Kamsa, the powerful king, gathered his fierce allies and addressed them with commanding words: “O Pralamba, mighty-armed one! O Keshi! Dhenuka! Putana! Arishta, and the rest of you—listen to what I say.” He spoke of his many encounters with danger, saying, “The gods have often tried to kill me with evil intent, and even Indra himself has tormented me, but I pay them no heed. What can Indra, whose strength is small, or Hari, who wanders alone, truly accomplish? Even Hari, the slayer of demons who seeks out faults—what can he do? The Adityas, the Vasus, the Maruts, and all the other immortals have been subdued by the might of my arms—what power do they really have?” Kamsa recalled, “I have seen the lord of the immortals himself come to battle, only to flee, his arrows on his back, turning his chest away from me. And when Indra once withheld the rain from the land of the Madras, what came of it? The clouds, scattered by the Madras, still released their waters as they pleased. Are there any kings on earth, mighty in the strength of their arms, who have not submitted to Jarasandha as their superior? Among the immortals, O best of the Daityas, I feel only disdain—they are laughable to me, as are all others among them.” Yet, despite his scorn, Kamsa declared, “Nevertheless, O lords of the Daityas, I must strive even harder to bring harm to those wicked ones, for they are evil-minded. Therefore, all those who are renowned on earth, and those who perform sacrifices, must be slain completely, for this will harm the gods. Even if death, as it has before, comes for me—so be it. Thus spoke the maiden who was born from Devaki’s womb.” Determined, Kamsa commanded, “Wherever there are exceptional children on earth, wherever a child shows excessive strength, he must be killed with effort.” Having thus instructed the Asuras, Kamsa returned to his palace and released Vasudeva and Devaki from their confinement. He told them, “The children in your wombs whom I killed are gone in vain; another child has arisen for my destruction. Therefore, grieve no more—those children were destined for that fate. Because of your fault, their lives were cut short.” Consoling and releasing them, though still suspicious, Kamsa again withdrew into his inner chambers. Freed at last, Vasudeva went to Nanda’s cart and found Nanda rejoicing, for a son had been born to him. Vasudeva greeted him kindly, saying, “By good fortune, even in your old age, a son has been born to you.” He reminded Nanda and the other cowherds, “You have all paid the annual tax to the king; for that you have come, so you wealthy ones need not stay. The purpose for which you came is fulfilled—why remain here? Go, Nanda, quickly to your own cowherd village. There also is my own child, born of Rohini; you must protect him just as you do your own son.” Heeding Vasudeva’s words, Nanda and the cowherds, strong and able, loaded their goods onto carts and departed, having paid their taxes. While they dwelt in Gokula, the child-killer Putana entered at night. She took up the sleeping Krishna and offered him her breast. To any child Putana gave her breast, that child would perish in a moment. But Krishna, grasping her firm breast tightly with his tiny hands, became filled with anger and drank out her very life along with her milk. With a terrible, piercing cry, Putana’s limbs loosened and she fell dead to the ground, fearsome to behold. Awakened by the dreadful sound, the people of Vraja rushed to see Krishna lying in Putana’s lap, while she lay lifeless. In fear, Yashoda quickly took up Krishna and, to ward off any evil influence, waved a cow’s tail over him with her hand. Nanda, too, took cow dung and placed it on Krishna’s head, performing a rite of protection for him, and recited these words: “May Hari, the source of all beings, protect you—he from whose navel-lotus the world arose. May Keshava, the god who took the form of the Boar and held up the earth on the tip of his tusk, protect you. May Keshava, all-pervading, who as Narasimha tore open the chest of his enemy with sharp nails, protect you everywhere. May Vamana, who became Trivikrama and encompassed the three worlds in three strides, whose weapons shine, always protect you. May Govinda guard your head, Keshava your throat, Vishnu your secret parts and belly, and Janardana your thighs and feet. May Narayana, the imperishable lord of unimpeded sovereignty, protect your face, arms, forearms, mind, and all your senses. May your enemies—the Pisachas, Kushmandas, and Rakshasas—be destroyed, struck down by the sound of the conch and the weapons Sharnga, discus, mace, and sword. May Vaikuntha protect you in all directions, Madhusudana in the intermediate directions, Hrishikesha in the sky, and the Lord of the Earth on the ground.” Having thus performed the rite of protection, Nanda placed the child Krishna to sleep beneath a cart, on a bed prepared for him. The cowherds, seeing the enormous, lifeless body of Putana, were seized with fear and great astonishment. Once, as Madhusudana lay beneath the cart, he lifted his feet upward, seeking his mother’s milk, and began to cry.