The royal guards approached King Bāṇa with grave concern, reporting that his daughter had begun to act suspiciously—a shame, they said, upon the royal family. “Though we have carefully watched over her within her chambers,” they explained, “we cannot understand how this maiden, so difficult to approach, has been defiled by a man.” Deeply troubled by this news, King Bāṇa hurried into his daughter’s quarters. There, to his astonishment, he beheld the Yadu prince, Aniruddha. The prince was strikingly beautiful—dark-complexioned, clad in radiant yellow garments, his eyes like lotuses, his arms broad and strong, his form shining with earrings and curling locks, and his face adorned with gentle, smiling glances. Aniruddha was seated beside Bāṇa’s daughter, Uṣā, playing at dice. Uṣā, filled with longing for her beloved, wore a garland smeared with the crimson of her own breasts, and Aniruddha held a jasmine garland in his arms. Seeing the two together, Bāṇa was taken aback. As the palace guards and soldiers surrounded them, ready to seize him, Aniruddha rose, grasping his club with the fierce determination of Death himself. When the guards rushed at him from all sides, Aniruddha struck them down as a boar scatters a pack of dogs. Those who survived his wrath fled in terror, their bodies wounded and broken. At this, Bāṇa’s powerful son stepped forward and, invoking serpent bonds, managed to subdue and bind Aniruddha, even as the prince raged against his captors. Uṣā, overwhelmed by grief at the sight of her beloved bound and defeated, wept bitterly, her eyes brimming with tears. Thus concludes the chapter of Aniruddha’s binding. Time passed, and in Dvārakā, four months went by in sorrow for Aniruddha and his kin, who were unaware of his fate. At last, the sage Nārada brought word of Aniruddha’s captivity and the events that had transpired in Śoṇitapura. At once, the Vṛṣṇis—devotees of Kṛṣṇa—prepared for action. Pradyumna, Yuyudhāna, Gada, Sāmba, Sāraṇa, Nanda, Upananda, Bhadra, and many others, all followers of Rāma and Kṛṣṇa, set forth, leading twelve divisions of troops. These great Sātvata warriors surrounded Bāṇa’s city on every side. When Bāṇa saw his gardens, ramparts, towers, and gateways under assault, he was seized by anger. Mustering an army equal in strength, he marched out to meet the invaders. For Bāṇa’s sake, the blessed Lord Rudra—Śiva himself—mounted the bull Nandi with his son and the fierce Pramathas, joining the battle against Rāma and Kṛṣṇa. A wondrous and fearsome battle unfolded. Kṛṣṇa and Śaṅkara faced each other; Pradyumna contended with Guha (Kārtikeya); Kumbhāṇḍa and Kūpakarṇa fought with Balarāma; Sāmba battled Bāṇa’s son; and Sātyaki confronted Bāṇa himself. From afar, Brahmā, the other gods, sages, perfected beings, celestial musicians, nymphs, and yakṣas arrived in their aerial chariots to witness this extraordinary conflict. Kṛṣṇa, wielding his mighty Śārṅga bow, drove away the hosts of Śiva: spirits, pramathas, guhyakas, ḍākinīs, rākṣasas, vināyakas, pretas, mātṛs, piśācas, kuṣmāṇḍas, and brahmarākṣasas—all scattered by the sharp arrows he loosed. The wielder of the Pināka bow, Śiva, sent a variety of weapons at Kṛṣṇa, but Kṛṣṇa, undisturbed, countered each with his own divine missiles. Brahmāstra met Brahmāstra; Vāyavya was checked by Pārvatāstra; Agneyā by Pārjanya; Pāśupata by Kṛṣṇa’s own weapon. Then, bewildering Giriśa (Śiva) with the Jṛmbhaṇa weapon, Śauri (Kṛṣṇa) set upon Bāṇa’s army with sword, mace, and arrows, scattering them. Meanwhile, Pradyumna’s relentless arrows battered Skanda (Kārtikeya), who, wounded and bloodied, withdrew from the field. Kumbhāṇḍa and Kūpakarṇa fell to Balarāma’s plough, and their leaderless troops fled in panic. Seeing his forces shattered, Bāṇa, burning with fury, left Sātyaki and charged at Kṛṣṇa. He drew his five hundred bows at once, setting two arrows on each, and released a storm of missiles. But Lord Hari, with effortless skill, cut down every bow, destroyed Bāṇa’s chariot, slew his charioteer and horses, and then sounded his conch. At that moment, Bāṇa’s mother, Koṭarā, appeared naked and disheveled, seeking to protect her son. Out of respect, Kṛṣṇa turned his face away and did not look upon her, allowing Bāṇa, now weaponless and without a chariot, to retreat into the city. As the hosts of beings were scattered, a fever demon with three heads and three feet, blazing like fire, rushed at Kṛṣṇa, threatening to burn the ten directions. In response, the divine Nārāyaṇa released his own fever spirit. The fever of Śiva and the fever of Viṣṇu fought a terrible battle. Overwhelmed by the power of Viṣṇu’s fever, the fever of Śiva cried out in fear. Unable to escape and terrified, he surrendered to Hṛṣīkeśa (Kṛṣṇa), praising him with folded hands: “O Lord of infinite power, supreme ruler, soul of all, pure consciousness, cause of creation, maintenance, and dissolution, tranquil Brahman—time, destiny, action, being, nature, substance, field, breath, self, transformation—all this is your illusion. I seek refuge in you, beyond all illusion. By your play, you support the gods and the virtuous, you destroy those who stray, and you take birth to relieve the earth’s burden. I am scorched by your unbearable fever; so long as people are bound by hope, they do not worship your feet, and thus they suffer.” The Blessed Lord replied, “O Triśiras, I am pleased with you. Let your fear of fever be dispelled. Whoever remembers our conversation will have no fear from you.” Thus addressed, the fever spirit of Śiva bowed to Acyuta and departed. Meanwhile, Bāṇa, mounting his chariot once more, returned to face Janārdana (Kṛṣṇa). Then, O King, the demon Bāṇa, now displaying a thousand arms and wielding many weapons, released a furious volley of arrows at the wielder of the discus, Kṛṣṇa, as the great battle raged on.