As the musicians filled the air with vibrant melodies and Cāṇūra bounded about the arena, the crowd erupted with shouts and cries. In the midst of this excitement, Muṣṭika struck his hands together, signaling the start of the contest. Into this charged atmosphere, two youthful heroes—Balabhadra and Janārdana—approached the entrance of the arena. Both bore gentle smiles, dressed as simple cowherds, still appearing as boys in the eyes of all. Suddenly, Kuvalayāpīḍa, the massive elephant, urged on by his chief mahout, charged at the two brothers with murderous intent. A great uproar surged through the arena. Witnessing the looming threat to his younger brother, Baladeva spoke: “This elephant, O greatly fortunate one, incited by the enemy, must be slain.” Thus addressed by his elder, Mādhava—Krishna, destroyer of enemy heroes—let out a resounding lion’s roar. With mighty strength, Krishna grasped the elephant’s trunk in his hand and whirled the beast about, displaying a force rivaling that of Airāvata, the king of elephants. Krishna, the Lord of all worlds, playfully darted between the elephant’s tusks, as if still a child at sport. Then, with his right hand, Krishna tore out the elephant’s left tusk and struck the mahout, whose head shattered instantly into a hundred pieces. At that very moment, Balabhadra wrenched out the right tusk and, filled with anger, struck down the elephant keepers who stood nearby. Swiftly leaping, the mighty son of Rohiṇī struck the elephant’s head with his left foot, and, thus struck in sport by Balabhadra, the great beast collapsed and died, like a mountain felled by Indra’s thunderbolt. Having slain Kuvalayāpīḍa and its drivers, their bodies now smeared with blood and ichor, the brothers armed themselves with the elephant’s tusks. Like two lions among deer, Balabhadra and Janārdana entered the great arena, casting playful, proud glances about. A great outcry arose from the vast assembly as the people marveled, exclaiming, “This is Krishna, and that is Balabhadra! This is he who slew the dreadful, child-killing Putana; who hurled the cart and broke the twin Arjuna trees! This is the boy who subdued the serpent Kaliya by climbing upon him, who held aloft the great Govardhana mountain for seven nights. Arishta, Dhenuka, and Keshi—those wicked ones—were effortlessly slain by this high-souled one. Behold, this is Achyuta! And here is his mighty-armed elder brother, Balabhadra, proceeding ahead with playful ease, a delight to the eyes and hearts of women.” The wise, skilled in the lore of the Purāṇas, proclaimed, “This very one is the cowherd who will uplift the Yadava lineage, now sunk low. Truly, he is a great portion of Vishnu, the source of all beings, descended to earth to relieve the world’s burden.” As the townspeople thus described Rāma and Krishna, at that very moment, Devaki’s breast, moist with affection, throbbed with emotion. Vasudeva, upon beholding the faces of his sons, felt the joy of youth return to him, as if old age had vanished. The women of the royal inner chambers gazed with wide, unblinking eyes, while the city ladies could not cease looking at him. They whispered among themselves, “Friends, look at Krishna’s face, with its deeply reddish eyes, adorned with drops of sweat from the exertion of the elephant fight. We see his face like a blooming autumn lotus, moistened with water and surpassing all others; let our eyes be fulfilled in this birth. Behold, O beautiful one, the great splendor of the boy marked with the Srivatsa, his chest—the destroyer of foes—and his pair of arms. Why do you not see Balabhadra, whose form is white as milk, as the moon, and as lotus stalks, now arrived wearing blue garments? See Balabhadra playing, O friend, with Muṣṭika and Cāṇūra, and behold the smile of Hari.” “Friends, look—Hari approaches Cāṇūra for wrestling; there is no hesitation here—are the elders permitting this? How can Hari, whose tender body is just entering youth, be matched against this great demon, whose form is hard as thunder? These two, with their graceful limbs, are in the bloom of youth, while the demon wrestlers, led by Cāṇūra, are exceedingly fierce. Indeed, this is a great transgression among those who judge wrestling matches: that a contest between a child and a strong man is witnessed in silence by the referees.” Śrī Parāśara continued: Even as the people spoke thus within the city, shaking the earth, the blessed Hari leapt into the assembly of people, his belt fastened tightly. Balabhadra, too, struck the ground and leapt about gracefully; it was astonishing that the earth did not break at every step. Then Krishna, of immeasurable prowess, faced Cāṇūra, while the demon wrestler Muṣṭika, skilled in wrestling, engaged Balabhadra. Hari and Cāṇūra clashed, hurling and striking with fists, their blows like thunderbolts, exchanging wrestling holds. Their great battle unfolded with kicks, pushes, and grappling, fierce and dreadful though weaponless, displaying their strength and vitality before the festival assembly. As long as Cāṇūra fought with Hari, the cowherds and townspeople held their breath, anxiously awaiting the outcome.