Bathed in the gentle radiance of the full moon, with the sweet fragrance of night-blooming lotuses drifting on the breeze, Balarama enjoyed himself in the lush groves by the Yamunā river. He was surrounded by groups of women, each eager to serve him, and the atmosphere was filled with joy and festivity. Suddenly, sent by Varuna, the goddess Varuni appeared, emerging from the hollow of a tree. As she descended, her divine fragrance permeated the entire forest, enhancing the enchantment of the night. Balarama inhaled the honeyed scent carried by the wind and, together with the women, drank the nectar with his tongue, delighting in its sweetness. As Gandharvas sang melodious tunes, Balarama, encircled by beautiful women, enjoyed himself like Indra, the lord of the elephants, among his herd. Drums resounded in the sky, flowers showered down in celebration, and Gandharvas and sages praised Rama for his marvelous deeds. The women sang of his exploits, and Halayudha wandered through the forests, intoxicated, his eyes unsteady with delight. He was adorned with a garland and a single earring, intoxicated and radiant, wearing the Vaijayanti wreath. His face, smiling and lotus-like, was embellished with drops of sweat, sparkling like frost. Desiring to play water games, Balarama summoned the Yamunā, but, intoxicated and disregarding his own words, he called out to the river. When Yamunā did not come, he became angry and, with the tip of his plough, dragged her towards him, rebuking her: "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." Frightened and trembling, Yamunā fell at his feet and spoke to the son of Yadu: "O Rama, Rama, mighty-armed, I do not know your prowess, O lord of the world, by whose single portion the earth is sustained. Forgive me, O Lord, for I did not know your supreme nature. O soul of the universe, friend of devotees, I have taken refuge in you." At her request, the blessed Bala released Yamunā, and, like a king elephant with his herd, bathed in the river with the women. After enjoying himself, he emerged from the water and, in the open air, gifted the women splendid ornaments and a beautiful garland. Dressed in blue garments and a golden garland, he rested, well adorned and anointed, shining like Indra among elephants. Even today, O King, the path drawn by Bala's dragging of Yamunā remains visible, a testament to his endless strength. Thus, the whole night passed as Rama enjoyed alone in Vraja, his mind captivated by the sweetness of the women. When Rama had gone to Nandavraja, Shuka continued, a new tale unfolded. The king of the Karusha, not knowing Krishna’s true identity as Vāsudeva, sent a messenger to Krishna, claiming, "I am Vāsudeva." The boys addressed Krishna, saying, "You are Vāsudeva, the Lord descended, ruler of the world." Krishna, knowing himself to be the infallible Self, heard the words. Deluded and childish, the king sent his messenger to Krishna in Dvaraka, just as a boy might send one to another. The messenger arrived in Dvaraka, entered the assembly, and addressed Krishna, the lotus-eyed Lord, delivering the royal message: "I alone am Vasudeva incarnate; there is no other. Out of compassion for beings I have descended. You should abandon your false claim." He continued, "The emblems you bear, which are mine, you wear out of ignorance, O Sātvata. Give them up and take refuge in me, or else, grant me battle." Hearing the boastful words of Paundraka, who lacked intelligence, Ugrasena and the other members of the assembly burst into loud laughter. The Blessed Lord, in jest, said to the messenger, "Fool, I will indeed relinquish the emblems by which you boast in this way. You will lie there slain, your face covered, surrounded by vultures, crows, and jackals; then, your refuge will be among the dogs." The messenger reported all these reproaches to his master, and Krishna, mounting his chariot, set out for Kashi. Paundraka, the mighty chariot-warrior, learning of Krishna's advance, swiftly departed the city with two divisions of troops. The king of Kashi, Paundraka's ally, followed him with three divisions of troops. Paundraka appeared, adorned with the conch, discus, mace, bow, and the mark of Śrīvatsa, the Kaustubha gem, and a garland of forest flowers. He wore yellow silk, bore the banner of Garuda, and shone with a priceless crown, ornaments, and makara-shaped earrings. Seeing him dressed as an imitation of his own appearance, like an actor on stage, Hari laughed heartily. The enemy kings attacked Hari with spears, maces, clubs, javelins, lances, darts, swords, sabres, and arrows. Krishna struck hard at the forces of Paundraka and the king of Kashi, those with elephants, chariots, horses, and infantry, using his mace, sword, discus, and arrows, just as fire at the end of an age consumes all beings. The battlefield, strewn with the bodies of elephants, horses, camels, donkeys, and men, broken by warriors, shone like a cremation ground, a place of delight for the bold, fearsome as the playground of the Lord of beings. Then Śauri addressed Paundraka: "Ho, Paundraka! Since you have spoken to me through your messenger, I will now relinquish these weapons to you. I will abandon the name you have falsely assumed of me, O fool. Today I will seek refuge with you, if I do not desire battle." Having struck with sharp arrows and deprived Paundraka of his chariot, Krishna severed his head with a chariot wheel, as Indra would a mountain with his thunderbolt. In the same way, he cut off the head of the king of Kashi and cast it down in the city, like the wind drops a lotus bud. Having thus slain the envious Paundraka along with his ally, Hari entered Dvaraka, as the perfected beings sang nectar-like tales of his glorious deeds.