A dreadful being, monstrous and terrifying, appeared with fierce fangs, a harsh mouth, and a brow that struck fear into all who beheld him. Naked and wild, he licked his lips with his own tongue, shaking a blazing trident and making a rattling sound that echoed ominously. His feet were as large as palm trees, and with every step he shook the earth. Surrounded by spirits, he advanced, burning all directions as he made his way toward Dvaraka. The people of Dvaraka saw this sorcerous fire approaching, and terror seized them as if they were deer trapped by a forest fire. In their fear, they rushed to Bhagavan Krishna, who was playing dice in the assembly hall. Crying out, they pleaded, “Save us, O Lord of the three worlds, from the fire that is burning our city!” Hearing their cries and seeing his people stricken with fear, Krishna, the refuge of all, smiled gently and reassured them, “Do not fear; I am your protector.” The all-pervading Lord, who witnesses all within and without, recognized this as the sorcerous act of Maheshvara. To thwart it, he ordered his discus, Sudarshana, which stood ready at his side. Suddenly, the Sudarshana discus blazed forth, shining with the radiance of ten million suns, as brilliant as the fire at the dissolution of the worlds. Its brilliance illuminated the sky, the directions, and the earth. With the power of Mukunda behind it, Sudarshana subdued the fiery being. O King, the fiery being, conjured by ritual, was struck down by the might of the discus-wielder’s weapon. Broken and defeated, it turned back and entered Varanasi, where it consumed Sudakshina and his priests—the very abhicara they had performed turned upon them. Then, Sudarshana entered Varanasi itself, burning its palaces, assembly halls, and markets, crowded with gates, towers, granaries, treasuries, elephants, horses, chariots, and stores of grain. Having burned all of Varanasi, the Sudarshana discus returned and stood once more at Krishna’s side, the doer of flawless deeds. Whoever, with focused mind, recites or hears this account of the praiseworthy Lord’s exploits is freed from all sins. The king, eager for more tales, asked, “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 to Sugriva, and the valiant brother of Mainda. Seeking vengeance for his friend, Dvivida brought ruin to the land. He set fire to cities, villages, settlements, and cowherds’ hamlets. Sometimes, he uprooted mountains and crushed regions with them—especially in Anarta, where Hari, the slayer of his friend, resided. At times, Dvivida would stand in the midst of the ocean, lifting its waters with his arms and submerging lands along the shore, his strength equal to ten thousand elephants. He destroyed the hermitages of great sages by breaking their trees, and, wicked as he was, defiled their sacred fires with urine and excrement. Arrogant, he seized men and women and cast them into mountain caves and valleys, then crushed them with rocks as a craftsman crushes insects. Thus, as he ravaged the lands and violated noble women, he 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. 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. Seeing his insolence, the young women—playful by nature and fond of laughter, companions of Balarama—burst into laughter. Dvivida mocked them by throwing clods of earth and other things, displaying his backside to them, all while Rama watched. Enraged, Balarama, the foremost of those who strike, hurled a rock at him; but the monkey, deceiving the rock, seized the wine jar. Grabbing it, he mocked Balarama, provoking him with laughter, wickedly breaking the jar and scattering Balarama’s garments. Intoxicated with pride, Dvivida acted insolently, overpowering Balarama and disturbing the regions. Seeing this disrespect, Balarama grew angry. He took up his club and plough, desiring to kill his foe. But Dvivida, mighty as ever, raised a giant tree with his hand and rushed swiftly, striking Balarama on the head. Yet Sankarshana stood unmoved, like a mountain struck from above. Balarama caught the tree and struck Dvivida with his club, shattering his skull so that blood streamed forth. Like a mountain stained with red ochre, Dvivida did not heed the blow. Again, he seized another tree and stripped it of branches with force. He struck fiercely, but Balarama cut it to pieces a hundredfold; Dvivida attacked again in anger with another tree, and that too was cut to pieces a hundredfold. Thus, fighting with the Lord, Dvivida pulled up all the trees around, making the forest treeless as each was destroyed again and again. Enraged, he released a shower of rocks upon Balarama, but Balarama, wielding his club, effortlessly crushed them all. The lord of monkeys, making his arms like palm trunks, formed his fists and approached the son of Rohini, striking him on the chest with both. But the chief of the Yadus, abandoning his club and plough, seized Dvivida with both arms in anger and pressed upon his collarbone. Dvivida fell, vomiting blood. As he fell, the earth trembled in fear, along with the trees—like a mountain rocked by the wind, or a boat on the water. In the sky arose shouts of “Victory!” and “Homage!” and cries of “Well done! Well done!” from the gods, siddhas, and great sages, as flowers rained down. Thus, having slain Dvivida, who had brought distress to the world, the Lord, praised by the people, entered his own city. Thus ends the sixty-seventh chapter, entitled “The Slaying of Dvivida,” in the tenth book, second half, of the Śrīmad Bhāgavata Mahāpurāṇa, the scripture for the paramahaṃsas.