O noble one, witness the calamity that has befallen the Yadus, said the Lord of those who had descended to earth. The chariot stood ready, along with the beloved weapons. Indeed, for this very purpose had they been born—to bring happiness to the virtuous and to remove the burden of the earth, the vast armies that oppressed her. Thus, after consulting together, the two sons of Dasharha—resolute and armed for battle since ancient times—set out, equipped with their weapons. They were accompanied by only a small force, yet their determination was unwavering. Hari, with Daruka as his charioteer, blew his mighty conch as they departed. The sound echoed, and in the hearts of the enemy soldiers arose terror and trembling. When the king of Magadha saw them, he mocked, “O Krishna, lowest of men, I do not wish to fight with you, a mere boy, out of shame; nor with you, who hide behind others—go away, destroyer of kin, I will not fight you. But you, Rama, if you have faith, fight and show your courage; either abandon your body, cut down by my arrows, and ascend to heaven, or kill me.” The Blessed Lord replied, “Truly, heroes do not boast; they simply display their valor. We do not heed the words of one who is distressed and facing death, O King.” Then, as Shuka narrated, the son of Jara rushed at the two Madhavas, surrounding them with a mighty host—chariots, elephants, horses, and banners—like the wind enveloping the sun and fire with clouds of dust. The women of the city, seeing the two chariots of Hari and Rama bearing the emblems of Garuda and the palm tree in the midst of battle, fled in fear and confusion to the ancient towers, palaces, and gateways. Hari beheld his own army—honored by gods and demons—being afflicted again and again by the fierce rain of arrows from the enemy. He responded by sounding his supreme Sharnga bow with a thunderous twang. Drawing arrows from his quiver, he loosed volleys of sharp shafts, striking down chariots, elephants, horses, and foot soldiers. The whirling discus never left his hand. Elephants with shattered tusks fell in great numbers; horses, their necks severed by arrows, collapsed; chariots, with their horses, banners, drivers, and leaders slain, and foot soldiers with arms, thighs, and necks cut, lay scattered across the field. As the limbs of elephants, horses, and men were severed, rivers of blood flowed in hundreds—filled with arms, horse heads, human skulls, and turtle-like torsos—crowded with the corpses of the slain. These rivers of blood had waves of arms, hair as waterweeds, bows as currents, and were choked with clusters of weapons. Terrifying whirlpools formed from spinning swords, and they sparkled with gems, pearls, ornaments, and stones. In that terrible battle, Sankarshana, of immeasurable brilliance and wielding his mace, struck down the arrogant foes, causing terror among the timid and joy among the brave, as the warriors destroyed each other. That vast and dreadful army, guarded by the king of Magadha and seemingly insurmountable like a sea of fire, was utterly destroyed by the sons of Vasudeva, whose play in the world is supreme. He whose power brings about the creation, maintenance, and destruction of the three worlds by his own play—there is nothing remarkable in his subduing of enemies; yet, for the sake of mortals, it is described. Rama seized Jarasandha, mighty though he was, after his chariot was destroyed and his army slain, just as a lion seizes another lion, overpowering him by sheer strength. But Govinda stopped him from being bound with human and Varuna’s ropes, after his enemies had been slain, in order to accomplish a certain purpose. Freed by the Lords of the world, Jarasandha—esteemed among heroes—felt ashamed and, resolved upon penance, was blocked on the road by the kings. With words of pure meaning, and even by mere glances, this defeat befell him through the Yadus, as a result of his own actions. With all his forces destroyed, the king of the Barhadratha line was disregarded by the Blessed One and departed for Magadha, his mind troubled. Mukunda, with his strength unscathed and having crossed the ocean of enemy forces, was showered with flowers and praised by the gods. The people of Mathura, now free from distress and joyful in spirit, approached him; his victory was sung by charioteers, bards, and minstrels. Conch shells and drums resounded, many trumpets and horns were played, as the Lord entered the city, accompanied by lyres, flutes, and mridangas. The streets were sprinkled, the people rejoiced, adorned with flags, echoing with the sound of Vedic chants, and festooned with decorated gateways. He was honored by women with garlands, yogurt, and sprouting grains, and gazed upon with loving, eager eyes. All the wealth, endless and adorned with the ornaments of heroes, gained in battle, was brought and presented by the Lord to the king of the Yadus. Yet, the king of Magadha, with a force as great as seventeen akshauhinis, fought repeatedly with the Yadus, who were protected by Krishna. The Vṛṣṇis, empowered by Krishna’s brilliance, destroyed all that force. When his own troops were slain, the king was abandoned by his allies and departed. When the eighteenth battle was about to occur, a hero sent by Narada—a Yavana—appeared in the midst. This foreigner besieged Mathura with three million barbarian troops; in the world of men, he was unmatched, having heard of the Vṛṣṇis, his equals. Seeing this, Krishna, accompanied by Sankarshana, thought, “Alas, a great calamity has come upon the Yadus from both sides. This Yavana, immensely powerful, is besieging us today; the king of Magadha will arrive either today, tomorrow, or the day after. If Jarasandha comes while we are engaged in battle, he will either kill our kinsmen or, being strong, carry them off to his own city. Therefore, today we shall build a fortress, difficult for men to approach; there, after settling our kinsmen, we will destroy the Yavana.” After due deliberation, the Blessed Lord created a fortress twelve yojanas wide—a wondrous city within the sea. There could be seen the skill of Tvaṣṭṛ, the expert craftsman: its streets, crossroads, and avenues were constructed according to proper architectural principles. It was adorned with celestial trees and gardens, marvelous groves, and towers of gold reaching the sky, with crystal mansions and gateways. Silver and gold turrets shone, treasuries decorated with golden jars, houses crowned with jewels, and great emerald platforms—all proclaimed the city’s splendor.