The messenger, having faithfully delivered all the insults and challenges to his master, returned and reported them to Krishna. Upon hearing this, Krishna mounted his chariot and set out for the city of Kashi. Meanwhile, Paundraka, the mighty chariot-warrior, learned of Krishna’s approach. Without delay, he left the city, taking with him two full divisions of troops. The king of Kashi, an ally of Paundraka, followed after him with three more divisions, and soon caught sight of Paundraka. Paundraka had adorned himself in the very likeness of Krishna: he bore the conch, discus, mace, and bow, displayed the mark of Śrīvatsa on his chest, and wore the radiant Kaustubha gem and a garland of wild forest flowers. Clad in brilliant yellow silk, carrying the banner of Garuda, his form was resplendent with a priceless crown, ornaments, and makara-shaped earrings. When Krishna beheld Paundraka decked out in such an imitation of his own divine appearance, like an actor on a stage, he laughed heartily at the sight. But the enemy kings, taking their places in the field, launched their attack on Krishna with a rain of weapons—spears, maces, clubs, javelins, lances, darts, swords, sabres, and arrows. Unperturbed, Krishna struck back fiercely at the forces of Paundraka and the king of Kashi—those on elephants, chariots, horses, and on foot—wielding his mace, sword, discus, and arrows. His assault was like the fire that consumes all beings at the end of an age. The battlefield soon became a dreadful sight, covered with the bodies of elephants, horses, camels, donkeys, and men, shattered by the clash of warriors. It shone like a cremation ground—a place that delights the fearless, as fearsome as the playground of the Lord of beings. Then Krishna, the mighty Śauri, addressed Paundraka: “Ho, Paundraka! Since you have sent me your message, I shall now give you these weapons you demanded. The name you have falsely claimed as your own, O fool, I will relinquish. If I did not desire battle, I would seek refuge with you today.” With these words, Krishna struck Paundraka with sharp arrows, destroyed his chariot, and then, with a chariot wheel, severed his head—just as Indra splits a mountain with his thunderbolt. In the same way, Krishna cut off the head of the king of Kashi with arrows and cast it down into the city of Kashi, as the wind drops a lotus bud. Having slain the envious Paundraka and his ally, Krishna—Hari—returned to Dvaraka, accompanied by the sweet songs of the perfected beings, who sang of his nectar-like deeds. Paundraka, who had constantly meditated on the Blessed Lord and was freed from all bonds, attained absorption in Krishna, bearing a form like his. When the people of Kashi saw the severed head, still adorned with earrings, lying at the royal gate, they were filled with wonder: “What is this? Whose face could this be?” Upon recognizing it as their king’s head, his queens, sons, relatives, and all the 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. Gripped by determination, he resolved, “I will destroy my father’s killer and thus honor my father’s memory.” With this intent, Sudakshina, together with his priest, worshipped Maheshvara—Lord Shiva—with utmost concentration. Pleased in his sacred abode of Avimukta, Shiva granted Sudakshina a boon, bidding him to choose what he desired. Sudakshina asked for the means to slay his father’s killer. Shiva instructed him: “Worship the southern fire together with Brahmins and your officiating priest, performing the ritual of sorcery. That fire, surrounded by spirits, when directed against one who is unrighteous, will fulfill your intent.” Following these instructions, Sudakshina performed the sorcery rite against Krishna, observing the necessary vows. Then, from the fire-pit, there arose a terrifying embodied fire—a being with blazing copper-red hair and beard, and eyes pouring forth streams of flame. Its mouth was harsh, its brow dreadful, with fierce fangs, lips licked by its own tongue. Naked, shaking a blazing trident, it made a rattling, fearsome sound. Its feet, as large as palm trees, shook the earth as it advanced, surrounded by spirits, burning all directions as it made its way toward Dvaraka. When the people of Dvaraka saw this sorcerous fire approaching, terror seized them, like deer caught in a forest fire. In their fear, they rushed to Bhagavan Krishna, who was playing dice in the assembly hall, and cried out, “Save us, O Lord of the three worlds, from the fire that is burning the city!” Hearing their cries and seeing their fear, Krishna, the refuge of all, smiled gently and reassured them, “Do not be afraid; I am your protector.” The all-pervading Lord, witness within and without all beings, recognized the sorcerous act performed through Maheshvara’s power. To thwart it, he ordered his Sudarshana discus, which stood ever at his side. The Sudarshana discus blazed forth like ten million suns, shining with the radiance of the cosmic fire at dissolution. Its brilliance illuminated the sky, the quarters, and the earth. The discus, the weapon of Mukunda, subdued the fiery being conjured by the ritual. Struck down by the power of the discus, the fiery being was broken and turned back, its face defeated. Entering Varanasi, it consumed Sudakshina and his priests—the very sorcery they had performed turned upon them. Then, the Sudarshana discus entered Varanasi itself, burning its palaces, assembly halls, markets, gates, towers, granaries, treasuries, elephants, horses, chariots, and stores of grain. Having thus consumed all of Varanasi, the Sudarshana discus returned to Krishna’s side, the doer of flawless deeds. Whoever, with a focused mind, recites or hears this account of the Lord’s praiseworthy deeds is freed from all sins. At this point, King Parikshit spoke: “Once more I wish to hear of the wondrous deeds of Rama, the immeasurable and infinite Lord. What else did that master accomplish?” Shuka replied: “There was a monkey named Dvivida, a friend of Naraka, a counselor to Sugriva, and the valiant brother of Mainda. Seeking to avenge his friend’s death, Dvivida brought ruin to the land—he set fire to cities, villages, settlements, and cowherds’ hamlets. Sometimes, uprooting mountains, he would hurl them down to crush whole regions, especially in Anarta, where Hari, the slayer of his friend, resided. At times, standing in the midst of the ocean, he would lift up its waters with his arms and submerge the surrounding lands, possessing the strength of ten thousand elephants. He destroyed the hermitages of great sages by breaking their sacred trees, and, wicked as he was, he defiled their holy fires with urine and excrement.