Having honored the garland-maker with their gracious presence, Krishna and Balarama departed from his home, their hearts and bodies adorned with the devotion of that humble soul. As they proceeded along the royal road, Krishna’s gaze fell upon Kubja, a young woman radiant in the freshness of youth, carrying vessels of fragrant ointment. Approaching her with gentle sweetness, Krishna inquired, “For whom are you carrying these ointments, O lotus-eyed one? Tell me truly.” Kubja, her heart stirred with affection for Hari and drawn irresistibly by the sight of him, replied in a voice full of longing, “Dearest, do you not know? I am Trivakra, appointed by Kamsa himself to prepare these ointments. None other’s ointment pleases Kamsa for his enjoyment; I am the chief recipient of his favor and wealth.” Krishna, his words as fragrant as the ointments themselves, said, “These ointments are worthy and delightful, O beautiful-faced one. Give us ointment suitable for our bodies.” With reverence, Kubja responded, “Take it,” and presented Krishna and Balarama with ointments befitting their forms. As the two brothers anointed themselves, their bodies shone forth, one fair and one dark, adorned with bows in hand, resembling two clouds—one white, one black—floating in the sky, their luster heightened by the dust of devotion. Then Krishna, master of all arts, gently grasped Kubja’s chin, lifting it with the tips of his fingers. With the touch of his feet, he straightened her form, transforming her into a woman of surpassing beauty, radiant among all women. Overwhelmed with love and playful longing, Kubja clung to Govinda’s garment and invited him, “Come to my house.” Krishna, glancing at Balarama’s face and laughing softly, replied to the now graceful Kubja, “I will come to your house,” and with another laugh, dismissed her, delighting in the moment shared with his brother. Thus adorned with the dust of devotion and clad in blue and yellow garments, Krishna and Balarama made their way to the bow-hall, splendid garlands crowning their heads. Upon their arrival, the guards questioned them about the precious bow, but Krishna swiftly seized it and began to string it. With a mighty effort, he strung the bow so forcefully that it broke with a thunderous sound, its echo resounding throughout Mathura. Alarmed, the guards challenged the brothers, but Krishna and Balarama, unconquerable in valor, slew the guards and departed the bow-hall. News of Akrura’s arrival and the breaking of the great bow soon reached Kamsa. Disturbed, Kamsa summoned the wrestlers Chanura and Mushtika, instructing them, “These cowherd boys threaten my life. You must kill them in wrestling. If you destroy them, I will grant any desire you wish, for these two are exceedingly strong. Use any means—fair or foul—to slay them, my enemies. Their death will bring you fame and reward.” Kamsa also called for the elephant keeper, commanding, “Place Kuvalayapida at the entrance to the wrestling arena. When those cowherd boys arrive, let the elephant kill them.” With his orders given and the seats arranged, Kamsa, sensing his doom drawing near, watched anxiously for sunrise. Soon the citizens of Mathura filled the seats, kings and their attendants took their royal places, and the wrestlers and spectators gathered at the center of the arena, all arranged by Kamsa, who took his place upon a lofty platform. Platforms were also prepared for the women of the inner chambers, the chief courtesans, and the ladies of the city. Nanda and the cowherds were stationed on separate platforms, while Akrura and Vasudeva stood at the edge. Among the women was one, longing above all to see Devaki’s son, her gaze fixed in hope, thinking, “I will see my son.” As the musical instruments sounded and Chanura leapt about, the crowd roared and shouted, Mushtika striking his hands together to stir excitement. Into this charged arena entered the two young heroes, Balabhadra and Janardana, smiling slightly, dressed as cowherds, yet still boys in form, approaching the entrance. Suddenly, Kuvalayapida, urged on by his furious mahout, charged at them, intent on destruction. A great uproar arose in the arena. Seeing his younger brother, Baladeva spoke, “This elephant, incited by the enemy, must be slain, O greatly fortunate one.” Thus addressed, Krishna—the destroyer of enemy heroes—let out a resounding lion’s roar. With mighty strength, he seized the elephant’s trunk and whirled the beast about as effortlessly as Airavata himself. Krishna, Lord of all worlds, played for a time between the elephant’s tusks, sporting as if in the innocence of childhood. Then, with his right hand, he tore out the left tusk and struck the mahout, shattering his head into a hundred pieces. At that same moment, Balabhadra, seizing the right tusk, struck down the elephant keepers in his righteous anger. Thus, in the heart of Mathura, the two brothers, radiant in strength and compassion, began the fulfillment of their divine mission.