O Sanjaya, as I reflect upon the many events that unfolded, my heart has long been devoid of hope for victory. When I first heard of the countless hardships endured by the righteous Pandavas, who set out for the forest, suffering willingly out of love and devotion to their elder brother Yudhishthira, I felt my confidence wane. Even in exile, Yudhishthira was not alone; he was followed into the wilderness by thousands of noble Brahmanas—great souls who lived on alms—drawn to his virtue and leadership. How could I expect triumph over such righteousness? News reached me that, during their forest exile, the sons of Pritha were visited by ancient, illustrious sages, who, along with their disciples, became their friends and attendants. The favor of such holy ones only deepened my despair. Then I heard that Arjuna, known as Dhananjaya, ascended to the heavens and received divine weapons directly from Indra, learning their secrets and earning praise for his truthfulness. What hope remained, knowing the gods themselves favored the Pandavas? Further, Arjuna defeated the mighty Kalakeyas and the proud Paulomas—beings invincible even to the gods by virtue of boons. When he returned, crowned with success after destroying the Asuras in Indra’s world, I could no longer expect victory. Later, Yudhishthira, accompanied by the sage Lomasha, began a pilgrimage to holy places and obtained the secret of dice from Brihadashva. Such merit and wisdom made victory seem ever more distant. Bhima and his brothers even met with Vaisravana, the lord of wealth, in a region inaccessible to mortals. When my own sons were captured by the Gandharvas during a cattle expedition and released only through Arjuna’s valor—Arjuna, who took delight even in Karna’s wisdom—my hopes faded further. Yudhishthira’s encounter with Dharma in the guise of a Yaksha, who questioned him thoroughly and revealed deep truths, was yet another sign. How could I expect to prevail against those so favored by righteousness itself? The Pandavas, living in disguise with Krishna in the kingdom of Virata, went unrecognized by my people. Bhimasena, for Draupadi’s sake, slew Kichaka, the foremost among the Kichakas, along with his hundred brothers. Even when my foremost sons faced Arjuna alone on his chariot in Virata, they were defeated. The king of the Matsyas honored Arjuna and gave his daughter Uttara in marriage, and Arjuna accepted her for his son. All these events told me that destiny did not favor us. Despite being deprived of wealth, defeated, exiled, and separated from his kin, Yudhishthira still managed to assemble seven divisions of troops. Most ominous of all, Krishna—Madhava, Vasudeva himself, whose single stride encompasses the earth—was wholly devoted to the Pandavas’ cause. When Narada declared that Krishna and Arjuna were the ancient sages Nara and Narayana, and I myself witnessed this truth in Brahma’s world, my heart abandoned all hope. Krishna came to the Kurus seeking peace for the good of the world, but, despite his efforts, returned unsuccessful. He resolved to restrain his mind and revealed himself in many forms, showing his divinity. When Krishna departed, standing at the front of the chariot, and comforted the distressed Kunti, hope slipped further away. Vasudeva was their counselor; Bhishma, son of Shantanu, and Bharadvaja offered blessings to them. Karna withdrew from the army, declaring to Bhishma that he would not fight while Bhishma was engaged in battle. When I heard that Vasudeva and Arjuna stood together, wielding the incomparable bow Gandiva, and that three mighty warriors were united, I could not expect victory. Arjuna, overcome with exhaustion, sat in his chariot, and Krishna revealed to him the worlds within his own body—such wonders were beyond our reach. Bhishma, destroyer of enemies, struck countless chariots in battle, yet none among them were slain. Bhishma himself arranged for his death in accordance with righteousness, and the Pandavas rejoiced. When Bhishma, unconquerable and brave, was finally slain by Partha with Shikhandi before him, and when the aged hero lay on a bed of arrows, struck by brightly-feathered shafts, while the Somakas were left with few survivors, I could not hope for victory. Arjuna was urged to fetch water for Bhishma as he lay, and Bhishma was satisfied after piercing the earth. The stars themselves seemed aligned against us—Venus and the Sun favored the sons of Kunti, and ill omens constantly threatened our side. Drona, displaying every weapon and skill in battle, could not slay the foremost Pandavas. The Saṃśaptakas, great warriors positioned to destroy Arjuna, were themselves slain by him. The impenetrable battle formation, guarded by Bharadvaja with drawn weapons, was breached by Subhadra’s son, young Abhimanyu, alone. Yet, when all the great warriors surrounded and killed Abhimanyu, rejoicing in their deed, they still could not overcome Partha. After Abhimanyu’s death, my sons, deluded, cried out in joy, and Arjuna, filled with wrath, spoke harshly to the Sindhu king. Arjuna vowed to slay him and fulfilled that vow amidst the enemy. Even when Dhananjaya’s horses were exhausted, he unyoked them, gave them water, let them rest, and then yoked them again and set out with Vasudeva. The Pandava stood alone on his chariot, his steeds and axles battered, yet he held back all the warriors by himself. Yuyudhana, with his mighty elephant forces, broke through Drona’s terrible formation, and the two Krishnas followed him. Karna, after taunting Bhima with harsh words and striking him with the tip of his bow, released him from death. O Sanjaya, at every turn, in every sign, I saw that victory would not be ours.