A dreadful demon once appeared in the form of a bull, his body dark as a rain-laden cloud, with sharp, menacing horns and eyes blazing like the sun. With every thunderous blow of his hooves, he tore up the earth’s surface, gouging great furrows into the land. His fury was evident as he licked his lips and gnashed his jaws again and again, his tail lashing wildly. His shoulders seemed bound with stone-like hardness, and his hump arched so high that none could rival its size. The demon’s back and limbs were smeared with dung and urine, spreading distress among the cows wherever he roamed. His neck hung low as he moved forward, his face scarred from battering against trees. In this terrifying bull form, the demon caused such havoc that the cows began to miscarry. He rampaged violently through the forests, destroying all in his path. At the sight of his dreadful, glaring eyes, the cowherds were seized with overwhelming fear. In their panic, the cowherds and their wives cried out, “Krishna! Krishna!” Hearing their pleas, Keshava, the Lord, let out a mighty lion’s roar and struck his palm in challenge. At that sound, the demon bull Ariṣṭa charged toward Damodara with his horns lowered and his fierce gaze fixed on Krishna’s chest. The wicked-souled demon rushed forward, intent on destruction. But Krishna, seeing the mighty demon-bull bearing down upon him, stood his ground, unmoved. With a playful smile and utter disdain, Krishna did not budge from his place. As Ariṣṭa drew near, Madhusudana seized him as a lion seizes its prey. Krishna struck the demon’s belly with his knee, grasping his horns firmly and holding them fast. With his pride and strength subdued, Krishna pressed Ariṣṭa’s neck as if wringing out a wet cloth, then tore off one of his horns and struck the demon with it. Blood gushed from Ariṣṭa’s mouth as he fell dead. The cowherds, overjoyed, praised Janardana with the same fervor that the gods once praised Indra when Jambha was slain. In this way, after Kakudmin had been slain, Ariṣṭa destroyed, Dhenuka struck down, Pralamba killed, and Govardhana Hill held aloft, after Kāliya the serpent was subdued, the two tall trees broken, Pūtanā slain, and the cart overturned—Nārada went to Kaṃsa and recounted, in order and without omission, all that had happened, beginning from the mysterious exchange of Yaśodā and Devakī’s wombs. Hearing these tales from Nārada, who had just returned from the company of the gods, Kaṃsa, wicked of mind, was seized with rage against Vasudeva. In a fury, he reproached Vasudeva before the entire assembly of Yādavas, reviled the Yādava clan, and brooded over what action he should take. He thought, “Before Balarāma and Krishna, though still mere boys, gain their full strength, I must slay them. If they reach maturity, they will be impossible to defeat. I will have the powerful wrestlers Cāṇūra and Muṣṭika kill those arrogant boys in a wrestling match. Under the pretext of the grand bow festival, I will summon them from Vraja and thus ensure their destruction.” With this resolve, Kaṃsa, his mind set on evil, summoned Akrūra and spoke to him: “O generous lord, listen to my words and do as I please. Mount your chariot and go to Nanda’s village of cowherds. There, the sons of Vasudeva—born from a portion of Viṣṇu—have arisen for my destruction and are growing up, wickedly. The grand bow festival will take place on the fourteenth day; you must bring those two for the wrestling matches. My wrestlers, Cāṇūra and Muṣṭika, skilled in combat, will fight them before the world. The elephant Kuvalayāpīḍa, driven by my chief mahout, will crush those wicked sons of Vasudeva, though they are but children. After they are slain, I will also kill Vasudeva, Nandagopa, and that other wicked one. I will slay my father and Ugrasena, both evil-minded. Then I will seize all the cattle and wealth of the cowherds, my enemies, and destroy the rest of the Yādavas, one by one. Except for you, O generous lord, all these Yādavas are wicked. Afterwards, I will rule this kingdom, free of thorns and Yādavas. Therefore, for my pleasure, O hero, go forth. Just as cowherds bring offerings to a buffalo, so too must you speak to them persuasively.” Thus commanded, Akrūra, a great devotee, was filled with joy at the prospect of seeing Krishna the next day. Saying, “So be it,” he quickly mounted his chariot and departed from Mathura, the beloved city of Madhu. Meanwhile, Keśi, the mighty demon horse, sent by Kaṃsa as his messenger and driven by a desire to destroy Krishna, arrived at Vrindavan. With his hooves he tore up the earth, and his mane whipped the clouds as he sped along the path of the sun and moon, coming to the cowherds. At the sound of his terrible neighing, the cowherds and their wives, terrified by the demon horse, ran to Govinda for refuge. Hearing their desperate cries of “Save us! Save us!” Govinda, his voice deep as a thundercloud, spoke with assurance: “Enough of fear, cowherds! Why should you be so afraid of Keśi? Does the valor of your noble race vanish in the face of terror? What is this insignificant, neighing, demon-powered, wicked horse that you should be alarmed? Come, come, you wicked one! I am Krishna, wielder of the bow like Pūṣan; I shall shatter all your teeth from your mouth!” With these words, Krishna stood ready to face the demon, his courage and strength shining forth, a beacon to all who sought his protection.