Śuka began his narration. As the king observed the guests before him, he recognized them—not only by their voices and appearance, but also by the distinctive bowstring scars on their hands. He had seen them before, and now he pondered their presence. These royal figures, though kshatriyas, bore the marks of Brahmins. The king resolved: “I will give them anything they desire—even my own self, which is so difficult to relinquish.” He reflected on the story of Bali, whose fame remained pure and widespread, even after Vishnu, disguised as a Brahmin, deprived him of his wealth. Vishnu, seeking Indra’s riches, appeared as a Brahmin and received the earth from Bali, the Daitya king, who, though fully aware and self-restrained, still gave it away. The king thought, “What purpose does the body of a kshatriya relative serve, if it exists only for the sake of Brahmins? When the body falls here, great fame is attained.” With noble intent, the king addressed Krishna, Arjuna, and Bhimasena, believing them to be Brahmins: “O Brahmins, ask for whatever you desire. I will give you even my own head.” Then the Blessed Lord Krishna spoke: “O king, grant us battle, if you deem it proper to fight in pairs. We have come seeking combat, desiring nothing else but battle with the royal order.” Krishna continued, “This is Bhimasena, O Partha; his brother is Arjuna. Know me, Krishna, as their maternal uncle and your enemy.” Upon hearing this, the king of Magadha laughed loudly, anger rising within him. “Then, I will grant you battle, O fools,” he declared. Turning to Krishna, he said, “I will not fight with you, coward, whose valor is uncertain; you abandoned your own city, Mathura, and took refuge by the sea. This one,” he gestured to Arjuna, “is equal to me in age, but not in strength; Arjuna is not fit to fight, but Bhima is equal in might to me.” Having spoken thus, he handed a great mace to Bhimasena, took another for himself, and led them outside the city. There, the two mighty heroes, Bhima and Jarāsandha, equally matched, met on the battlefield. Wild with the thrill of combat, they struck each other with maces as powerful as thunderbolts. Their movements, intricate and swift, circled left and right like dancers on a stage. The sound of their maces colliding echoed like thunder, and their blows were like the tusks of elephants clashing in battle. With the speed of their arms, the maces struck shoulders, hips, feet, knees, and heads, shattering like branches when two blazing elephants fight. As their anger intensified, they battered each other with their iron-hard fists, the fierce sound of their blows ringing out from the slapping of their palms. The two warriors, equal in skill, strength, and vigor, fought so fiercely that neither’s speed diminished; the battle was perfectly balanced. Thus, O great king, twenty-seven days passed as they fought, while their friends watched during the nights. At one point, Vṛkodara (Bhima) spoke to his maternal cousin Krishna: “O Mādhava, I am not able to defeat Jarāsandha in battle.” Krishna, knowing the birth and death of the enemy, and aware that Jarāsandha’s life was sustained by Jara, infused Pārtha (Bhima) with his own energy and considered what to do. He devised a means to kill the enemy, and, whose vision never fails, Krishna gave a sign to Bhima by tearing a branch, demonstrating the method. Bhima understood Krishna’s sign. The mighty Bhima, foremost among fighters, seized Jarāsandha by the feet and threw him down upon the ground. Placing one foot upon Jarāsandha’s leg and grasping the other with his arms, Bhima tore him apart from the anus, like a great elephant splitting a branch. Those present witnessed 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 at the slaying of the king of Magadha. Bhima was embraced and honored by his companions, along with Krishna and Arjuna, 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. He held a lotus, mace, conch, and discus; adorned with a crown, necklace, bracelets, a girdle, and armlets. His neck shone with the finest jewels and was garlanded with forest flowers. The kings drank him in with their eyes, as if tasting him with their tongues. They seemed to smell him with their noses, embrace him with their arms; freed from sin, they bowed with their heads at Hari’s feet. Delighted by the sight of Kṛṣṇa, their fatigue from captivity vanished. The kings, palms joined, praised Hṛṣīkeśa with their words: “Salutations to you, Lord of gods, imperishable remover of the distress of those who take refuge! We have sought your shelter, O Kṛṣṇa—protect us, who are weary of this terrible cycle of birth and death. “O Madhusūdana, we do not blame you for the loss of our kingdoms at the hands of the Magadhan; O Lord, for us kings, your favor is the cause. “A king, swollen with pride from sovereignty and opulence, does not attain true welfare; deluded by your māyā, he considers impermanent riches to be unshakable. Just as children imagine water in a mirage, so too do those lacking discernment mistake illusory things for reality. “Formerly, blinded by the intoxication of prosperity, we, driven by the desire to conquer, competed with one another, mercilessly destroying our own subjects, O Lord, recklessly disregarding death before us.