When the hosts of beings were scattered and driven away, a terrible fever demon appeared before Krishna, the descendant of Dasarha. This demon, with three heads and three feet, advanced furiously, his presence so intense it seemed to set the ten directions ablaze. Perceiving this threat, the divine Narayana responded. Krishna released his own fever demon to confront the one sent by Shiva, and thus, the fever of Shiva and the fever of Vishnu clashed in a fierce and extraordinary battle. Overwhelmed by the superior power of Vishnu’s fever, Shiva’s fever demon cried out in distress. Unable to find refuge elsewhere and filled with fear, he hurried to Hṛṣīkeśa—Krishna himself—folded his hands, and sought shelter, offering praises with deep humility: “I bow to you, O Lord of infinite power, supreme ruler, soul of all, pure consciousness, the cause of creation, maintenance, and dissolution of the universe. You are the tranquil Brahman, the very mark of Brahman itself. Time, destiny, action, the living beings, nature, substance, the field, breath, self, and all transformations—the flow of seed and sprout—are but your illusion. I seek refuge in the negation of this illusion. By your play, you assume many forms to support the gods, the virtuous, and the bridges that connect the worlds; you destroy the violent and those who stray, and your birth is for relieving the burden of the earth. I am scorched by your unbearable, fierce, and intense fever. As long as people remain bound by hope, they do not worship the root of your feet, and thus their suffering continues.” The Blessed Lord Krishna replied, “O Triśiras, I am pleased with you. Let your fear from fever be dispelled. Whoever remembers our conversation will never have reason to fear you.” Thus comforted, Shiva’s fever demon bowed to Acyuta—Krishna—and departed. Meanwhile, Bāṇa, mounting his chariot, advanced once more to confront Janārdana in battle. The asura, bearing a thousand arms and wielding many weapons, released a storm of arrows in great fury at the wielder of the discus. Again and again, the Lord cut down the weapons Bāṇa sent forth from his many mouths, using his razor-edged discus to sever Bāṇa’s arms as if they were branches from a tree. As Bāṇa’s arms were being cut, Lord Bhava—Shiva himself—moved by compassion for his devotee, approached Krishna and addressed him with reverence: “You are the supreme Brahman, the highest light, hidden within the Brahman that is spoken of in words. Those with pure souls see you as the sky alone—limitless and all-pervading. Your navel is the ether, fire your mouth, water your seed, the sky your head, the directions your ears, your feet the earth, the moon 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 plants, clouds are your waters, Brahmā is your hair, intelligence is your creative power, Prajāpati is your heart, and 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 remain unchanged, manifesting all qualities by your own power. Just as the sun, concealed by its own shadow, projects both the shadow and forms, so you, hidden by your own quality, illuminate the qualities and those possessing qualities, O boundless light of the self. Those whose minds are deluded by your maya become attached to children, spouses, homes, and so forth, and rise and sink—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, 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 Bāṇa 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 Prahlada, the lord of the daityas.” Krishna replied, “O revered one, whatever you say, I shall do what pleases you; whatever you decide 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.” Thus, having received fearlessness, Bāṇa bowed his head to Krishna. Placing Pradyumna on the chariot with his wife, Bāṇa brought him forward. Surrounded by his army, 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 twice-born. It is said that 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. Later, Śuka continued: O best of the Kurus, Lord Balarāma, eager to see his dear friends, mounted his chariot and traveled to Nanda’s Gokula. There, he was embraced for a long time by the cowherds and the cowherd women, who had yearned for him. Rāma bowed to his parents, who joyfully blessed him, lifting him onto their laps, embracing him, and bathing him with tears of affection. “May you and your brother, O Lord of the universe, protect us always, O Dāśārha,” they said. Balarāma 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 friendly gestures, those gathered around him asked about his well-being as he sat comfortably at ease. In turn, Balarāma asked after their welfare and that of their families, his voice choked with affection, for all their burdens had been placed in Krishna, whose eyes are like lotus petals. They asked him, “O Rāma, are all your relatives well? Do you, with your wives and children, still remember us?