As the seasons turned in the great Vraja, Krishna and Balarama, now seven years old, took up their roles as cowherds, guardians not only of their cattle but, in truth, of the whole world. Soon, the rainy season arrived, its skies heavy with clouds, and streams of water seemed to merge, joining the directions in their abundance. The earth flourished, adorned with fresh crops and teeming with Indra’s insects, its green fields shining like emerald studded with rubies. The rivers, swollen and wandering, gained a new beauty, much like the minds of those who, once unruly, grow radiant upon acquiring wealth. Yet Indra himself, master of unobstructed horses, did not shine forth in the sullied sky, just as the bold words of fools fail to impress the wise. Even with his mighty bow, Indra’s path through the heavens could not be attained, like a king without discernment unable to properly acquire his possessions. Upon the dark clouds, the pure lines of cranes gleamed, standing out as the noble conduct of a good person amidst the actions of the wicked. Lightning flickered restlessly, unable to bring stability to the sky, just as friendship offered by the wicked to the noble cannot endure. The paths became unclear, hidden beneath heaps of new grain, much like words that grow obscure when their meanings change. During these days, Krishna and Balarama, together with their cowherd companions, found delight in singing and dancing, sometimes seeking shelter under trees from the chill. They adorned themselves with garlands of kadamba flowers, peacock feathers, and pigments from the mountains, appearing in ever-changing forms. At times, they slept upon beds of leaves; sometimes, they wandered among the trees; and when thunder rolled from the clouds, they cried out in fear. They praised the singing of their friends, imitated the cries of peacocks, and playfully mimicked the speech of the cowherd women. One day, Bala and Keshava, tending their cows together, wandered through the forest and arrived at a grove of palm trees. In this grove dwelled a demon named Dhenuka, who, taking the form of an ass, feasted on flesh and guarded the place fiercely. Seeing the abundance of ripe fruit in the palm grove, the cowherd boys, their longing awakened, spoke to Krishna and Balarama: “O Rama! O Krishna! This place is always guarded by Dhenuka; that is why these ripe fruits remain untouched. See their fragrance spreading far—we wish to eat them. Please bring them down if you desire.” Hearing their words, Sankarshana and Krishna caused the palm fruits to fall to the ground. The sound of the falling fruit roused Dhenuka, the wicked ass-shaped demon, who came in anger. With his two hind legs, the powerful Bala struck Dhenuka on the chest, but the demon was not subdued by the blow. Bala seized him, spun him around, and Dhenuka’s life departed in the air; then, with great force, he threw the demon onto the king of grasses. A fierce wind swept through, causing many palm fruits to fall from the treetops, much as a strong wind scatters clouds. Balabhadra easily threw down the other donkey-shaped demons, relatives of Dhenuka, who had rushed to the grove. In a moment, the earth was adorned with ripe palm fruits and the bodies of the fallen demons, shining even more beautifully. The cows, now free from fear, grazed happily among the palms, enjoying the fresh grass that had never been tasted before. With Dhenuka and his followers destroyed, the palm grove became a place of delight for the cowherds and cowherd women. Filled with joy after slaying the demon, the sons of Vasudeva made their way to the banyan tree named Bhāṇḍīra. Calling out, singing, searching for trees, tending the cows from a distance, and calling each other by name, they wandered about. With ropes for binding calves slung over their shoulders and garlands of forest flowers adorning them, they shone like young bullocks with budding horns. Their garments were dusted with golden and black powders, and, equipped with Indra’s weapons, they resembled white and dark clouds. They roamed the earth, engaging in playful games with the perfected beings of the world, themselves the lords of all the worlds. Delighting in human ways and honoring their human form, they wandered the forest, playing games suited to their age and nature. Then, the two mighty ones exercised with swings and wrestling, and also with stones meant for throwing. At that time, an Asura named Pralamba, disguised as a cowherd, came among them, intent on killing them. Pralamba, the foremost of the Dānavas, took on a human form and mingled with the boys as an ordinary man, seeking an opportunity between the two brothers. He deemed Krishna invincible, and so resolved to kill the son of Rohini, Balarama. All the cowherds began to play the children’s game called ‘Hari’s sport,’ forming pairs and rising together. Govinda was paired with Śrīdāmā, Bala with Pralamba, and the other cowherds paired with one another; thus, the cowherds leapt into the game. Krishna defeated Śrīdāmā, Balarama defeated Pralamba, and the cowherds on Krishna’s side won, while the others were defeated.