In the aftermath of a fierce battle, the assembled celestial beings offered their heartfelt prayers to Krishna, the cause of creation, preservation, and dissolution of the worlds. They recognized him as the tranquil, impartial friend, the self and god, the sole, nondual source of the universe. With reverence, they worshipped him, seeking liberation from the endless cycle of birth and death. One among them, expressing deep affection for the asura who stood before Krishna, spoke: "This one is beloved to me, obedient and dear. I have granted him fearlessness, O Lord; let your favor rest upon him, just as you once showed mercy to Prahlada, the lord of the daityas." Krishna, the Blessed Lord, replied with respect: "O revered one, whatever pleases you, I shall do. Your wishes are agreeable and approved by me." He then explained, "This son of Virocana, though an asura, is not to be slain even by myself. A boon was granted to Prahlada, ensuring that neither he nor your lineage shall be killed by me." To humble the asura's pride, Krishna had broken his arms, and his vast army—whose presence burdened the earth—had been destroyed. Yet, four arms remained to him. Krishna declared, "He shall be ageless and immortal, chief among your attendants, and, O asura, he shall have no fear from anywhere." Having received the gift of fearlessness, the asura bowed his head to Krishna, then placed Pradyumna, with his wife, upon the chariot and brought him forward. Surrounded by a division of 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. The air was filled with the sounds of conch, trumpet, and drum, and he was welcomed by citizens, friends, and the twice-born. It was proclaimed that whoever remembers Krishna's victory and his battle with Shankara, rising in the morning, will never suffer defeat. Thus concludes 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. Some time later, Śuka continued his narration to the best of the Kurus: Lord Balarāma, eager to see his dear friends, mounted his chariot and journeyed to Nanda's Gokula. Upon his arrival, the cowherds and cowherd women, who had longed for him, embraced him for a long time. Balarāma bowed to his parents, who joyfully blessed him. With tears streaming from their eyes, they lifted him onto their laps, embraced him, and said, "May you and your brother, O Lord of the universe, protect us always, O Dāśārha." Balarāma then respectfully greeted the elder cowherds, seated according to custom, honoring each according to their age, friendship, and relationship. Approaching the cowherd men, he was welcomed with laughter, handshakes, and friendly gestures. As they gathered around him, sitting comfortably at ease, they asked after his well-being. Balarāma, his voice choked with affection, inquired about their families, for all their burdens had been placed in Krishna, whose eyes are like lotus petals. "O Rāma, are all your relatives well? Do you, with your wives and children, still remember us?" they asked. "By good fortune, the wicked Kaṃsa has been slain; by good fortune, your friends have been freed; by good fortune, having defeated your enemies, you have taken shelter in a stronghold." The cowherd women, delighted to see Balarāma, laughed and asked, "Is Krishna, beloved of the city women, living happily? Does he remember his relatives, his father and mother? Will he ever come, even once, to see his mother? Or does that mighty-armed one remember our service to him?" "For whose sake, O Dāśārha, did you, O Lord, abandon your mother, father, brothers, husbands, sons, and even sisters—your dearest kin?" they lamented. "He left us suddenly, severing our bonds of affection. How, then, could such a one be trusted by women to keep his word?" "How could the women of the city, wise as they are, accept the words of one so inconstant and ungrateful? Yet, enchanted by his charming stories, smiles, glances, and sighs, they do accept him, lovesick as they are." "What use is there for us, O cowherd women, in talking of him? Let us speak of other things. Time passes for us in his absence, if it passes for him as it does for us." But as they remembered Krishna's playful words, lovely glances, graceful movements, and loving embraces, the women wept. Lord Saṅkarṣaṇa, skilled in many ways of persuasion, comforted them with heartfelt messages from Krishna. There, Balarāma stayed for two months—Madhu and Mādhava—bringing delight to the gopīs during the nights. Bathed in the light of the full moon, with the fragrance of night-blooming lotuses carried by the breeze, Balarāma enjoyed himself in the groves by the Yamunā, surrounded by groups of women who served him. Sent by Varuna, the goddess Varuni emerged from the hollow of a tree, her fragrance filling the entire forest. Bala inhaled the scent of the honey-stream, carried by the wind, and approached, drinking together with the women, using his tongue. As Gandharvas sang, in a circle adorned by beautiful women, the lord of the elephant herd enjoyed himself, like Indra among elephants. Drums resounded in the sky, flowers rained down in joy, and Gandharvas and sages praised Rama for his deeds. His exploits were sung by the women, and Halayudha wandered through the forests, intoxicated, his eyes unsteady from delight. Adorned with a garland, a single earring, intoxicated, wearing the Vaijayanti wreath, displaying a smiling lotus-like face, embellished with drops of sweat like frost. The lord summoned the Yamuna for water games, but Bala, intoxicated, disregarded his own words and called out to the river. When she did not come, angered, he dragged her with the tip of his plough, declaring, "O sinful one, you have disregarded me though I called you; I will lead you with the tip of my plough, you who wander as you please." Thus rebuked, frightened, Yamuna spoke trembling words to the son of Yadu, falling at his feet: "O Rama, Rama, mighty-armed, I do not know your prowess, O lord of the world, by whose single portion the earth is sustained. O Lord, you should forgive me, who did not know your supreme nature; O soul of the universe, friend of devotees, I have taken refuge in you.