Sudakshina, seeking vengeance, approached the learned Brahmins and the presiding priest to undertake a powerful ritual of sorcery. Together, they worshipped the southern fire, invoking it with precise rites, as prescribed by tradition. The fire, surrounded by spirits, was to be unleashed against one who was deemed unrighteous. The Brahmins assured Sudakshina, “When this fire is directed at the wicked, it will surely fulfill your intent.” Thus instructed, Sudakshina performed the ritual against Krishna, strictly observing the necessary vows. From the sacred fire-pit, there arose a terrifying embodied being of fire. Its copper-red hair and beard blazed fiercely, and from its eyes streamed torrents of flame. The apparition’s fangs were sharp and menacing, its brow furrowed in dread, and its mouth harsh and twisted, licking its lips with its own tongue. Naked and formidable, it shook a blazing trident and emitted a rattling, fearsome sound. Its feet were as large as palm trees, and as it advanced, the earth trembled beneath its steps. Surrounded by a host of spirits, the fiery being blazed in every direction as it made its way toward Dvaraka. The people of Dvaraka, seeing this dreadful sorcerous fire approaching, were seized with terror, like helpless deer trapped 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! Rescue us from this fire that threatens to consume our city!” Hearing the distress of his people 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, who witnesses all from within and without, recognized the sorcerous act as one wrought by Maheshvara. To counter it, he ordered his Sudarshana discus, which stood ever ready at his side. The Sudarshana discus, blazing with the brilliance of ten million suns and shining like the fire at the end of time, illuminated the sky, the directions, and the earth with its own radiance. Wielded by Mukunda, the discus subdued the fiery being. O King, that dreadful creature, created by the ritual, was struck down by the power of Krishna’s weapon. Broken and defeated, its face turned back. It fled into Varanasi, where, in a terrible turn of fate, it consumed Sudakshina and the Brahmins who had performed the very sorcery that gave it birth. Then, the Sudarshana discus itself entered Varanasi, burning the city with all its palaces, assembly halls, bustling markets, gates, towers, granaries, treasuries, elephants, horses, chariots, and stores of grain. Having reduced Varanasi to ashes, the discus of Vishnu returned once more to Krishna’s side, the Lord renowned for his flawless deeds. Whoever, with a focused mind, recites or hears this account of the praiseworthy Lord’s exploits is freed from all sins. The king, his heart full of wonder, said, “Once more, tell me of the marvelous deeds of Rama, the immeasurable and infinite Lord. What other wondrous acts did that master accomplish?” Shuka replied: There was a certain monkey named Dvivida—a friend of Naraka, counselor to Sugriva, and the valiant brother of Mainda. Seeking vengeance for his fallen friend, Dvivida brought ruin upon the land. He set fire to cities, villages, settlements, and cowherds’ hamlets. Sometimes, uprooting entire mountains, he would hurl them down, crushing the regions below—especially in Anarta, where Hari, the slayer of his friend, resided. At other times, Dvivida would stand in the middle of the ocean, lift up its waters with his mighty arms, and submerge the coastal lands, for his strength was equal to ten thousand elephants. He destroyed the hermitages of great sages, breaking their sacred trees, and, wicked as he was, defiled their holy fires with urine and excrement. Arrogant and cruel, he seized men and women, casting them into mountain caves and valleys, then crushing them with rocks as a craftsman crushes insects. Thus, as he ravaged the lands and violated noble women, Dvivida one day heard sweet singing emanating from Mount Raivataka. Drawn by the sound, he came upon Rama—the Lord of the Yadus—adorned with a garland of lotuses, beautiful in every limb, surrounded by groups of women. Rama was singing, his eyes unsteady from drinking Varuni, his form radiant like a mighty elephant in rut. The wicked monkey climbed a tree, shaking its branches and making loud noises to draw attention to himself. The young women, playful and fond of laughter, who were companions of Balarama, burst into giggles at the monkey’s antics. Dvivida, mocking them, threw clods of earth and other objects at them, displaying his backside in jest, all while Rama looked on. Enraged by the monkey’s insolence, Balarama—the foremost of warriors—hurled a rock at him. But Dvivida, cunning and swift, dodged the rock and seized the wine jar. Holding it aloft, the monkey mocked Rama and his companions, laughing as he wickedly broke the jar and scattered Balarama’s garments. Growing more insolent, intoxicated with pride, Dvivida continued to show disrespect, even as the region was disturbed by his actions. Angered, Balarama seized his club and plough, intent on ending the monkey’s rampage. But Dvivida, of immense strength, uprooted a giant tree with his hand and struck Balarama on the head. Yet, like a mountain unmoved by the storm, Sankarshana stood firm. Balarama caught the tree and struck Dvivida with his club, shattering the monkey’s skull so that blood streamed forth. Still, Dvivida, like a mountain stained with red ochre, ignored the blow. Again, he seized another tree, stripped it of branches, and attacked, but Balarama cut the tree to pieces a hundredfold. Again and again, Dvivida attacked with trees, and each time, Balarama destroyed them, until the forest around was left treeless. Enraged, Dvivida unleashed a shower of rocks upon Balarama, but the Lord, wielding his club, crushed them all with ease. The monkey, his arms like palm trunks, formed his fists and struck Balarama on the chest with both hands. But the chief of the Yadus, setting aside his club and plough, seized Dvivida with both arms in wrath and pressed upon his collarbone. Overpowered, the monkey fell to the earth, vomiting blood. As Dvivida fell, the earth itself trembled in fear, along with the trees, O tiger among the Kurus, just as a mountain is rocked by the wind or a boat tossed upon the water.