O Rama, Rama, mighty-armed Lord of the world, I do not know the extent of your prowess. It is by but a single portion of your being that the earth is sustained, yet I, ignorant of your supreme nature, failed to recognize you. Forgive me, O soul of the universe, friend of devotees—I have now taken refuge in you. Thus addressed and requested, the blessed Bala released the river Yamuna. Joyfully, he entered the waters and bathed with the women, like a king elephant surrounded by his mates. After delighting in the river’s embrace, Bala emerged refreshed, and there, beneath the open sky, he adorned the women with splendid ornaments and a beautiful garland. Draped in blue garments and a golden garland, his body well-anointed and adorned, Bala rested, shining like Indra among elephants. Even today, O King, the path carved by Bala as he dragged Yamuna is visible, a lasting testament to his boundless strength. The night passed as Rama enjoyed himself alone in Vraja, his heart captivated by the sweetness of the women of that land. When Rama had gone to Nandavraja, Shuka continued, the king of the Karusha sent a messenger to Krishna in Dvaraka, unaware of Krishna’s divine identity as Vāsudeva. The king boldly claimed, “I am Vāsudeva.” The boys addressed Krishna, saying, “You are Vāsudeva, the Lord descended, ruler of the world.” Krishna, aware of his infallible Self, listened. But the deluded king, acting with childish ignorance, sent his messenger to Krishna, whose actions are inscrutable, as if a boy were sending word to another in Dvaraka. The messenger entered Krishna’s assembly and addressed 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. 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 these boastful words from Paundraka, who lacked intelligence, Ugrasena and the other members of the assembly burst into laughter. The Blessed Lord, responding with 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 Krishna’s words to his master. Krishna, mounting his chariot, set out for Kashi. Paundraka, the mighty chariot-warrior, learning of Krishna’s advance, swiftly departed the city, accompanied by two divisions of troops. The king of Kashi, Paundraka’s ally, followed him with three divisions of troops and beheld Paundraka, O King! Paundraka was 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 Paundraka dressed in imitation of his own divine 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. But Krishna struck fiercely at the forces of Paundraka and the king of Kashi—those with elephants, chariots, horses, and infantry—using his mace, sword, discus, and arrows, like fire at the end of an age, consuming all beings. The battlefield became strewn with the bodies of elephants, horses, camels, donkeys, and men, shattered by the warriors. It shone like a cremation ground, a place of delight for the bold, as 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 Paundraka with sharp arrows and deprived him of his chariot, Krishna severed his head with a chariot wheel, as Indra would cleave a mountain with his thunderbolt. In the same way, he cut off the head of the king of Kashi with arrows and cast it down in the city of Kashi, like the wind dropping 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 glory. Paundraka, constantly meditating on the Blessed Lord, freed from all bonds and bearing the form of Hari, became absorbed in Him. When the severed head, adorned with earrings, appeared at the royal gate, the people wondered, “What is this? Whose face could this be?” Recognizing it as the head of the king of Kashi, his queens, sons, relatives, and the citizens wailed, “Alas, the king is slain! Our protector is gone!” Sudakshina, his son, performed the funeral rites for his father and resolved, “I will destroy my father’s killer and thus honor my father.” Thus resolved, Sudakshina, together with his priest, worshipped Maheshvara with supreme concentration. Pleased in Avimukta, the Lord granted Sudakshina a boon, and he chose the means to slay his father’s killer. Maheshvara instructed him, “Worship the southern fire together with Brahmins and the officiating priest, performing the ritual of sorcery. That fire, surrounded by spirits, when employed against one who is unrighteous, will accomplish your intent.” Thus instructed, Sudakshina performed the sorcery rite against Krishna, observing the vow. From the fire-pit arose a terrifying embodied fire, with blazing copper-red hair and beard, and eyes emitting streams of flames. With fierce fangs, a dreadful brow, a harsh mouth, licking his lips with his own tongue, naked, shaking a blazing trident, and making a rattling sound, the fiery being emerged, ready to fulfill Sudakshina’s intent.