O King, even today one can see the path carved by Bala’s strength, where he dragged the Yamuna river—an enduring mark that speaks of his endless might. That night, Balarama remained alone in Vraja, his heart enchanted by the sweetness of the women there, and thus the hours passed in joy. Meanwhile, as Rama had gone to Nandavraja, an unusual event unfolded. The king of Karusha, unaware that Krishna was truly the divine Vāsudeva, sent a messenger to Krishna in Dvaraka, boldly claiming, “I am Vāsudeva.” The boys addressed Krishna, saying, “You are Vāsudeva, descended as Lord, ruler of the world.” Krishna, knowing himself to be the infallible Self, listened. But the deluded king, ignorant and childish in his understanding, sent his messenger to Krishna—whose ways are inscrutable—as if he were just another boy in Dvaraka. When the messenger arrived, he entered the royal assembly and addressed Krishna, the lotus-eyed Lord, delivering the king’s message: “I alone am Vasudeva incarnate; there is no other. Out of compassion for beings I have descended. You must 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 Paundraka’s boastful words, Ugrasena and the other members of the assembly burst into laughter. The Blessed Lord, responding with jest, told the messenger, “Fool, I will indeed relinquish the emblems by which you boast in this way. You will lie slain, your face covered, surrounded by vultures, crows, and jackals; then, your refuge will be among the dogs.” The messenger carried these words back to his master, and Krishna, mounting his chariot, set out for Kashi. Paundraka, a mighty chariot-warrior, learned of Krishna’s advance and swiftly departed the city with two divisions of troops. The king of Kashi, Paundraka’s ally, followed with three divisions, and beheld Paundraka adorned in full regalia: conch, discus, mace, bow, and the mark of Śrīvatsa, wearing the Kaustubha gem and a garland of forest flowers. He was clad in yellow silk, bearing the Garuda banner, crowned and ornamented, shining with makara-shaped earrings. Seeing Paundraka dressed as an imitation of himself, 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, as fire at the end of an age consumes all beings. The battlefield became strewn with the bodies of elephants, horses, camels, donkeys, and men, broken by the warriors. It shone like a cremation ground, a place of delight for the bold, and as fearsome as the playground of the Lord of beings. Then Śauri spoke to 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 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 and his ally, Hari returned to Dvaraka, as the perfected beings sang nectar-like tales. Paundraka, who had constantly meditated on the Blessed Lord, was 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, people wondered, “What is this? Whose face could this be?” Upon recognizing it as the king of Kashi’s head, his queens, sons, relatives, and 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.” With this resolve, Sudakshina and 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. He was instructed: “Worship the southern fire 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. Then, 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, he advanced. His feet were as large as palm trees, shaking the earth, surrounded by spirits, burning all directions as he headed for Dvaraka. Seeing that sorcerous fire approaching, the inhabitants of Dvaraka were seized with terror, like deer in a forest fire. Frightened, they approached Bhagavan, who was playing dice in the assembly hall, and cried, “Save us, O Lord of the three worlds, from the fire burning the city!” Hearing their distress and seeing his people afraid, the refuge of all smiled and said, “Do not fear; I am your protector.” The all-pervading Lord, witness within and without all, recognized the sorcerous act of Maheshvara and, to thwart it, ordered his discus, which stood at his side.