onto the arena floor. Then, the Lord himself—lotus-naveled, the refuge of the universe, self-sustained—leapt down upon him from above. With Kaṃsa’s life extinguished, Hari dragged his lifeless body across the ground, as if one were dragging a great elephant, while the whole world looked on in awe and shock. A great cry of “Alas! Alas!” rose from the assembled people, echoing through the arena. Kaṃsa, whose mind had been perpetually anxious—whether eating, speaking, moving, sleeping, or even breathing—had always seen before him the Lord armed with the discus. Now, in death, he attained that very form of the Lord, a state most difficult to attain. Enraged by their brother’s death, Kaṃsa’s eight brothers—Kaṅka, Nyagrodhaka, and the rest—rushed forward, determined to avenge him. But Balarāma, the son of Rohiṇī, moved with great speed and struck them down with his mighty club, as a lion strikes down lesser beasts. At that moment, drums resounded in the heavens, and the divine beings, led by Brahmā and Śiva, rejoiced. Delighted, they showered flowers upon the Lord, praised him, and celestial women danced in celebration. Meanwhile, the wives of Kaṃsa and his brothers, overwhelmed with grief at the loss of their beloveds, approached the arena. Beating their heads in sorrow, their eyes streaming with tears, they embraced the bodies of their husbands as they lay upon the heroes’ beds, lamenting in sweet, plaintive 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 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 all worlds, comforted the grieving royal women and performed for the slain the customary funeral rites according to worldly tradition. Then, having freed his mother Devakī and father Vasudeva from their bonds, Kṛṣṇa and Balarāma bowed to them, touching their feet with their heads in deep reverence. Devakī and Vasudeva, recognizing their sons as the very Lords of the universe, received their homage and, now free from fear, embraced them with love. Śuka said: The Supreme Person, seeing that his parents’ deepest wishes had been fulfilled, spread his own divine power of illusion, soothing them with gentle words—“Do not grieve”—and bewildered the minds of all people. Approaching his parents with his elder brother, the best of the Sātvatas, Kṛṣṇa bowed respectfully and, to please them, addressed them tenderly as “Mother” and “Father.” He said, “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.” Śuka said: By these words of Hari, the Soul of the universe, who had taken a human form through his divine power, Devakī and Vasudeva were enchanted. Lifting Kṛṣṇa onto their laps and embracing him, they were filled with joy. Tears streamed from their eyes, and bound by the ties of deep affection, they could say nothing—their throats choked with emotion, their minds overwhelmed. Having thus comforted his parents, the son of Devakī, the Lord, installed Ugrasena, his maternal grandfather, 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 and kin—the Yadus, Vrishnis, Andhakas, Madhus, Dasharhas, Kukuras, and others—who had been distressed in every direction by fear of Kaṃsa, were honored by the Lord. Kṛṣṇa comforted those wearied by exile in foreign lands, settled them in their own homes, and generously provided them with wealth. Protected by the mighty arms of Kṛṣṇa and Sankarṣaṇa, their cherished wishes fulfilled, the people lived happily in their homes, freed from all distress. Day after day, they delighted in gazing upon the lotus face of Mukunda, always radiant, beautiful, and beaming with a compassionate smile. Even the elders seemed youthful and vigorous, repeatedly drinking with their eyes the nectar of Mukunda’s lotus-like face. Then, O King, the Lord, son of Devakī, along with Sankarṣaṇa, approached Nanda and warmly embraced him. Speaking with affection, Kṛṣṇa said, “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. Please, father, return to Vraja; we will come to see you and our dear relatives, who are pained by affection, after ensuring the happiness of our friends here.