In days past, the wicked monkey Dvivida unleashed havoc across the sacred lands. He destroyed the hermitages of revered sages, breaking their trees and, in his depravity, desecrated their holy fires with urine and excrement. His arrogance knew no bounds—he seized men and women, casting them into mountain caves and valleys, then crushed them with rocks as a craftsman crushes insects. As he ravaged the earth and violated noble women, his ears caught the sound of sweet singing emanating from Mount Raivataka. Drawn by the music, Dvivida arrived at the mountain, where he beheld Rama—Balarāma, Lord of the Yadus—adorned with a garland of lotuses, his every limb radiant, surrounded by groups of women. Rama was singing, his eyes unsteady from drinking Varuni wine, his form glowing like a mighty elephant in rut. Dvivida, ever insolent, climbed a tree, shaking its branches and making loud noises to attract attention. The young women, companions of Balarāma, playful and fond of laughter, burst into giggles at the monkey’s antics. Dvivida mocked them, throwing clods of earth and other things, and shamelessly displayed his backside, all while Rama watched. Enraged, Balarāma—the foremost among those who strike—hurled a rock at the monkey. But Dvivida, cunning and quick, dodged the rock and seized the wine jar. He mocked Balarāma, provoking him with laughter, then wickedly broke the jar and scattered Balarāma’s garments. Intoxicated with pride, Dvivida overpowered Balarāma and acted with insolence. Witnessing his disrespect and the disturbance he caused throughout the region, Balarāma’s anger flared. He took up his club and plough, intent on slaying his foe. Dvivida, mighty and swift, raised a giant tree and struck Balarāma on the head, but Saṅkarṣaṇa stood unmoved, like a mountain struck from above. Balarāma caught the tree and struck Dvivida with his club, shattering his skull and causing blood to stream forth. Yet Dvivida, like a mountain stained with red ochre, ignored the blow. Seizing another tree, he stripped it of branches and struck fiercely, but Balarāma cut it to pieces a hundredfold. Again and again, Dvivida attacked with trees, and each time, Balarāma destroyed them, until the forest was left treeless. Enraged, Dvivida unleashed a shower of rocks upon Balarāma, but the Lord effortlessly crushed them all with his club. The monkey then formed his fists, making his arms like palm trunks, and struck Balarāma’s chest with both. In response, Balarāma abandoned his club and plough, seized Dvivida with both arms, and pressed upon his collarbone. Dvivida fell, vomiting blood. As he crashed to the earth, the ground trembled in fear, along with the trees—like a mountain rocked by the wind or a boat tossed upon the water. In the sky, the gods, siddhas, and great sages shouted “Victory!” and “Homage!” and praised, “Well done! Well done!” as flowers rained down. Thus, having slain Dvivida, who had brought distress to the world, Balarāma, praised by all, entered his own city. Thus concludes the sixty-seventh chapter, “The Slaying of Dvivida,” in the tenth book, second half, of the Śrīmad Bhāgavata Mahāpurāṇa, the scripture for the paramahaṃsas. Not long after, Sāmbha’s marriage took place, and another tale unfolded—Balarāma’s dragging of Hastināpura. The Kauravas, angered, said, “This boy is ill-behaved; having disregarded us, he has seized our unwilling daughter by force. Let us bind this insolent one; what will the Vrishnis do? They, who enjoy the land given to us, accumulated by our favor. If the Vrishnis come here upon hearing 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, attempted to bind Sāmbha. Seeing the Dhartarashtras pursuing him, Sāmbha, a great chariot-warrior, seized his splendid bow and stood alone, like a lion. The angry Kurus, desiring to capture him, shouted “Stop! Stop!” and approached with bows, showering him with arrows. Though struck by the Kurus, Sāmbha, the child of the Yadus, did not tolerate it, like a lion with petty animals. He strung his splendid bow and wounded all six chariot-warriors, including Karna, with arrows, simultaneously and separately. With four arrows, he struck four horses; with one each, the charioteers; and the great bowmen on their chariots—earning their respect. Yet, the Kurus made him chariotless: four struck four horses, one killed the charioteer, and another cut his bow. Having bound him and made him chariotless with difficulty in battle, the victorious Kurus entered their city with the prince and their own daughter. When Narada brought news of these events, the Vrishnis became angry. Urged by Ugrasena, they prepared to confront the Kurus. But Balarāma, pacifying the armed leaders of the Vrishnis, did not wish for conflict between the Kurus and Vrishnis, being the remover of discord. He went to Hastinapura in a radiant chariot, surrounded by Brahmins and elders of his lineage, like the moon among stars. Upon reaching Gajahvaya, Rama stayed in the outer gardens and sent Uddhava to inquire of Dhritarashtra. Thus, the tales of Balarāma’s valor and wisdom, and the unfolding events between the Vrishnis and the Kurus, continued to shine forth in the sacred narrative.