Then the Lord, ever compassionate, assured his followers, “Do not fear.” With that, he strung an arrow to his mighty bow and released a celestial weapon upon the fortified cities. In response, arrows as radiant as fire emerged from the very orb of the sun. Like swift rays of light, these arrows were invisible as they sped toward the cities. When the arrows struck, all the inhabitants of those cities perished, falling where they stood. Yet Maya, the great yogi and master of illusion, gathered up the fallen and cast their bodies into a well filled with nectar of immortality. Touched by that divine nectar, the slain rose again, brimming with vigor and energy, as strong as thunderbolts, leaping skyward and piercing the clouds like flashes of lightning. Witnessing his efforts thwarted and seeing Vṛṣadhvaja lose heart, Lord Viṣṇu devised another means at that very place. At that moment, Brahmā assumed the form of a calf, while Viṣṇu himself became a cow. Together, they entered Tripura at the opportune time and drank up the nectar from the well. Though the demons beheld this act, they did nothing to stop it, deluded as they were. Realizing what had transpired, Maya, the great yogi, addressed the guardians of the nectar. Smiling gently and free from sorrow, he remembered those afflicted by grief and the workings of destiny, for he knew that none—whether god, demon, human, or any other—acts independently in this world. He reflected that what is ordained for oneself or another cannot be averted by anyone, for fate alone prevails. Then, with the power of his own yogic mastery, Maya performed the principal act of Shiva. Out of righteousness, knowledge, detachment, prosperity, austerity, learning, and action, he manifested all that was needed—the chariot, the charioteer, the banner, the horses, the bow, armor, arrows, and every other element. Fully armed and mounting the divine chariot, he took up the bow and arrow. Fitting the arrow to the bow, the Lord of Victory prepared himself in a single moment. With that arrow, O King, Hara—Shiva—burned the three impregnable cities to ashes. The heavens thundered with the sound of celestial drums, and the skies became crowded with hundreds of divine vehicles. The gods, sages, ancestors, and perfected beings rejoiced, showering flowers and proclaiming victory. The Apsaras, celestial dancers, danced in delight. Thus, having destroyed the three cities, the Lord—the destroyer of cities—praised by Brahmā and all the others, returned to his own abode. In this way, the wondrous deeds of Hari, who by his own power playfully imitates the ways of mortals, are sung by the sages. What more can be said? These stories themselves purify the world. Sūta continued: As the Lord approached the lands of Ānarta and his own prosperous regions, he blew his resounding conch shell, as if to dispel the sorrow of the people. That conch, white-bellied and high-pitched, touched by the Lord’s reddish lower lip and held in his lotus-like hand, rang out with a sound as pure as the call of a swan amidst a pond of lotuses. Hearing that powerful, fear-dispelling blast, all the people, eager to behold their Lord, came forth. Gathering together, their strength renewed, they honored him as one would a lamp shining in the darkness, ever content and fulfilled simply by his presence. With faces blossoming with joy and voices choked with happiness, they spoke to him as children would to a father who is both their protector and dearest friend: “We bow to you, Master, whose lotus feet are always worshipped by Brahmā, Shiva, and Indra. You are the supreme refuge for those who seek well-being, beyond even the reach of time, the supreme lord. “For our welfare, you are the creator, sustainer, and protector of the universe. You are our mother, friend, lord, and father; our true teacher and highest deity. By following you, we have become accomplished. Truly, we are blessed by you, for even the gods of heaven rarely behold what we now see: your face, radiant with loving smiles and glances, your form adorned with all auspiciousness. “O lotus-eyed one, whenever you departed for the Kurus or the Madhus, longing to see your friends, each moment became as long as millions of ages. Like eyes bereft of the sun, O Acyuta, so were our days without you.” As the people spoke these heartfelt words, the Lord, ever affectionate to his devotees, listened with a gracious smile and bestowed his loving glance upon them before entering the city. Protected by the clans of the Madhus, Bhojas, Dasharhas, Kukuras, Andhakas, and Vrishnis—whose strength was equal to his own—the Lord made the city secure, just as serpents guard the mystical city of Bhogavati. In every season, with all prosperity, surrounded by auspicious trees, creepers, hermitages, gardens, parks, and lotus ponds, the city shone with splendor. At the gates, doorways, and roads, festive arches were constructed, adorned with colorful flags and banners, shading the city from the sun’s rays. The grand avenues, streets, markets, and squares were swept clean and sprinkled with fragrant water, decorated with fruits, flowers, and grains. At every doorstep, pots brimming with yogurt, grains, fruits, and sugarcane were displayed, alongside offerings of incense and lamps. Hearing that their beloved Lord was arriving, Vasudeva, noble-minded Akrura, Ugrasena, the powerful Balarāma, Pradyumna, Charudeshna, and Samba, son of Jambavati—all overwhelmed with joy—abandoned their beds, seats, and meals to go forth in welcome. With the lordly elephant at the front and Brahmins chanting auspicious hymns, the procession advanced, accompanied by the sound of conch shells and trumpets, and the chanting of Vedic hymns. They approached joyfully with chariots, moved by both affection and awe. Hundreds of splendid elephants, adorned with shining earrings and radiant faces, enhanced the grandeur of the occasion. Dancers, actors, Gandharvas, bards, Magadhas, and singers celebrated by recounting the wondrous deeds and stories of the illustrious Lord. Amidst his relatives and the citizens who followed him, the Blessed Lord approached each person according to custom, honoring all. With humble greetings, embraces, hand-touches, and smiling glances, he comforted those who had been away and granted boons to others as they desired. He himself, accompanied by elders, priests, wives, and aged relatives, received blessings from others and entered the city, surrounded by singers. As Krishna proceeded along the royal road of Dvaraka, the noble women of the city ascended to the rooftops of their mansions, eager for the great festival of beholding his form. Though the residents of Dvaraka gazed upon him constantly, their eyes were never satisfied, for he is the abode of fortune and the very source of all beauty.