As the fateful night descended, Devaki, filled with fear and devotion, spoke to the divine child before her: “Today, O Lord, Kamsa seeks to kill me, for he knows you have descended and that you are here in my house.” With trembling reverence, she addressed the wondrous being before her—he whose form is infinite, who contains all the worlds within himself, who bears their very existence in his body, the supreme Lord of the gods. “May you, manifesting as a child by your own power, be gracious to us,” she prayed. With deep concern, Devaki implored, “Withdraw, O soul of all, this four-armed form of yours, lest Kamsa, that wicked son of Diti, discover your descent and bring harm.” The Lord replied with gentle assurance, “What I promised you before, when you desired a son, has now been fulfilled, O blessed one. I am born from your womb as you wished.” Having spoken thus, the Blessed One became silent. Vasudeva, Devaki’s devoted husband, took the divine child in his arms during the night and prepared to leave. By the power of Yogamaya, the palace guards and their horses were plunged into deep sleep, oblivious as Anakadundubhi—another name for Vasudeva—quietly departed from Mathura. Outside, the night was wild with storm; rain poured fiercely from the clouds. Shesha, the great serpent, followed Vasudeva, spreading his mighty hoods to shield him and the infant from the downpour. Steadfastly, Vasudeva carried Vishnu across the swirling, deep waters of the Yamuna, which, by divine grace, parted and rose only to his knees, allowing him safe passage. On the distant bank, after paying the customary tax to Kamsa, Vasudeva saw Nanda and the other cowherds who had journeyed from Mathura. At that very time, Yashoda, wife of Nanda, overcome by the spell of Yogamaya, gave birth to a baby girl, while all around her lay deep in enchanted slumber. Vasudeva gently placed his son beside the sleeping Yashoda and, taking the newborn girl, swiftly returned to Devaki’s bed that same night. When Yashoda awoke, she beheld a beautiful baby boy, dark as a blue lotus petal, and her heart overflowed with joy. Meanwhile, Vasudeva returned with the girl and laid her beside Devaki, just as before. Soon, the baby’s cries awakened the palace guards, who rushed to inform Kamsa that Devaki had given birth once more. Kamsa hurried to the chamber and seized the infant girl, ignoring Devaki’s desperate, tearful pleas—her voice choked with grief—begging him to spare the child. Unmoved, Kamsa hurled the girl onto a stone slab. But as she flew through the air, she miraculously remained suspended and transformed before their eyes into a radiant goddess, mighty and armed with eight powerful arms. With a resounding, fearless laugh, the goddess rebuked Kamsa: “Fool! What will you gain by throwing me? The one who will kill you has already been born.” Her voice thundered: “He who was once the death of all beings and the gods has now become your death. Consider this well and act swiftly for your own good.” Having spoken, the goddess, adorned with divine weapons, fragrance, and ornaments, vanished into the sky, praised by the Siddhas, as the king of the Bhojas watched in awe. Shaken and agitated, Kamsa summoned the great asuras—Pralamba, Keshi, Dhenuka, Putana, Arishta, and many others—and addressed them: “O mighty ones, listen! The gods have often sought my destruction, and Indra himself has tormented me, yet I do not fear them. What can Indra, whose power is feeble, or even Hari, the slayer of demons, accomplish against me? What can the Adityas, the Vasus, the Maruts, or any immortals—already subdued by my might—do to harm me?” He recounted how even Indra, the lord of the immortals, had fled from battle, and how the clouds had released their rain despite Indra’s efforts to hold them back. “Are there any kings on earth who have not submitted to Jarasandha’s supremacy?” Kamsa scoffed. “Among the gods, I feel only contempt; they are laughable to me.” Yet, he resolved, “Nevertheless, O lords of the Daityas, we must strive all the more to destroy those wicked ones, for they are evil-minded. All those on earth who are renowned or who perform sacrifices must be slain, to harm the gods.” Remembering the goddess’s warning, he added, “Even if death comes for me, so be it, as the maiden born from Devaki’s womb foretold. Therefore, wherever there are extraordinary children, or any child of unusual strength, they must be killed without hesitation.” Having thus commanded the asuras, Kamsa returned to his house and, in a rare gesture, released Vasudeva and Devaki from confinement. He spoke to them, “The children in your wombs whom I killed are now gone in vain; another child has arisen for my destruction. Do not grieve further; surely, those children were destined for that fate. Because of your fault, their lives were cut short.” He tried to console them, but suspicion still gnawed at his heart as he withdrew once more to his inner chambers. Now free, Vasudeva made his way to Nanda’s cart and found Nanda rejoicing, exclaiming, “A son has been born to me!” Vasudeva congratulated him warmly: “By great fortune, even in your old age, you have been blessed with a son.” He advised the cowherds, “You have all paid the annual tax to the king, and your purpose in coming here is complete. There is no need for you to remain; O Nanda, return quickly to your own village with your people.” Thus, the wheels of destiny turned, setting in motion the events that would shape the world.