As the night unfolded in Vraja, Balarama delighted in the enchanting company of the women there, his heart captivated by their sweetness. Meanwhile, far away, a new episode was about to unfold. Shuka continued: When Balarama had gone to Nandavraja, the king of the Karusha realm, unaware of Krishna’s true identity as the Supreme Lord, sent a messenger to Krishna. Astoundingly, this king claimed, “I am Vāsudeva.” The cowherd boys, recognizing Krishna’s divinity, addressed him as the Lord descended to rule the world. Krishna, understanding himself to be the infallible Self, listened as the deluded king, acting childishly and lacking true knowledge, sent his message to Krishna—just as a boy might send a boastful challenge to another in Dvaraka. The king’s messenger arrived in Krishna’s assembly and, standing before the lotus-eyed Lord, boldly proclaimed the royal message: “I alone am Vasudeva incarnate; there is no other. Out of compassion for all beings, I have descended. Abandon your false claim.” He continued, “The emblems you bear, which are rightfully mine, you wear out of ignorance, O Sātvata. Relinquish them and take refuge in me, or else, prepare for battle!” Hearing these arrogant words from Paundraka, the assembly—Ugrasena and the others—burst into laughter at such folly. Krishna, smiling at the jest, replied to the messenger, “Foolish one, I will indeed relinquish these emblems by which your master boasts so vainly. Soon, he will lie slain, his face covered, surrounded by vultures, crows, and jackals; his only refuge will be among the dogs.” The messenger returned and delivered Krishna’s words to Paundraka. Without delay, Krishna mounted his chariot and set out for Kashi. Paundraka, a warrior of some renown, learned of Krishna’s coming and quickly departed his city, flanked by two divisions of troops. His ally, the king of Kashi, followed with three more divisions. Together, they beheld Paundraka, who had dressed himself in an imitation of Krishna: bearing the conch, discus, mace, bow, the mark of Srivatsa, adorned with the Kaustubha gem, a garland of forest flowers, yellow silk, the Garuda banner, a priceless crown, shining ornaments, and makara-shaped earrings. When Krishna saw Paundraka mimicking his divine appearance—like an actor on stage—he laughed heartily. Then, the enemy kings launched their attack, hurling spears, maces, clubs, javelins, lances, darts, swords, sabres, and arrows at Hari. But Krishna struck back fiercely at the armies of Paundraka and the king of Kashi—those with elephants, chariots, horses, and foot soldiers—using his mace, sword, discus, and arrows, just as fire at the end of an age consumes all beings. The battlefield became a fearsome sight, 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, as terrifying as the playground of the Lord of beings. Then Krishna addressed Paundraka, “Ho, Paundraka! Since you have sent me such words through your messenger, I will now relinquish these weapons to you. I will abandon the name you have falsely assumed, O fool. Today I will seek refuge with you, if I do not desire battle.” With sharp arrows, Krishna shattered Paundraka’s chariot and, like Indra splitting a mountain with his thunderbolt, severed Paundraka’s head with a chariot wheel. In the same way, he cut off the head of the king of Kashi and cast it down in the city, as the wind drops a lotus bud. Having slain the envious Paundraka and his ally, Krishna returned to Dvaraka, as the perfected beings sang nectar-like stories of his deeds. Paundraka, who had constantly meditated on Krishna, was freed from all bonds at death, and—bearing the form of Hari—became absorbed in him. Back in Kashi, the people were astonished to see a severed head adorned with earrings at the royal gate. “What is this? Whose face is this?” they wondered. When they recognized it as the head of their king, the queens, sons, relatives, and citizens wailed in grief, “Alas, the king is slain! Our protector is gone!” Sudakshina, the king’s son, performed the funeral rites for his father and resolved, “I will destroy my father’s killer and thus honor my father.” With this determination, Sudakshina and his priest worshipped Maheshvara, Lord Shiva, with supreme concentration. Pleased in Avimukta, Lord Shiva granted him a boon. Sudakshina chose the means to slay his father’s killer. Shiva instructed, “Worship the southern fire with Brahmins and the officiating priest, performing the ritual of sorcery. That fire, surrounded by spirits, when used against one who is unrighteous, will accomplish your intent.” Thus instructed, Sudakshina performed the sorcery rite against Krishna, observing all the necessary vows. Then, from the fire-pit arose a terrifying being of embodied fire, with blazing copper-red hair and beard, eyes emitting streams of flames, fierce fangs, a dreadful brow, a harsh mouth, licking his lips, naked, shaking a blazing trident, and making a rattling sound. With feet as large as palm trees, shaking the earth, he advanced, surrounded by spirits, burning all directions as he headed for Dvaraka. Seeing this sorcerous fire approaching, the inhabitants of Dvaraka were seized with terror, like deer trapped by a forest fire. In their fear, they rushed to 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, Krishna—the refuge of all—smiled and reassured them, “Do not fear; I am your protector.” The all-pervading Lord, witness within and without, recognized the sorcerous act of Maheshvara and, to thwart it, ordered his discus, Sudarshana, which stood by his side. That Sudarshana discus, blazing like ten million suns and radiant as the fire at dissolution, illuminated the sky, the directions, and the earth by its own brilliance. Then, as the weapon of Mukunda, it subdued the fiery being, bringing peace and protection to Dvaraka once more.