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CHAPTER SEVEN and other warriors threw their own missiles to make it halt. The cakra, unhindered by them, like the current of an overflowing river by trees, came and struck Krşņa on the breast with its hub. The cakra, as if weaned apart by the policy of dissension, stayed at his side and Kșşņa took it in his hand like his own majesty that had been offered. “The ninth Väsudeva has arisen," the gods, proclaiming this, rained a shower of perfume and flowers on Krşņa from the air.
Kșşņa, feeling compassionate, said to the King of Magadha: “Take note, was this deceit of mine? Now go home. Acknowledge my command and again flourish with wealth. Lay aside conceit which has evil consequences. Live now, though old.” The King of Magadha replied: “You are hurling my cakra, which is like a fire-brand, cherished for a long time by me alone. Hurl it.” Then Janārdana hurled the cakra at Jarāsandha. Their very enemies' weapons become their own in the case of the great. The King of Magadha's head, cut off by the cakra, fell to the ground, but he went to the fourth hell. The gods rained flowers from the trees of heaven on Krşņa shouting, “ Hail! Hail!”
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