In the great battle that ensued, Sankarshana—of immeasurable brilliance—wielded his mighty mace and struck down the arrogant enemies. His valor sent waves of terror through the timid, while the brave rejoiced, even as the warriors on both sides destroyed each other in the fierce conflict. The army they faced was vast and dreadful, like a sea of blazing fire, guarded by the formidable king of Magadha and seemingly impossible to overcome. Yet, the sons of Vasudeva—whose divine play is supreme in the world—utterly destroyed this force. For one whose power is limitless, who creates, sustains, and dissolves the three worlds by his own playful will, subduing mere enemies is not remarkable; still, such deeds are described for the understanding of mortals. When Jarasandha’s chariot was shattered and his army slain, mighty Balarama seized him with the strength and ease of a lion overpowering another lion. But as Balarama was about to bind Jarasandha with human and Varuna’s ropes, Krishna—Govinda—stopped him, for he had another purpose to fulfill. Freed by the Lords of the world, Jarasandha, esteemed among heroes, felt the shame of defeat. Resolving to undertake penance, he found his path blocked by the assembled kings. It was by the pure words and even the mere glances of the Yadus that this defeat befell him—truly, the result of his own past actions. With his entire force destroyed, the king of the Barhadratha line was ignored by the Blessed One and returned, troubled in mind, to Magadha. Meanwhile, Mukunda—his strength undiminished, having crossed the ocean of enemy forces—was showered with flowers and praised by the gods. The people of Mathura, their distress gone and their hearts filled with joy, gathered to greet him. Charioteers, bards, and minstrels sang of his victory. Conch shells and drums resounded, trumpets and horns blared, and as the Lord entered the city, he was accompanied by the sweet music of lyres, flutes, and mridangas. The city’s streets had been sprinkled with water, the people were jubilant, flags adorned every corner, Vedic chants filled the air, and archways were beautifully decorated. Women honored Krishna with garlands, yogurt, and sprouting grains, gazing upon him with loving, eager eyes. All the wealth gained in battle—endless and adorned with the ornaments of fallen heroes—was brought and presented by the Lord to the king of the Yadus. Yet, Jarasandha, king of Magadha, was undeterred. With a force as great as seventeen akshauhinis, he fought again and again with the Yadus, who were ever protected by Krishna. Empowered by Krishna’s brilliance, the Vrishnis destroyed all his armies, and when his own troops were slain, Jarasandha was abandoned by his allies and departed. When the eighteenth battle was about to begin, a hero sent by Narada—the Yavana—appeared in their midst. This foreign king besieged Mathura with three million barbarian soldiers. In the world of men, he was unmatched, and having heard of the Vrishnis, he came seeking their equals. Seeing this, Krishna, with Sankarshana by his side, thought, “Alas! A great calamity has come upon the Yadus from both sides. The Yavana, immensely powerful, is besieging us today, and the king of Magadha may arrive at any moment. If Jarasandha comes while we are engaged in battle, he might either kill our kinsmen or, being strong, carry them off to his own city. Therefore, today we must build a fortress that is difficult for men to approach. There, after settling our kin safely, we will destroy the Yavana.” After due deliberation, the Blessed Lord created a wondrous fortress twelve yojanas wide—a city within the sea, marvelous to behold. Its streets, crossroads, and avenues were constructed with the skill of Tvaṣṭṛ, following the highest architectural principles. The city was adorned with celestial trees and gardens, marvelous groves, and golden towers that reached the sky, with crystal mansions and gateways. Silver and gold turrets gleamed, treasuries decorated with golden jars, houses crowned with jewels, and great emerald platforms abounded. Within this city stood the houses of the guardians of the quarters and the residences of beloved women. It was filled with people of all four varṇas and shone with the homes of the Yadu gods. Indra sent Sudharmā, the divine assembly hall, and the Pārijāta tree, so that even mortals living there were freed from mortal limitations. Varuṇa gave swift, white horses, as quick as the mind; the lord of treasures gave eight treasuries; and the guardians of the worlds bestowed all their own opulences. All the lordship and wealth that had been granted to the gods by Hari for their own perfection, they now returned to Him as He descended to earth. There, by the power of yoga, Hari brought all the people, and after consulting with Balarama, the protector of the people, Krishna left the city gate, garlanded with lotuses and unarmed. Śuka continued: As Krishna emerged, he shone like the rising moon—most beautiful to behold, dark in complexion, clad in yellow silk. The Śrīvatsa mark adorned his chest, the radiant Kaustubha gem gleamed at his throat. He was broad and tall, four-armed, with eyes like fresh red lotuses, ever joyful and glorious, his cheeks rounded, his smile pure, his face lotus-like, and his brilliant earrings shaped like makaras. This was indeed Vāsudeva, marked by the Śrīvatsa, four-armed, lotus-eyed, adorned with a garland of forest flowers, supremely beautiful. The Yavana, recognizing the signs described by Nārada, thought, “No one else could be so. Unarmed, walking on foot—I shall fight him unarmed.” Thus resolved, the Yavana, intent on seizing Krishna, pursued him as he fled—though Krishna is unattainable even to yogis. As if he could grasp himself with his own hand, the lord of the Yavanas was led step by step by Hari, who showed himself always just at a distance, into a mountain cave. As he followed, the Yavana taunted, “Flight does not befit one born in the Yadu line, such as you!” But the ill-fated one could not catch Krishna. Though thus taunted, the Blessed Lord entered the mountain cave, and the Yavana entered after him—only to see another man lying there.