Then, O King, the mighty demon Bāṇa, endowed with a thousand arms and bristling with many weapons, unleashed a furious shower of arrows upon the Lord who wields the discus. Undaunted, the Lord responded: again and again, with His razor-edged discus, He cut down every weapon that Bāṇa hurled from his many hands, and severed Bāṇa’s arms as easily as one lops branches from a tree. As Bāṇa’s arms fell away, Lord Bhava—Śiva, compassionate protector of his devotees—approached the Lord and spoke to Him. Śrī Rudra offered words of deep reverence: “You are the supreme Brahman, the highest light, hidden within the Brahman that is spoken of in words. Only those whose hearts are pure perceive You, vast and all-pervading as the sky. “Your navel is the ether, fire is your mouth, water your seed, the sky your head, the directions your ears, and the earth your feet. The moon is your mind, the sun your eye, the self your soul. I am the ocean, your belly; the serpent king is your arm. “Your hairs are the plants, the clouds your waters, Brahmā your hair, intelligence your creative power, Prajāpati your heart, and Dharma your very essence. Truly, you are the cosmic person, the model of all the worlds. “This descent of yours, O Lord beyond all impediments, is for the protection of dharma and the welfare of the world. Inspired by you, we comprehend the seven realms. “You alone are the primordial, unique Person, the fourth beyond; self-seeing, both cause and causeless. By your own power, you appear among us, unchanged, manifesting all qualities. “As the sun, concealed by its own shadow, projects both shadow and forms, so you, hidden by your own qualities, illuminate all qualities. O boundless light of the self, you reveal the qualities in all things and beings. “Those whose minds are deluded by your māyā become attached to children, spouses, homes, and so forth, and rise and sink, engrossed in the ocean of misfortune. “If, having obtained this human birth, a person with uncontrolled senses does not honor your feet, he is to be pitied, for he deceives himself. “He who abandons you, O Lord, his own beloved self, and instead chases after the objects of the senses, is like one who forsakes nectar to consume poison. “I, Brahmā, the gods, and the sages of pure mind—we have all surrendered to you, our dearest Lord, with our whole being. “You, who are the cause of creation, maintenance, and dissolution of the worlds, equal, tranquil, friend, self and god—the sole, nondual source of the universe—we worship you, O Lord, for liberation from birth and death. “This one, Bāṇa, is dear to me, beloved and obedient. I have granted him fearlessness, O Lord; let your favor be upon him, just as you showed mercy to the lord of the daityas.” The Blessed Lord replied, “O revered one, whatever you say, I shall do what pleases you. Whatever you decide, that is agreeable and approved by me. “This son of Virocana, though an asura, cannot be slain even by me, for a boon was granted to Prahlāda: neither he nor your lineage shall fall by my hand. “To humble his pride, I have broken his arms, and his vast army, which burdened the earth, has been destroyed by me. “Let four arms remain to him. He shall be ageless and immortal, chief among your attendants, and, O asura, he shall have no fear from any quarter.” Thus, having received fearlessness, Bāṇa bowed his head to Krishna, placed Pradyumna with his wife on the chariot, and brought him forward. Surrounded by a division of his army, adorned in fine garments and ornaments, with his wife beside him, he departed, honored by Rudra. He entered his royal city, splendid with flags, gateways, and guarded crossroads, to the sounds of conch, trumpet, and drum, welcomed by citizens, friends, and the twice-born. Whoever remembers Krishna’s victory and his battle with Shankara, rising in the morning, will never suffer defeat. Thus ends the sixty-third chapter, entitled ‘The Bringing of Aniruddha,’ in the tenth canto, second half, of the holy Bhagavata Mahapurana, the scripture of the supreme swan. After these events, Śrī Śuka continued: O best of the Kurus, Lord Balarāma, eager to see his dear friends, mounted his chariot and journeyed to Nanda’s Gokula. There, the cowherds and cowherd women, who had longed for his return, embraced him for a long time. Balarāma bowed to his parents, and they blessed him joyfully. They said, “May you and your brother, O Lord of the universe, always protect us, O Dāśārha.” They lifted him onto their laps, embraced him, and their tears of love bathed him. He respectfully greeted the elder cowherds, who were seated according to custom, each according to their age, friendship, and relationship to himself. Then, approaching the cowherd men, who gathered around him, he exchanged laughter, handshakes, and friendly gestures, and they asked after his well-being as he sat comfortably among them. Balarāma, his voice choked with affection, inquired after their welfare and that of their families, for all their burdens had been placed in Kṛṣṇa, whose eyes are like lotus petals. The cowherd men asked, “O Rāma, are all your relatives well? Do you, with your wives and children, still remember us? By good fortune, wicked Kaṃsa has been slain; by good fortune, your friends have been freed; by good fortune, having defeated your enemies, you have found safety in a stronghold.” The cowherd women, delighted to see Rāma, laughed and asked, “Is Kṛṣṇa, beloved of the city women, living happily? Does he remember his relatives, his father and mother? Will he ever come, even once, to see his mother? Or does that mighty-armed one remember our service to him? “For whose sake, O Dāśārha, did you and your brother abandon your mother, father, brothers, husbands, sons, and even sisters—your dearest kin? He left us suddenly, severing our bonds of affection. How, then, could such a one be trusted by women to keep his word? “How could the women of the city, wise as they are, accept the words of one so inconstant and ungrateful? Yet, enchanted by his charming stories, smiles, glances, and sighs, they do accept him, lovesick as they are. “What use is there for us, O cowherd women, in talking of him? Let us speak of other things. Time passes for us in his absence, if it passes for him as it does for us.” Yet, remembering the playful words, the lovely glances, the movements, and the loving embraces of Śauri, the women wept. Lord Saṅkarṣaṇa, skilled in many ways of persuasion, comforted them with heartfelt messages from Kṛṣṇa.