As the tumult of battle subsided, Gadāgraja, with his face turned aside in modesty, refused to look upon the naked woman before him. Meanwhile, Bāṇa, now bereft of his chariot and his bow broken, retreated into the city. With the hosts of beings scattered, a fierce fever demon, bearing three heads and three feet, surged toward the descendant of the Dasarha line, seeming to scorch all ten directions with his intensity. Witnessing this, the divine Nārāyaṇa responded by unleashing his own fever demon. Thus, the fever of Śiva and the fever of Viṣṇu clashed in a fearsome contest. Overpowered by the might of Viṣṇu’s fever, the fever of Śiva cried out in distress. Unable to find refuge and terrified, he sought shelter at the feet of Hṛṣīkeśa, folding his hands and praising him: “I bow to you, O Lord of infinite power, supreme ruler, soul of all, pure consciousness, cause of creation, maintenance, and dissolution—the tranquil Brahman, the mark of Brahman. Time, destiny, action, living beings, nature, substance, field, breath, self, and transformation—this aggregate, the flow of seed and sprout, is your illusion. I seek refuge in its negation. By your playful will, assuming many forms, you uphold gods and the virtuous, the bridges of the worlds, and destroy those who stray through violence. Your birth is for relieving the earth’s burden. I am scorched by your unbearable, fierce, and exceedingly intense fever. As long as people are bound by hope, they do not worship your feet, and thus their suffering continues.” The Blessed Lord spoke kindly: “O Triśiras, I am pleased with you. Let your fear of fever be dispelled. Whoever remembers our conversation will never have fear from you.” Thus comforted, the fever demon of Śiva bowed to Acyuta and departed. Bāṇa, having recovered, mounted his chariot and advanced to confront Janārdana. Bearing a thousand arms and wielding many weapons, he released arrows in furious volleys at the wielder of the discus. Again and again, the Lord cut down the weapons that flew from Bāṇa’s mouths with his razor-edged discus, severing Bāṇa’s arms like branches from a tree. As Bāṇa’s arms were being cut, Lord Bhava, moved by compassion for his devotee, approached and addressed the wielder of the discus: “O Supreme Brahman, highest light, hidden within the Brahman expressed in words, those of pure soul see you as the sky, alone. Your navel is the ether, fire your mouth, water your semen, the sky your head, the directions your ears, your feet the earth; the moon is your mind, the sun your eye, the self your soul, I am the ocean, your belly, and the serpent king is your arm. Your hairs are the plants, clouds your waters, Brahmā your hair, intelligence your creative power, Prajāpati your heart, Dharma your essence. Truly, you are the cosmic person, the model of the worlds. This descent of yours, O unimpeded Lord, is for the protection of dharma and the welfare of the world. Inspired by you, we comprehend the seven realms. You alone are the primordial, unique Person, the fourth beyond; self-seeing, cause and causeless, O Lord; you appear, yet unchanged, by your own power, for the manifestation of all qualities. Just as the sun, concealed by its own shadow, projects both the shadow and forms, so you, hidden by your quality, illuminate the qualities, O boundless light of the self, and those possessing qualities. Those whose minds are deluded by your maya become attached to children, spouses, homes, and so forth, rising and sinking, engrossed in the ocean of misfortune. Having obtained this human birth, if one with uncontrolled senses does not honor your feet, he is to be pitied, for he deceives himself. He who abandons you, O Lord, his own beloved self, and pursues the objects of the senses in reverse, consumes poison, forsaking nectar. I, Brahma, the gods, and the sages of pure mind, have all surrendered to you, the dearest Lord, with our whole being. You, the cause of the world’s creation, sustenance, and dissolution—equal, tranquil, friend, self and god; the sole, nondual, source of the universe—we worship you, O Lord, for liberation from birth and death. This one is dear to me, beloved, obedient. I have granted him fearlessness, O Lord; let your favor be bestowed upon him, just as you showed mercy to the lord of the daityas.” The Blessed Lord replied with warmth: “O revered one, whatever you say, I shall do what pleases you. Whatever you decide, that is agreeable and approved by me. This son of Virocana, an asura, is not to be slain even by me. A boon was granted to Prahlada, so neither he nor your lineage shall be killed by me. To humble his pride, I have broken his arms; his vast army, which burdened the earth, has been destroyed by me. Four of his arms remain; he will be ageless and immortal, chief among your attendants, and, O asura, he shall have no fear from anywhere.” Having received fearlessness, Bāṇa bowed his head to Krishna, placed Pradyumna on the chariot with his wife, and brought him forward. Surrounded by an army division, adorned in fine garments and ornaments, with his wife beside him, he departed, honored by Rudra. He entered his royal city, splendid with flags, gateways, and guarded crossroads, amid the sounds of conch, trumpet, and drum, welcomed by citizens, friends, and the twice-born. Whoever remembers Krishna’s victory and his battle with Shankara, rising in the morning, will never suffer defeat. Thus ends the sixty-third chapter, entitled 'The Bringing of Aniruddha,' in the tenth canto, second half, of the holy Bhagavata Mahapurana, the scripture of the supreme swan. *** Śrī Śuka continued: O best of the Kurus, Lord Balarāma, eager to see his beloved friends, mounted his chariot and journeyed to Nanda’s Gokula. There, the cowherds and cowherd women, who had longed for him, embraced him for a long time. Rāma bowed to his parents, who joyfully blessed him. “May you and your brother, O Lord of the universe, protect us always, O Dāśārha,” they said, lifting him onto their laps, embracing him, and bathing him with tears of love. He respectfully greeted the elder cowherds, who were seated according to custom, each according to their age, friendship, and relationship to himself. Then, approaching the cowherd men with laughter, handshakes, and other gestures, those who had gathered around asked him, as he sat comfortably at ease. He, in turn, asked after their well-being and that of their families, his voice choked with affection, for in Kṛṣṇa, whose eyes are like lotus petals, all their burdens had been placed.