Hearing that Jarāsandha, the powerful king of Magadha, still remained unconquered, King Yudhiṣṭhira pondered deeply over the challenge. At that moment, Hari—Lord Kṛṣṇa—spoke up, suggesting the very strategy that wise Uddhava had previously described. With purpose and resolve, Bhīmasena, Arjuna, and Kṛṣṇa, bearing the marks of Brahmins, set out for Girivraja, the city where Jarāsandha, son of Bṛhadratha, dwelled. Arriving at the proper hour for guests, the three entered the house of Jarāsandha, disguising themselves as Brahmins and behaving according to custom. Addressing the king, they declared, “O king, know that guests have arrived—seekers from afar. O fortunate one, grant us what we desire.” They spoke of the nature of virtue and generosity: “What can the patient not bear? What is improper for the unrighteous? What is not to be given by the generous? Who is greater than 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 through the impermanent.” Jarāsandha listened and, recognizing their voices, appearances, and even the bowstring scars on their hands—having seen them before—he pondered their true identity. He realized, “These are my royal relatives, disguised as Brahmins. I will give even my own self, which is difficult to relinquish, as alms to them.” He recalled the enduring fame of King Bali, who, even after being deprived of his wealth by Viṣṇu disguised as a Brahmin, remained renowned. “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 for the sake of Brahmins? When the body falls here, great fame is attained.” With noble intent, Jarāsandha addressed the disguised guests: “O Brahmins, choose your desire; I will give even my own head to you.” Then Kṛṣṇa revealed their purpose: “O king, grant us battle, if you deem it fitting to fight in pairs. We have come seeking combat, desiring nothing else but battle with the royal order. This is Bhīmasena, O Partha; his brother is Arjuna. Know me, Kṛṣṇa, as their maternal uncle and your enemy.” Jarāsandha, now fully aware, laughed loudly and, angered, replied, “Then, I will grant you battle, O fools. I will not fight with you, coward,” he said to Kṛṣṇa, “whose valor is uncertain; you abandoned your own city, Mathura, and took refuge by the sea. This one,” he said of Bhīma, “is equal to me in age, but not in strength; Arjuna is not fit to fight, but Bhīma is equal in might to me.” Having spoken, Jarāsandha gave a great mace to Bhīmasena, took another himself, and led him out from the city. The two heroes, equally matched, met on the battlefield, wild with battle, striking each other with maces as mighty as thunderbolts. Their fight shone as they moved in intricate circles, left and right, like dancers performing upon a stage. The sound of their maces crashing was like thunderbolts, as they hurled them, reminiscent of elephant tusks clashing. With the speed of their arms, the maces struck each other's shoulders, hips, feet, knees, and heads, shattering like branches broken by two blazing elephants in combat. When their maces were destroyed, they battered each other with iron-hard fists; the fierce sound of their blows, like thunderbolts, echoed from the slapping of their palms. As they struck each other, equal in skill, strength, and vigor, the battle was indistinguishable, for neither’s speed diminished. Thus, twenty-seven days passed as they fought, while their friends watched by night. At one point, Bhīma said to Kṛṣṇa, his maternal cousin, “O Mādhava, I am not able to defeat Jarāsandha in battle.” Kṛṣṇa, knowing the secret of Jarāsandha’s birth and death—that his life was sustained by the joining of his body by the being named Jara—strengthened Bhīma and pondered what to do. Thinking of a means to defeat the enemy, Kṛṣṇa, whose vision never fails, gave a sign to Bhīma by tearing a branch, as if to demonstrate. Understanding this, the mighty Bhīma seized his enemy by the feet, threw him down upon the ground, and, placing one foot upon Jarāsandha’s leg and grasping the other with his arms, tore him apart from the anus, like a great elephant splitting a branch. The people saw the body split into two parts—one with a single leg, thigh, testicle, hip, back, breast, and shoulder; the other with one arm, eye, brow, and ear. A great outcry arose when the king of Magadha was slain; Bhīma was embraced and honored by his companions, along with the victorious and infallible ones. The Lord, creator of beings and master of himself, anointed Sahadeva, Jarāsandha’s son, as king of the Magadhas, and released the kings who had been imprisoned by Jarāsandha. Thus ends the seventy-second chapter, entitled “The Slaying of Jarāsandha,” in the second half of the Tenth Book of the Śrīmad Bhāgavata Mahāpurāṇa, the scripture for the paramahaṃsas. Śuka continued: Sixteen thousand eight hundred kings, defeated in battle and imprisoned, emerged from the mountain cave, dirty and clad in soiled garments. Emaciated by hunger, their faces dried up and tormented by confinement, they saw before them the dark-complexioned one, dressed in yellow silk. They beheld him marked with Śrīvatsa, four-armed, with lotus-like reddish eyes, a beautiful and gracious face, and shining makara-shaped earrings. In his hands he held a lotus, mace, conch, and discus; adorned with a crown, necklace, bracelets, a girdle, and armlets. His neck shone with the best of jewels and was garlanded with forest flowers. The freed kings drank in his divine form with their eyes, as if tasting him with their tongues.