Dvivida, the mighty monkey, was driven by vengeance for his fallen friend. In his wrath, he unleashed devastation upon the land—setting ablaze cities, villages, settlements, and even the peaceful hamlets of cowherds. His fury knew no bounds: sometimes, he would uproot entire mountains and hurl them down, crushing regions beneath their weight, especially in Anarta, for there resided Hari, the slayer of his friend. At other times, Dvivida would stand in the midst of the ocean itself, and, with the strength of ten thousand elephants, lift up the waters in his powerful arms, flooding and submerging the lands along the shore. His rampage did not spare the sanctuaries of the wise—he destroyed the hermitages of great sages, breaking their sacred trees, and, in his wickedness, defiled their holy fires with his own filth. Arrogant and wild, Dvivida seized men and women, casting them into mountain caves and valleys, then crushing them with rocks as easily as a craftsman might crush insects. As he continued his reign of terror—ravaging lands and violating noble women—he suddenly heard sweet singing drifting through the air. Drawn by curiosity, he made his way to Mount Raivataka. There, Dvivida beheld a wondrous sight: Rama, the Lord of the Yadus, radiant and adorned with a garland of lotuses, his every limb resplendent, was surrounded by groups of women. Rama sang joyfully, his eyes unsteady from drinking Varuni, his form glowing like a mighty elephant in rut. The mischievous monkey climbed a tree, shaking its branches and making loud noises to attract attention. The young women, playful and fond of laughter, found his antics amusing and burst into laughter at his boldness. Dvivida, ever the trickster, mocked them further by flinging clods of earth and other things, and even displaying his backside, all while Rama watched. But Balarāma, enraged by the monkey’s insolence, hurled a rock at him. Dvivida, quick and cunning, dodged the rock and seized the wine jar instead. He mocked Balarāma, provoking him with laughter, and wickedly broke the jar, scattering Balarāma’s garments. Overcome with pride and insolence, Dvivida continued his disrespect, disturbing the region and its people. Seeing this, Balarāma’s anger blazed. He grasped his club and plough, intent on destroying his foe. Dvivida, mighty as ever, tore up a giant tree and struck Balarāma on the head. Yet Balarāma stood unmoved, like a mountain struck by lightning. The Lord caught the tree and retaliated, striking Dvivida with his club. The blow shattered Dvivida’s skull, and blood streamed down like a mountain streaked with red ochre. Unfazed, Dvivida seized another tree, stripped it of its branches, and attacked again, but Balarāma cut it to pieces a hundredfold. Tree after tree fell, and soon the entire forest stood bare. Enraged, Dvivida hurled a shower of rocks at Balarāma, but the Lord effortlessly crushed them all with his club. The monkey then used his arms, thick as palm trunks, to form great fists, and struck Balarāma’s chest with both. Balarāma, abandoning his club and plough, seized Dvivida in his powerful arms and pressed upon his collarbone. Overwhelmed, the monkey fell, vomiting blood. As Dvivida crashed to the earth, the ground trembled in fear, along with the trees, as if a mountain had been toppled by the wind or a boat rocked by the waves. From the sky, the gods, siddhas, and great sages cried out in jubilation: “Victory! Homage! Well done! Well done!” Showers of flowers rained down in celebration. Thus, having slain Dvivida, who had brought such distress to the world, Balarāma, praised by the people, returned to his own city. — Later, another tale unfolded: the marriage of Sāmbha and Balarāma’s dragging of Hastināpura. The Kauravas, angered, accused Sāmbha of misbehavior, saying, “This boy is ill-behaved; he has disregarded us and seized our unwilling daughter by force. Let us bind this insolent one—what will the Vrishnis do? They enjoy the land we have given, accumulated by 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, moved to bind Sāmbha. Seeing the Dhartarashtras pursuing him, Sāmbha, the great chariot-warrior, seized his splendid bow and stood alone, like a lion among lesser beasts. The Kurus, eager to capture him, shouted, “Stop! Stop!” and, led by Karna, showered him with arrows. Though struck by the Kurus, Sāmbha did not yield—like a lion unconcerned by the attacks of petty animals. Stringing his bow, he wounded all six chariot-warriors, including Karna, with his arrows, both together and one by one. With four arrows he struck their horses, with others their charioteers, and pierced the great bowmen themselves—earning their respect for his valor. But the Kurus overpowered him: four arrows slew his horses, one killed his charioteer, and another cut his bow. Thus, having bound him and made him chariotless with great effort, the victorious Kurus returned to their city with Sāmbha and their own daughter. When the Vrishnis heard this from Nārada, O King, they were filled with anger. Urged by Ugrasena, they prepared themselves to confront the Kurus.