O King, some sages have spoken in various ways about these matters, yet if their words contradict themselves, surely they do not truly remember the essence. For where could there be grief, delusion, affection, or fear—those children of ignorance—in the presence of your unwavering wisdom, your undiminished knowledge and sovereignty? By serving the feet of the Lord and gaining knowledge of the self, the wise destroy the beginningless bondage of self-delusion. They attain their own infinite lordship—how, then, could confusion ever touch one who has reached the Supreme? Now, as Shalva launched a fierce attack with a multitude of weapons, the mighty Krishna, whose valor never fails, responded with a storm of arrows. He shattered Shalva’s armor, bow, and crown, and with his powerful mace, Krishna demolished the very fortress of Saubha, the stronghold of his enemy. Struck by Krishna’s mace, the Saubha, crushed by his hand, splintered into a thousand pieces and fell into the waters below. Abandoning his ruined fortress, Shalva seized his own mace, stood firm on the ground, and rushed swiftly at Achyuta. As Shalva charged, mace raised high, Krishna severed his arm with a razor-sharp arrow. Then, taking up his wondrous discus—blazing like the sun at the end of time—Krishna prepared to slay Shalva, who shone like the rising sun from the eastern mountain. With that very discus, Hari struck off the head of Shalva, the master of illusions, whose head was adorned with earrings and crown, just as Indra once slew Vritra with his thunderbolt. Cries of ‘Alas!’ echoed among men at the sight. When that wicked one fell and Saubha was destroyed by Krishna’s mace, celestial drums resounded in the heavens, played by hosts of gods. In anger, Dantavakra came forward, intent on avenging his friend. Thus ends the seventy-seventh chapter, called ‘The Slaying of Shalva,’ in the tenth book, second half, of the great and sacred Bhagavata Purana. The seventy-eighth chapter begins: The killing of Dantavakra and Viduratha, and the beheading of Suta by Balarama. Shuka continued: Even after Shishupala, Shalva, Paundraka, and others had departed this world, Krishna met their wickedness with transcendental friendship. Then, a single foot-soldier appeared—furious and wielding a mace, shaking the very earth as he advanced, O great king, with immense strength. Seeing him approach, Krishna quickly seized his own mace, leapt down from his chariot, and stood firm, like the ocean meeting the shore. Raising his mace, the Kārūṣa, swollen with pride, spoke to Mukunda: “By fortune, by great fortune, you have today come within my sight. You are our maternal uncle, O Krishna, yet you seek to kill me, your friend and ally. Therefore, O fool, I shall strike you down with my mace, hard as a thunderbolt. Then I shall be free of my debt, O friend of friends, by slaying an enemy who appears as a relative—just as one destroys a disease dwelling in the body.” With harsh words that stung like goads, he assailed Krishna as one would prod an elephant, and then struck him on the head with his mace, roaring like a lion. Yet, though struck on the battlefield, Krishna, foremost of the Yadus, did not move; and with his own mace Kaumodakī, he struck Dantavakra in the chest. The blow shattered Dantavakra’s heart, blood gushed from his mouth, and, his hair, arms, and legs outspread, he fell lifeless to the ground. Then, a most subtle and wondrous light emerged from Dantavakra and entered Krishna, as all beings looked on—just as had happened at the slaying of Shishupala, O King. Overwhelmed with grief, Dantavakra’s brother Viduratha came forward, sword and shield in hand, breathing heavily, intent on killing Krishna. As he rushed forward, Krishna, wielding his discus sharp as a razor, cut off Viduratha’s head—along with its crown and earrings. Thus, Krishna slew Shalva, the Saubha fortress, Dantavakra, and his brother—foes unbearable to others. The gods and men praised him; so too did sages, perfected beings, Gandharvas, Vidyādharas, great serpents, Apsarās, hosts of ancestors, Yakṣas, Kinnaras, and Cāraṇas. His victory was sung by them, and he was showered with flowers. Surrounded by the foremost of the Vṛṣṇis, Krishna entered the adorned city. Thus it is that Krishna, Lord of Yoga, the Blessed One, Lord of the universe, is perceived by those of animal vision as being conquered or victorious. Hearing of the preparations for war between the Kurus and the Pāṇḍavas, Balarama, under the pretext of pilgrimage, departed, choosing to remain neutral. Having bathed at Prabhāsa and satisfied the gods, sages, ancestors, and men, he traveled upstream along the Sarasvatī, accompanied by brāhmaṇas. He visited holy places—Pṛthūdaka, Bindusaras, Tritakūpa, Sudarśana, Viśāla, Brahmatīrtha, Cakra, and the eastern Sarasvatī. Following the Yamunā and then the Gaṅgā, he went to Naimiṣa, where the sages were engaged in a great sacrificial session. Seeing Balarama arrive, the sages, engaged in their long sacrifice, rose up, bowed, and honored him according to custom. Thus honored, together with his attendants, and having accepted the offered seat, Balarama beheld Romaharṣaṇa, the disciple of the great sage, seated there. Observing that the sūta did not rise, nor offer respectful folded hands, but remained seated, as did those brāhmaṇas, Mādhava became angry as he looked upon them. He thought: “Because this low-born man sits above these brāhmaṇas, the protectors of dharma, and above us as well, this wicked-minded one deserves death. Though he has become the disciple of the divine sage and has thoroughly studied many histories, Purāṇas, and all the dharma-śāstras—for one who is undisciplined and unrestrained, who vainly considers himself learned, such knowledge is of no virtue, just as for an actor who has not mastered himself. Indeed, for this very purpose have I descended into this world: those who wear the guise of dharma but are most sinful are to be slain by me.” Having spoken thus, the Lord refrained even from the killing of the wicked; yet, contemplating, he struck Romaharṣaṇa with a blade of kuśa grass held in his hand. All the sages, their minds distressed, cried out in lamentation, “O Lord Saṅkarṣaṇa, you have committed a wrongful act! O descendant of Yadu, we had granted him the seat of Brahmā, and life and freedom from fatigue for the duration of this sacrifice. Unknowingly, you have committed brahma-hatya, O master of yoga; even your name is not exempt from the law.