ಕುಬ್ಜೆಯ ಅಸಾಧಾರಣ ಸೌಂದರ್ಯ, ಆಕರ್ಷಕ ನಗು, ಮಧುರ ಮಾತು, ಮೃದು ದೃಷ್ಟಿ—all these enchanted Krishna and Balarama. She, filled with affection, lovingly applied her rich sandalwood ointment on both of them. Now, adorned with this ointment, which shone with a hue different from their own, and having received this gift from another, Krishna and Balarama appeared even more radiant and captivating. The Lord, pleased by Kubja’s devotion, wished to show the fruit of beholding Him. With compassion, He decided to straighten the hunchbacked, beautiful-faced Kubja. Krishna placed His feet gently atop hers, lifted her chin with His upward-turned fingers, and drew her up. By the divine touch of Mukunda, Kubja’s body was instantly made straight and graceful; she became an enchantress with broad hips and full bosom. Now blessed with beauty, virtues, and generosity, Kubja, her heart awakened with desire, smiled and gently tugged at Krishna’s upper cloth. She spoke with longing to Keshava: “O hero, come to my house—I cannot bear to let you go! My heart is stirred by your presence. Please, best among men, show me your grace.” Hearing her earnest plea, Krishna smiled kindly as Balarama and their companions watched. He replied, “O lovely-browed one, captor of men’s hearts, I will come to your house. When our purpose here is fulfilled, you shall be our refuge as we wander.” With these sweet words, Krishna departed with Balarama along the merchant’s road. People honored them with gifts—betel leaves, garlands, and fragrant perfumes. The women of Mathura, overwhelmed by Krishna’s beauty and recalling His presence, lost all self-awareness; their garments, hair, and bangles slipped, as if they were mere painted figures. Krishna, eager to fulfill His mission, asked the townsfolk about the location of the great bow. Entering that place, He beheld the wondrous bow, resplendent like Indra’s own, guarded by many men and worshipped with great reverence. Though the guards tried to restrain Him, Krishna seized the bow with force. With playful ease, He lifted the bow with His left hand, strung it before all, and in a moment, bent it until it broke in half—like an elephant snapping a sugarcane stalk. The thunderous sound of the bow’s breaking echoed through sky, earth, and all directions. Hearing this, Kamsa was seized with terror. Enraged, the guards and their followers rushed at Krishna, shouting, “Seize him! Kill him!” But seeing their aggression, Balarama and Krishna grew angry; they seized the broken pieces of the bow and struck down the attackers, killing them all. Having vanquished Kamsa’s force, Krishna and Balarama joyfully left the hall and wandered the city, marveling at its splendor. The citizens, witnessing their extraordinary valor, radiance, and confidence, regarded them as gods among men. As the day ended and the sun set, Krishna and Balarama, along with the cowherds, returned to their wagon from the city. The gopis in Mathura, pained by separation from Mukunda, offered heartfelt blessings. Gazing upon Krishna’s beauty, even Lakshmi abandoned all others, desiring only Him. That night, their feet washed and having eaten food mixed with milk, Krishna and Balarama rested happily, fully aware of Kamsa’s intentions. Meanwhile, Kamsa, having heard of the bow’s destruction, the death of his guards, and the wondrous deeds of Govinda and Rama, was deeply disturbed. Sleepless and fearful, his mind was troubled by evil omens—some real, some imagined—heralding his impending death. He saw his own head missing in reflections, or doubled; strange patterns appeared in the stars; his shadow had gaps; he could not hear his breath; gold seemed to grow on trees; his footprints vanished. In dreams, he embraced the dead, rode donkeys, felt sorrow, wore garlands of nalada grass, was smeared with oil, and wandered naked. Plagued by these omens and the fear of death, Kamsa could find no rest. When night passed and the sun rose, Kamsa arranged a grand wrestling festival. The arena was splendidly decorated with garlands, flags, colorful cloths, and arches. Drums and trumpets resounded as townsfolk, villagers, Brahmin and Kshatriya leaders, and kings entered and took their seats according to their status. Kamsa, surrounded by ministers and regional rulers, sat on the royal platform, his heart agitated. As the music played, the wrestlers—adorned and proud—entered with their teachers. Chanura, Mushtika, Kuta, Shala, and Toshala took their places, delighted by the sweet music. The cowherds, led by Nanda and summoned by Kamsa, brought their gifts and entered together. Thus ends the forty-second chapter, “Description of the Wrestling Arena,” in the first half of the tenth book of the Śrīmad Bhāgavatam, the great Purāṇa, scripture of supreme renunciates. Shuka continued: Krishna and Balarama, having purified themselves, heard the booming sound of the wrestling drums and came to witness the event. As they approached the arena’s entrance, Krishna saw the mighty elephant Kuvalayapida stationed there, urged on by its keeper. Sauri, tying his belt and brushing aside his curly locks, addressed the elephant keeper in a voice as deep as thunder: “O elephant keeper, give us way and do not delay. Otherwise, today I shall send you and your elephant to the abode of Yama!