Just as ghee and curds are brought for the buffalo, so too must you instruct your people to quickly bring the cowherds,” commanded Kamsa, giving clear orders for the arrangements to be made. Akrura, the noble twice-born and a great devotee, received these instructions with joy, for he was eager to behold Krishna the very next day. Having respectfully replied, “So be it,” to the king, Akrura mounted his splendid chariot and set out from the city of Mathura, beloved of Madhu. Meanwhile, another danger approached Vrindavan. Keśī, mighty and powerful, sent as Kamsa’s messenger and intent on Krishna’s destruction, entered the sacred groves of Vrindavan. His hooves wounded the earth as he thundered along, his tail scattering the clouds, and he rushed along the very paths of the moon and sun, charging wildly at the cowherds. The terrifying sound of his neighing sent waves of fear through the cowherds, the demon-horse’s grooms, and the frightened cowherd women. All of them, in their distress, sought refuge in Govinda, Krishna himself. Hearing their desperate cries of “Save us! Save us!” Krishna, his voice deep as thunderclouds, addressed them with reassuring words: “Enough of fear, cowherds! Why be so afraid of Keśī? You are born of cowherds, and yet your courage is lost in fear. What is this lowly creature, whose neighing only causes alarm, this demon-powered, wicked horse leaping about?” Then, turning to face the demon, Krishna declared, “Come, come, wicked one! I am Krishna. Just as the wielder of Pinaka stands for Pūṣan, I will strike down every one of your teeth from your mouth!” Having spoken thus, Krishna clapped his hands and advanced toward Keśī. The demon-horse, mouth wide open, rushed at him in fury. Unperturbed, Janardana made his arm serpent-like and thrust it into Keśī’s gaping mouth. As Krishna’s arm entered, Keśī’s teeth shattered and fell away, like fragments of white clouds scattered in the sky. Within the demon’s body, Krishna’s arm began to grow in strength, swelling like an unchecked disease, unstoppable and overwhelming. Keśī’s lips split open, and he vomited blood mixed with foam; his eyes rolled in agony, and his jaws, unrestrained, gaped wider still. Struck down, he released dung and urine upon the ground, his body drenched in sweat, subdued, exhausted, and utterly powerless. At last, the demon, his mouth and body agape, was struck down by Krishna’s mighty arm. He fell, split in two upon the earth, like a great tree cleft by lightning. Of the horse’s body—his two legs, half his back and tail, one ear, one eye, and one nostril—when split in two, the two halves shone forth for all to see. Having slain Keśī, Krishna stood at ease, surrounded by the joyful cowherds. His body was unwearied, his mind at peace, and he smiled gently. The cowherd women and men, astonished at Keśī’s death, gathered around and praised Krishna, the lotus-eyed one, delighting in his affection. High above, hidden amidst the clouds, I, Narada, witnessed the slaying of Keśī and rejoiced in my heart. “Well done, well done, Lord of the world!” I exclaimed. “By your play alone, O Achyuta, this Keśī—who brought suffering even to the gods—has been slain by you. Eager for battle, I came from heaven to witness this great, unprecedented contest of men and horses. The deeds you have performed in this descent, O slayer of Madhu, fill my mind with wonder and satisfaction. “Even Indra and the gods trembled before this horse, O Krishna, as he shook his mane and neighed, gazing up at the clouds. Because you have slain this wicked Keśī, O Janardana, you will be renowned throughout the world as ‘Keśava.’ May all be well with you; I shall go now, and return again at the battle with Kamsa. Tomorrow I will come to you, O slayer of Keśī. “When Kamsa, son of Ugrasena, is slain along with his followers, you, upholder of the earth, will relieve the burden of the world. There, many kinds of wondrous battles will be led by you, O Janardana, and I must witness them. So now I go, O Govinda; a great task for the gods has been accomplished. All is known to you; may good fortune be yours, I take my leave.” When Narada had departed, Krishna, honored by the cowherds, entered Gokula, the sole object of the gopis’ loving gaze. Meanwhile, Akrura continued his journey, departing alone in his swift chariot, bound for Nanda’s Gokula to see Krishna. As he traveled, Akrura reflected joyfully, “There is no one more fortunate than I, for I shall soon behold the face of the wielder of the discus, who has descended in his own portion. “Today my birth is fulfilled; this night has been truly auspicious, for I shall see the face of Vishnu, whose eyes are like blooming lotus petals. Today my eyes are fulfilled; today my words are fulfilled, for my conversation will occur after seeing Vishnu. That face of Vishnu, whose lotus eyes dispel the sins of men when remembered, I shall see. “From him, the Vedas and all their limbs have emerged. I shall see that supreme abode, the radiant face of the Blessed One. He who is called the Purusha in sacrifices, the Supreme Person among men, the support of all—him, the Lord of the world, I shall see. Indra, having worshipped him with a hundred sacrifices, attained the sovereignty of the immortals; I shall see that beginningless Kesava. “Neither Brahma, nor Indra, nor Rudra, nor the Ashvins, Vasus, Adityas, nor the hosts of Maruts know his true form; yet he, Hari, will touch me.” With these thoughts, Akrura pressed onward, his heart overflowing with anticipation and devotion, eager for the blessed vision of Krishna.