Yudhiṣṭhira, the noble king, addressed the Lord of lords with deep reverence, praying that the power of serving His lotus feet be witnessed in this very world. He asked that, before all—those devoted to the Lord, those indifferent, and those in between—the true standing of the Kurus and Sṛñjayas be revealed. For the Supreme Soul sees all equally, knowing no distinction between self and other, ever immersed in His own bliss. Like a wish-fulfilling tree, the Lord’s favor arises only according to the service rendered, never otherwise. The Blessed Lord, hearing Yudhiṣṭhira’s words, replied, “O king, destroyer of enemies, your resolve is righteous. Because of it, your auspicious fame will be celebrated throughout the worlds. This great sacrifice you wish to perform is desired by sages, ancestors, gods, friends, even by us—and by all beings. Having subdued all kings and brought the world under your sway, gather the necessary materials and perform this grand sacrifice.” He continued, “These brothers of yours are born from portions of the guardians of the worlds. I am won over by you, who are self-controlled; I am unconquerable for those who lack self-mastery. None in this world surpasses me in power, fame, wealth, or opulence—not even the gods, much less earthly kings.” Hearing these words, Yudhiṣṭhira’s face blossomed with delight. Endowed with the Lord’s energy, he sent forth his brothers to conquer the directions: Sahadeva with the Sṛñjayas to the south, Nakula to the west, Arjuna to the north, and Bhīma to the east, accompanied by the Matsyas, Kekayas, and Madras. These heroic brothers subdued the kings in all quarters by their might and brought back abundant wealth for Yudhiṣṭhira, who was set to perform the sacrifice. But when he learned that the mighty Jarāsandha remained unconquered, Yudhiṣṭhira pondered deeply. Then Hari, the Lord, spoke of the means to overcome Jarāsandha—the very means Uddhava had previously described. So Bhīmasena, Arjuna, and Kṛṣṇa, all bearing the marks of Brahmins, journeyed to Girivraja, where Jarāsandha, son of Bṛhadratha, resided. Arriving at the proper time for guests, they entered his house, disguised as Brahmins, and acted according to custom. Announcing themselves, they said, “O king, know that guests have arrived—seekers who have come from afar. O fortunate one, grant us what we desire.” Jarāsandha reflected, “What is unbearable for the patient? What is improper for the unrighteous? What is not to be given by the generous? Who is superior to those who see all equally? He who, though able, does not earn lasting fame among the virtuous with his impermanent body is truly pitiable. Many—Hariścandra, Rantideva, Śibi, Bali, the hunter, the pigeon—have attained the eternal by means of the impermanent.” By their voices, their appearance, and the calluses on their hands—scars left by the bowstring—Jarāsandha recognized his royal guests, remembering them from before. He pondered, “These royal kinsmen are disguised as Brahmins. I will give them even my own life, which is so hard to renounce.” He recalled how the fame of Bali remained pure and widespread in all directions, even after Viṣṇu, appearing as a Brahmin, had taken his wealth. “Desiring Indra’s wealth, Viṣṇu as a Brahmin received the earth from Bali, who, though aware and restrained, still gave it. What purpose does the body of a kṣatriya serve, if not to give for the sake of Brahmins? When the body falls here, great fame is attained.” Thus resolved, he addressed Kṛṣṇa, Arjuna, and Bhīmasena: “O Brahmins, choose what you desire; I will give even my own head to you.” The Blessed Lord replied, “O king, grant us battle, if you consider it fitting to fight in pairs. We have come seeking combat, desiring nothing else but battle with the royal order.” He revealed their identities: “This is Bhīmasena, O Partha; his brother is Arjuna. Know me, Kṛṣṇa, as their maternal uncle and your enemy.” Hearing this, the king of Magadha laughed loudly, his anger rising. “Then I will grant you battle, O fools,” he declared. He turned to Kṛṣṇa, “I will not fight with you, coward, whose valor is uncertain—you abandoned your own city, Mathurā, and took refuge by the sea. This one,” he said of Arjuna, “is equal to me in age, but not in strength; Arjuna is not fit to fight, but Bhīma is equal in might to me.” He handed a great mace to Bhīmasena, took another for himself, and went out from the city. The two mighty warriors, equally matched, met on the field. Wild with the joy of battle, they struck each other with maces as heavy as thunderbolts. Their movements were intricate, circling left and right like dancers upon a stage. The sound of their maces clashing was like the crash of thunder, as if the tusks of mighty elephants were colliding. With the speed of their arms, the maces struck shoulders, hips, feet, knees, and heads, shattering as the branches of the sun break when two blazing elephants fight. When their maces were broken, the two, enraged, battered each other with iron-hard fists, the sound of their blows as fierce as thunderbolts, resounding from the slapping of their palms. So evenly matched were they in skill, strength, and vigor that the battle was indistinguishable—neither’s speed diminished. Thus they fought for twenty-seven days, while their friends watched over them through the nights. At last, Bhīma said to his cousin Kṛṣṇa, “O Mādhava, I am unable to defeat Jarāsandha in battle.” Kṛṣṇa, knowing the secret of Jarāsandha’s birth and death—that his life was sustained by Jara—fortified Bhīma with his own energy and considered the means to end the struggle. Then, the all-knowing Lord gave a sign to Bhīma: he tore a branch in two, showing the method to kill the enemy. Understanding this, mighty Bhīma, foremost among fighters, seized Jarāsandha by the feet and hurled him down upon the ground.