By the time He was a young pandit running His own school of Sanskrit grammar in Nabadwip, Nimai had already earned a reputation as the sharpest logician in a town famous for producing them. It was at this stage of His life — still a householder, still known simply as a brilliant and somewhat proud young scholar, with no outward sign yet of the sankirtana movement to come — that a celebrated traveling pandit named Keshava, honoured with the title Kashmiri Pandita for his mastery of poetry and rhetoric, arrived in Nabadwip.
Keshava Kashmiri Pandita had already toured the length and breadth of India as a "digvijayi" — a scholar who challenges the learned assemblies of every city he visits and, undefeated, claims the title of conqueror of all directions. He had reportedly triumphed over the greatest pandits of Kashi, Kanchi and countless other seats of learning, and arrived in Nabadwip expecting, as everywhere else, an easy victory that would add the town's proud reputation for scholarship to his own tally. He composed, in Nimai's honour and as a challenge, a hundred extempore Sanskrit verses in praise of the Ganges, verses so ornamented with alliteration and double meaning that no scholar present could immediately find fault with a single syllable.
The assembled pandits of Nabadwip, unwilling to be humiliated but unable to answer Keshava on his own terms, are said to have quietly appealed to the young Nimai — already known among them as unusually gifted despite His youth — to test the visiting scholar. Nimai listened to the hundred verses once, and then, with a courtesy that gave no hint of what was coming, praised one particular verse and asked with apparent innocence whether a certain compound word in it could bear a second meaning. When Keshava, puzzled, admitted he had not intended one, Nimai proceeded — verse by verse — to reveal that many of Keshava's own celebrated lines, read with strict grammatical rigor, actually contained flaws, redundancies or unintended meanings that a truly perfect composition should never contain, doing so with such deference and precision that the older scholar could find no honest way to disagree.
What makes the encounter remembered as more than an ordinary academic contest is the manner of Nimai's victory. He never boasted, never humiliated Keshava Kashmiri Pandita in front of the crowd, and never claimed to have "defeated" him; He raised questions as a respectful junior seeking clarification, allowing the older pandit himself to recognise the flaws. That night, so the histories relate, Keshava Kashmiri Pandita had a dream in which the goddess of the Ganges herself, whom his hundred verses had glorified, appeared to him and revealed that the young brahmana who had questioned him that day was in fact the Supreme Lord, and rebuked him gently for the vanity of digvijaya conquest. Shaken, Keshava returned the next morning, openly acknowledged Nimai's superiority, and the two are said to have parted as friends rather than rivals — Keshava Kashmiri Pandita continuing his life humbled of the very pride that had defined his career until then.
For Gaudiya Vaishnavas, the episode carries a double significance. On the historical level, it cemented, before the sannkirtana movement had even begun, Nimai's unrivalled position as the finest scholar Nabadwip — and by extension all of Bengal — could produce, a status that would later throw His voluntary abandonment of scholarly prestige for the humility of the holy name into even sharper relief. On the spiritual level, later Vaishnava commentators read the story as an early, still-veiled hint of who Nimai really was: even at the height of His fame as a logician, a moment's contact with Him was enough to reveal, in a dream, the presence of the Supreme Lord — a truth Nabadwip itself would not fully recognise until, a short time later, He returned from Gaya transformed forever.