The king, eager to hear more of the wondrous exploits of Lord Rama—the immeasurable, infinite master—asked Shuka to recount what other marvelous deeds this divine being had accomplished. Shuka began: In those days, there was a mighty monkey named Dvivida. He was a friend of Naraka, a counselor to Sugriva, and the valiant brother of Mainda. Harboring a fierce desire to avenge his slain friend, Dvivida unleashed havoc across the land. He set cities, villages, settlements, and cowherds’ hamlets ablaze, leaving devastation in his wake. Sometimes, he would uproot entire mountains and crush regions beneath their weight, especially in the land of Anarta, where Hari—slayer of his friend—dwelt. On other occasions, Dvivida would stand amidst the ocean, and, with the strength of ten thousand elephants, he would lift its waters with his arms, flooding the lands along the shore. His wickedness extended even to the hermitages of great sages. He destroyed their trees and, in utter disrespect, defiled their sacred fires with urine and excrement. Arrogant and cruel, he would seize men and women, casting them into mountain caves and valleys, then crush them with rocks, as a craftsman crushes insects. Thus, as he ravaged the earth and violated noble women, Dvivida heard sweet singing from afar and was drawn to Mount Raivataka. There, he beheld Lord Rama, the beloved of the Yadus, radiant and adorned with a garland of lotuses, his every limb beautiful, surrounded by groups of women. Rama was singing, his eyes unsteady from drinking Varuni, his form resplendent like a mighty elephant in rut. Dvivida, filled with mischief, climbed a tree, shaking its branches and making loud noises to draw attention to himself. The young women, playful and fond of laughter, companions of Balarama, burst into giggles at the monkey’s insolence. Dvivida mocked them, throwing clods of earth and other things, and even displayed his backside, all while Rama looked on. Enraged by this disrespect, Balarama—the foremost among warriors—hurled a rock at Dvivida. But the cunning monkey evaded the blow and, emboldened, seized the wine jar. He mocked Balarama, provoking laughter, and wickedly broke the jar, scattering Balarama’s garments. Intoxicated with pride, Dvivida continued his insolence, overpowering Balarama. Witnessing the monkey’s disrespect and the chaos he had caused, Balarama’s anger flared. He took up his club and plough, determined to end Dvivida’s mischief. But Dvivida, of immense might, tore a giant tree from the earth and struck Balarama on the head. Yet, like a mountain unmoved by a blow from above, Sankarshana stood firm. With one motion, Balarama caught the tree and struck Dvivida with his club, shattering the monkey’s skull so that blood streamed forth. But Dvivida, undeterred, seized another tree, stripped it of its branches, and attacked again. Balarama cut it to pieces a hundredfold. Again and again, Dvivida attacked with more trees, but Balarama destroyed each one, until the forest was left treeless. Enraged, Dvivida hurled a shower of rocks at Balarama, but the Lord crushed them all with his club. The monkey then made his arms like palm trunks, formed his fists, and struck Balarama on the chest with both. Balarama, abandoning his club and plough, seized Dvivida with both arms and pressed upon his collarbone in anger. Dvivida fell to the earth, vomiting blood. As he crashed down, the earth trembled with fear, the trees shook, and it was as if a mountain had been rocked by the wind or a boat tossed on water. From the heavens arose shouts of “Victory!” and “Homage!”—cries of “Well done! Well done!” from the gods, siddhas, and great sages, as flowers rained down from the sky. Thus, having slain Dvivida, who had brought such distress to the world, the Lord, praised by all, returned to his own city. So 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. Now, let us turn to the next tale: the marriage of Sāmbha and Balarāma’s might at Hastināpura. The Kauravas, enraged, said among themselves, “This boy is ill-behaved; he has disregarded us and seized our unwilling daughter by force. Let us bind this insolent one—what can the Vrishnis do? They enjoy the land given by us, accumulated through our favor. If the Vrishnis come here upon hearing that their son has been restrained, their pride will be broken and they will become peaceful, like well-controlled breaths.” Thus, Karna, Shala, Bhuri, Yajnaketu, and Suyodhana, supported by the elders of the Kurus, set out to bind Sāmbha. Seeing the Dhartarashtras pursuing him, Sāmbha—the great chariot-warrior—seized his splendid bow and stood alone, like a lion at bay. The angry Kauravas shouted, “Stop! Stop!” and, approaching with their bows, Karna and the others showered him with arrows. Yet Sāmbha, the child of the Yadus and best among the Kurus, though struck by their arrows, did not yield, just as a lion is undaunted by lesser beasts. Stringing his bow, the hero wounded all six chariot-warriors, including Karna, with arrows, both together and separately. With four arrows he struck four horses, with one each the charioteers, and the great bowmen on their chariots; for this, they honored his skill. But soon, they made him chariotless: four arrows struck his horses, one killed his charioteer, and another cut his bow.