Let us wrestle, boy, let us wrestle! In wrestling, the child was thrown and now wanders through eighty-four lakh births. In the first watch, it entered the arena of form, taking its turn with the chant "Soham, Soham." But seeing its companions, it forgot everything and fell under the throw of its own doing. In the second watch, it wrestled with great delight, following one rhythm after another. As the day grew long, everything seemed sweet, but the child did not know what lay ahead. In the third watch, it took its turn, and pride made its footing unsteady. Strain as you will, you shall fall; know this to be the certain truth. In the fourth watch, you wrestle with trembling hands and feet. The son of Surya the village headman, Yama, has caught you in his throw. Says Tuka, the wrestling frightened me, and so I abandoned the way of my companions. There is one boy of the Yadava clan, Vithoba, and I tend the cows in His company.