In the splendid city of Mahavati, there stood the auspicious house of Krishna. Within its walls, Krishna herself was weeping intensely, her heart filled with sorrow and reproach directed at you. Even as her lamentations filled the air, it was foretold that a mighty hero would soon arrive, accompanied by his formidable forces—a hero who would defeat your great-uncle Lahara, the renowned and powerful warrior. When these grave words reached the ears of King Makaranda, he was deeply shaken. Without delay, he summoned his own vast army—three hundred thousand strong—all equipped with gleaming swords, ready for battle. Meanwhile, Krishna reached her home and spoke to her commander. Gathering an even greater force of five hundred thousand, she set out for the city of Mayura. Their procession was mighty: five thousand catapults, ten thousand elephants, and after staying for just half a week in Pancala, the army pressed on. As these preparations came to light, King Makaranda steeled himself for the conflict, his arm adorned with a heavy mace. The news roused one hundred thousand foot soldiers, who took up catapults and fire, ready to defend their lord. At the southern gate of the village, the cavalry—one hundred thousand horses, all belonging to King Makaranda—advanced in formation. At the western gate, twenty thousand elephants stood ready, while forty thousand camel-mounted warriors formed a protective ring. The battle that ensued was fierce and terrifying, raging day and night without pause. Yet, as the struggle wore on, the defenders’ resolve broke, and abandoning the fight, they fled in all directions, scattering across the land. Amidst this chaos, the god—seated in the chariot of desire—appeared, with Ahlada mounted on a mighty elephant. The noble ones, relinquishing their swords, unleashed a devastating slaughter upon the enemy. Among these heroes was the powerful son of Agni, who rode a horse fashioned from stone. Together with Krishnaamsha and his companions, they surrounded the battlefield on all sides. In the thick of battle, Devasiṃha loosed an arrow, striking Tama as he sat upon his lap. Yet, by the power of the stone horse, Devasiṃha remained unshaken and free from confusion. Still, Shani’s arrow swept through the ranks, rendering all combatants unconscious. King Makaranda, undaunted, bound those who remained arrogant in battle. But as the tide turned and the heroes fell, Rūpaṇa was seized by fear. News of the defeat reached Brahmananda, who, with his army of a hundred thousand, acted swiftly. He composed a spotless letter and sent it to the king, proposing that his daughter, Pushpavati, be given in marriage to Krishnaamsha. Upon hearing this, the eminent King Mayuradhvaja was incensed and waged a terrifying battle against Brahmananda, a struggle that lasted a full day and night. In this fierce contest, Brahmananda engaged in a relentless exchange of arrows. At that time, Jayanta, son of Svarnavati and born of Shakra, also entered the fray. Then Sūta spoke: King Parimala, powerful and wise, performed an auspicious rite. He was joined by Pushpavati, who was skilled in the arts of song and dance. In the cold of winter, the hero and Pushpavati withdrew into secret sport, forsaking all worldly duties, for he was versed in every form of intimacy. As time passed, the portion of Krishna spoke, asking, “Who were you in your previous birth?” To this, the beloved replied, “In my former life, I was a king named Chandradāsa. Each day I worshipped the sacred Shalagrama stone. When the day of my death arrived, my mind was fixed unwaveringly on Shalagrama. It was then that Vishnu, the Lord of all and the embodiment of time, was invoked by Kali.