At that time, the two divine brothers, Krishna and Balarama, wandered about with their garments dusted in golden and black powders. Equipped with Indra’s weapons, they appeared as resplendent as white and dark clouds drifting across the sky. They roamed freely over the earth, engaging in playful games with the perfected beings of the world, for they themselves were the lords of all realms. Delighting in their human forms and honoring the customs of human life, Krishna and Balarama wandered the forests, playing games suited to their youthful age and nature. There, the two mighty ones exercised together, swinging from branches, wrestling with each other, and hurling stones in friendly competition. One day, as they enjoyed these pastimes, the asura Pralamba, driven by a desire to destroy them, arrived disguised as a cowherd. Taking on a human form, Pralamba mingled easily among the boys, arousing no suspicion. He watched for an opportunity between the two brothers, but recognizing Krishna’s invincibility, he resolved to target the son of Rohini—Balarama. Soon, all the boys began to play a children’s game known as ‘Hari’s sport,’ forming pairs and leaping into the game together. Govinda (Krishna) was paired with Śrīdāmā, Balarama with Pralamba, while the other cowherds partnered among themselves. Thus, the game commenced with great excitement. In the course of play, Krishna defeated Śrīdāmā, Balarama overcame Pralamba, and the cowherds on Krishna’s side emerged victorious, while the others were defeated. As part of the game, the winners carried the losers on their backs, all making their way to the great Banyan tree named Bhāṇḍīra. Then, those who had been carried returned to their place. But Pralamba, revealing his true nature, swiftly lifted Balarama onto his shoulders and soared quickly through the sky, like a rain-laden cloud carrying the moon. As he sped away, the demon could not bear the increasing weight of Balarama and began to grow in size, swelling like a great cloud in the rainy season. Balarama saw the demon’s terrifying form—like a burning mountain, adorned with garlands, ornaments, and a shining crown. Pralamba’s eyes were as large as cartwheels, his appearance fierce, and his footsteps shook the earth. Yet, Balarama, the fearless son of Rohini, being carried away through the sky, called out to Krishna: “Krishna, Krishna! This demon, disguised as a cowherd, is carrying me off. See how he towers like a mountain! O Madhusudana, what should be done now? This wicked one is rushing away with me.” At that moment, the sage Parāśara relates, Govinda—knowing the true strength and power of Balarama—smiled gently and spoke to his brother: “Why do you so clearly assume this human disposition, you who are the innermost self of all, the secret of all secrets? Remember, O ancient one, cause of all causes and seed of the entire world, your true self—one alone, just as that which is in the single cosmic ocean. “Do you not know, Balarama, that both you and I are the one cause of the earth, and have come to the mortal world for the purpose of relieving its burden? The sky is your head, the rivers your hair, the earth your feet, your mouth the endless fire; the moon is your mind, your breath is the wind, and the four directions are your imperishable arms. The blessed Lord, the great soul, has a thousand faces, a thousand hands and feet, and countless forms; the origin of a thousand lotuses, the first-born—by thousands, sages praise you. “No one else, not even all the gods, knows your divine form, your form of descent; that is why it is worshipped. Do you not know that in the end, the universe dissolves into you alone? By you this earth is supported, O infinite form, bearing all that moves and does not move. Unborn one, you are time itself, the beginning of moments, and you are this world, manifesting in various forms from the beginning of creation. “Just as water is consumed by the submarine fire, becomes snow, and, joined with the rays of the sun on the snowy mountain, again becomes water—so too, when you withdraw, this entire world is absorbed into you; and when you are intent on creation, O Lord, the world again arises from you, beyond imagination. You and I, O soul of the universe, are truly one cause; for the sake of this world, we stand distinct in form. Recall me, the immeasurable Self; destroy the demon with your own self. Rely only on your human form, and act for the welfare of your kin.” Thus reminded by the great-souled Krishna, Balarama laughed aloud and began to torment Pralamba with his immense strength. His eyes reddened in anger, Balarama struck Pralamba on the head with his fist, so forcefully that the demon’s eyes burst outward. Pralamba’s skull shattered, and blood poured from his mouth as he fell to the earth, lifeless. Witnessing this wondrous deed, the cowherd boys rejoiced, praising Balarama and crying, “Well done! Well done!” After the demon was vanquished, Rama, together with Krishna, returned once more to Gokula, praised by all the cowherds. As Rama and Keshava wandered through the pastures, the rainy season passed and autumn arrived, bringing blossoming lotuses. The fish in the marshy waters suffered as the water receded, just as a householder suffers from attachment to children and fields. The peacocks, abandoning their pride, stood silent in the now barren forest, much like yogis discerning the emptiness of worldly existence. The pure, white clouds, having relinquished all their water, departed from the sky, just as the wise renounce their homes. The lakes, heated by the rays of the autumn sun, dried up, just as the hearts of embodied beings are shriveled by excessive attachment. Yet, the autumn waters, adorned with blooming lotuses, attained clarity and purity, just as the minds of the pure-hearted shine with understanding.