When Krishna and Balarama entered the city, a garland-maker caught sight of them. Dressed in radiant yellow and deep blue garments, their beauty was so striking that the garland-maker wondered if gods themselves had descended to earth. The two brothers, their faces blooming like lotuses, approached and requested flowers from him. Overwhelmed by their presence, the garland-maker humbly bowed to the ground, touching it with his head and supporting himself with his hands. Rising, he addressed them reverently: “The gracious lords have come to my house; I am truly blessed—surely, prosperity will be mine.” His face alight with joy, he offered them flowers freely, giving both the finest blossoms and others, delighted to serve such beautiful guests. Again and again, he bowed to these best of men, presenting them with fragrant, spotless garlands. Pleased by his devotion, Krishna granted him boons: “May fortune never leave you, O blessed one, so long as you remain devoted to me. You shall never suffer loss of strength or wealth, and your lineage will endure for as long as you live. After enjoying great pleasures in this life, by my grace, you will remember me at the end and attain the divine world. Let your mind always be set on righteousness; your descendants will live long lives. No affliction or fault will befall your family for as long as the sun endures.” Having thus spoken, Krishna and Balarama departed, honored by the grateful garland-maker. Continuing on the royal road, Krishna soon saw Kubja approaching. She was in the full bloom of youth, carrying vessels of ointment. Krishna addressed her with sweet words: “For whom are you carrying this ointment, lotus-eyed one? Tell me truly.” Kubja, filled with sudden affection for Hari and seemingly drawn to him by his very presence, replied warmly: “Dear one, do you not know? I am appointed by Kamsa, known as Trivakra, to prepare his ointments. No other ointment pleases him; I am the chief recipient of his favor and wealth.” Krishna then said, “This ointment is fragrant and worthy, O beautiful-faced one. Would you give us ointment suitable for our bodies?” Respectfully, Kubja replied, “Take it,” and offered them ointments fit for both Krishna and Balarama. Anointed with her ointments and clad in their blue and yellow garments, the two brothers shone brilliantly, like white and dark clouds in the sky, adorned with splendid garlands. Then Krishna, skilled in healing, gently lifted Kubja’s chin with his fingertips and, pressing with his feet, straightened her body. In that moment, her form was transformed—her crookedness vanished, and she became radiant, the most beautiful among women. Overcome with love and playful longing, Kubja caught hold of Krishna’s garment and entreated him, “Come to my house.” Seeing Balarama’s face, Krishna laughed and replied to the now-lovely Kubja, “I will come to your house.” Dismissing her with another warm laugh, he and Balarama continued on their way, their bodies still gleaming from the dust of devotion and their garments shining. They made their way to the bow-hall, adorned with garlands. When the guards questioned them about the precious bow kept there, Krishna stepped forward, seized the bow, and began to string it. With a mighty effort, he broke the bow, the sound echoing thunderously throughout Mathura. The guards rushed to challenge them, but Krishna and Balarama overcame and slew the guards, then departed from the hall. Meanwhile, word reached Kamsa that Akrura had arrived and that the great bow had been broken. Alarmed, Kamsa summoned his wrestlers, Chanura and Mushtika. “The cowherd boys have come before me,” Kamsa said. “You must kill them in wrestling, for they threaten my very life. If you defeat them, I will grant you any reward you desire, for these two are exceedingly strong. Whether by fair means or foul, you must destroy my enemies. Their death will bring you fame or at least a fitting reward.” After instructing the wrestlers, Kamsa called for the elephant-keeper and commanded, “Let the elephant stand at the entrance to the wrestling arena. Kuvalayapida must be stationed there, and when those cowherd boys arrive at the gate, they must be killed.” Having given these orders and seeing that all the seats were prepared, Kamsa, feeling his death drawing near, anxiously awaited sunrise. As dawn broke, the citizens of Mathura gathered and filled the seats. Kings and their attendants took their places on royal platforms, while the wrestlers and spectators assembled near the center of the arena, all arranged by Kamsa, who stood high above on a lofty platform. Separate platforms were prepared for the women of the palace, for the chief courtesans, and for the city women. Nanda and the cowherds were stationed on other platforms, and Akrura and Vasudeva stood at the edge. Amidst the city women was one, longing above all others to see Devaki’s son. Even at that final moment, she kept her eyes fixed, her heart set on the hope: “I will see my son.