Struck by mighty weapons, the inhabitants of the cities fell lifeless to the ground. Yet Maya, the great yogī, gathered their bodies and cast them into a well filled with nectar. As soon as they were touched by this nectar of immortality, they rose again, their strength renewed and energy blazing like thunderbolts. They soared upward, splitting the clouds with flashes as bright as lightning. Witnessing his resolve falter and seeing Vṛṣadhvaja disheartened, Lord Viṣṇu devised another means at that very place. At that moment, Brahmā took the form of a calf, Viṣṇu himself became the cow, and together they entered Tripura at the opportune time to drink the nectar from the well. Even though the demons saw this happening, they did not act to prevent it, for they were deluded. Realizing this, the great yogī Maya addressed the guardians of the nectar. He smiled, free from sorrow, remembering those afflicted by grief and the workings of destiny. For god, demon, human, or any other being—none is truly independent here. What is destined for oneself or another cannot be averted by either, for fate always prevails. Then, with his own powers, Maya performed the principal act of Shiva. Through righteousness, knowledge, detachment, prosperity, austerity, learning, and action, he manifested all that was needed for battle: the chariot, its charioteer, the banner, horses, bow, armor, arrows, and every other implement. Fully armed, he mounted the chariot, took up the bow and arrow, and in a single moment, the Lord of Victory stood ready for action. With that arrow, O King, Hara burned the three impregnable cities to ashes. The heavens resounded with the beating of drums, and the skies became crowded with hundreds of celestial vehicles. Gods, sages, ancestors, and perfected beings all rejoiced, showering flowers and proclaiming victory, while the Apsaras danced with delight. Thus, having burned the three cities, the Lord—destroyer of cities—was praised by Brahmā and the others. He then returned to his own abode. In this way, the 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 then spoke: As the Lord approached the lands of Ānarta and his own prosperous regions, he blew his resounding conch, as if to dispel the sorrow of his people. That conch, white-bellied and high-pitched, touched by the reddish lower lip of the mighty Lord and blown in his lotus-like hand, sounded like the call of a swan in a pond of lotuses. Hearing that resonant, fear-dispelling blast, all the people, eager to see their Lord, came forth. Gathered together, their strength renewed, they honored him as one would honor a lamp in the darkness, feeling ever content and fulfilled simply by his presence. Their faces bloomed with joy, and they spoke in voices choked with happiness, like children greeting a father who is both their protector and dearest friend. They offered their reverent salutations: “We bow to you, Master, whose lotus feet are always worshipped by Brahmā, Shiva, and Indra. You are the supreme refuge for all who seek well-being, where even time, the supreme lord, holds no sway. 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. “Ah, truly blessed are we, for even the gods of heaven rarely behold what we see: your face, radiant with loving smiles and glances, and your form adorned with all auspiciousness. O lotus-eyed one, whenever you departed for the Kurus or the Madhus, wishing to see your friends, each moment felt as long as millions of ages, like eyes bereft of the sun, O Acyuta.” As the people spoke these heartfelt words, the Lord, ever affectionate to his devotees, listened and bestowed his gracious glance upon them before entering the city. Protected by the Madhus, Bhojas, Dasharhas, Kukuras, Andhakas, and Vrishnis—whose strength was equal to his own—he made the city secure, just as serpents guard their city of Bhogavati. In every season, with all prosperity, the city shone with splendor, surrounded by auspicious trees, creepers, hermitages, gardens, parks, and lotus ponds. At the gates, doorways, and roads, festive arches had been constructed and adorned with colorful flags and banners, keeping even the sunlight at bay. The grand avenues, streets, markets, and squares were swept clean, sprinkled with fragrant water, and decorated with fruits, flowers, and grains. At the doors of each house, yogurt, grains, fruits, and sugarcane were arranged with full pots, offerings, incense, and lamps. Hearing that their beloved Lord was arriving, Vasudeva, noble-minded Akrura, Ugrasena, and the wondrously powerful Rama, along with Pradyumna, Charudeshna, Samba the son of Jambavati, and all the others, overwhelmed with joy, abandoned their beds, seats, and meals. Placing the lordly elephant at the front, accompanied by Brahmins chanting auspicious hymns, the sound of conch shells and trumpets, and honored by the chanting of Vedic hymns, they joyfully approached with chariots, moved by affection and awe. Hundreds of leading elephants, eager for his sight, with shining earrings and radiant cheeks, enhanced the splendor of the procession. Dancers, actors, Gandharvas, bards, Magadhas, and singers all sang of the wondrous deeds and stories of the illustrious one. The Blessed Lord, among his relatives and the citizens who followed him, approached each according to custom and honored them all. With humble greetings, embraces, hand-touch, and smiling glances, he comforted those who had been away and granted desired boons to others. Accompanied by elders, priests, wives, and aged relatives, he himself 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 their mansions, eager for the great festival of his sight. Though the residents of Dvaraka gazed upon him constantly, their eyes were never satisfied, for he is the very abode of fortune and the source of all beauty. His chest is the dwelling place of fortune, his face the vessel that delights the eyes, his arms the guardians of the world, and his lotus feet the refuge of the virtuous. Adorned with white parasols and fans, showered with fresh flowers along his path, wearing yellow garments and a forest garland, he shone like the sun surrounded by clouds, a rainbow, and lightning.