Resplendent before all eyes, Krishna appeared in his divine form, adorned with the conch, discus, mace, and bow, the auspicious Śrīvatsa mark upon his chest. The radiant Kaustubha gem gleamed at his heart, and a garland of wild forest flowers graced his neck. He wore brilliant yellow silk, bore the banner of Garuda, and shone with a priceless crown, dazzling ornaments, and makara-shaped earrings that sparkled at his ears. Before him stood Paundraka, arrayed as an imitation of Krishna himself, mimicking the Lord’s ornaments and weapons like an actor upon the stage. Seeing this parody of his own appearance, Hari laughed heartily, his mirth filling the battlefield. But the assembled enemy kings, undeterred, charged at Hari with a terrifying array of weapons—spears, maces, clubs, javelins, lances, darts, swords, sabres, and arrows. Krishna, however, struck back with unmatched might, wielding his mace, sword, discus, and arrows. He fell upon the armies of Paundraka and the king of Kashi—those with elephants, chariots, horses, and infantry—with the force of fire at the end of the age, consuming all that stood before him. The battlefield soon became a grim scene: bodies of elephants, horses, camels, donkeys, and men lay scattered, broken by the fury of war. It glowed like a cremation ground, a place of dread and awe, as fearsome as the playground of the Lord of all beings. Then Śauri—Krishna—addressed Paundraka: “Ho, Paundraka! Since you have sent your messenger to demand my weapons, I shall now relinquish them to you! I will abandon the name you have falsely claimed, O fool. If I do not desire battle, today I will seek refuge with you.” With these words, Krishna unleashed sharp arrows, striking Paundraka and depriving him of his chariot. Then, with a chariot wheel, he severed Paundraka’s head from his body, as Indra might split a mountain with his thunderbolt. In the same way, he cut off the head of the king of Kashi with his arrows and cast it down into the city of Kashi, just as the wind might drop a lotus bud. Having thus slain the envious Paundraka and his ally, Hari entered Dvaraka. As he returned, the perfected beings—siddhas—sang nectar-like tales of his glory. Paundraka, who had constantly meditated on the Blessed Lord and bore his form, was thus freed from all bonds and became absorbed in Him. Meanwhile, in Kashi, the people saw the severed head, still adorned with earrings, lying at the royal gate. They wondered in shock, “What is this? Whose face could this be?” Recognizing it as their king’s, his queens, sons, relatives, and 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. Filled with resolve, he vowed, “I will destroy my father’s killer and thus honor my father.” With this determination, Sudakshina and his priest began to worship Maheshvara—Lord Shiva—with supreme concentration. Pleased in the holy city of Avimukta, Shiva granted Sudakshina a boon. Sudakshina asked for the means to slay his father’s killer. Shiva instructed him: “Worship the southern fire with Brahmins and the officiating priest, performing the ritual of sorcery. That fire, surrounded by spirits, when directed against one who is unrighteous, will accomplish your intent.” Thus instructed, Sudakshina performed the sorcery rite against Krishna, strictly observing the necessary vows. From the fire-pit arose a terrifying embodied fire: its copper-red hair and beard blazed, its eyes emitted streams of flame. Fierce fangs jutted from its dreadful brow; its harsh mouth licked its own lips with a long tongue. Naked, shaking a blazing trident, and making a rattling sound, the fiery being’s feet were as large as palm trees, shaking the earth as it advanced, surrounded by spirits, burning all directions on its way to Dvaraka. Seeing this sorcerous fire approaching, the inhabitants of Dvaraka were seized with terror, like deer trapped in a forest fire. Frightened, 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 burning the city!” Hearing their distress and seeing his people’s fear, Krishna—the refuge of all—smiled reassuringly and said, “Do not fear; I am your protector.” The all-pervading Lord, witness within and without, recognized the sorcery of Maheshvara and, to counter it, ordered his discus, Sudarshana, which stood ever at his side. The Sudarshana discus, blazing like ten million suns and shining with the radiance of the fire at dissolution, illuminated the sky, the directions, and the earth by its own brilliance. As the weapon of Mukunda, it subdued the fiery being conjured by sorcery. Struck 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 abhicara, or sorcery, they had performed was turned upon them. Then, Sudarshana entered Varanasi itself—with its palaces, assembly halls, markets, gates, towers, granaries, treasuries, elephants, horses, chariots, and stores of grain. The discus of Vishnu burned all of Varanasi, and then, its work done, returned to stand by Krishna, the doer of flawless deeds. Whoever, with focused mind, recites or hears this account of the Lord’s praiseworthy exploits is freed from all sins. At this, King Parikshit said: “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 certain monkey named Dvivida, a friend of Naraka, a counselor of 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 hurled them to crush entire regions—especially in Anarta, where Hari, the slayer of his friend, resided. At times, he would stand in the middle of the ocean, lift up its waters with his arms, and flood the coastal lands, possessing the strength of ten thousand elephants. He destroyed the hermitages of great sages, breaking their trees and, in his wickedness, defiling their sacred fires with urine and excrement. Arrogant, he would seize men and women, cast them into mountain caves and valleys, and crush them with rocks as a craftsman crushes insects. Thus, as he ravaged the land and violated noble women, he once heard sweet singing and made his way to Mount Raivataka. There, he saw Rama, the Lord of the Yadus, adorned with a garland of lotuses, beautiful in every limb, surrounded by groups of women.