As Pandu lay lifeless, his sons, accompanied by the great sages and celestial singers, gathered around him, their hearts heavy with sorrow. Tears streamed down their faces as they beheld the fallen king. The sages, seeing Pandu—who was like a tiger among men—felt as if the sun itself had set, or as if the vast ocean had dried up before their eyes. Grief overwhelmed them, and the wise ones, though themselves stricken, sought to comfort the Pandavas, who lamented the loss of their blameless father. In their anguish, they cried out, “Alas, O King! For whose sake do you leave us and ascend to the abode of the gods? Alas, O King, how is it that, meeting Madri, you have come to this end?” They mourned, “O King, my good fortune exhausted, you have departed, leaving behind Yudhishthira, Bhimasena, Arjuna, and the twins. For whom, O lord of the people, have you abandoned your beloved sons? Surely, the gods are now welcoming you, O descendant of Bharata.” The sages recalled, “Because you performed severe austerities among us in the assembly of Brahman, you will attain the blessed heavens together with us. The path followed by the Ajamīḍhas through their virtuous deeds—you had said you would journey there with us.” In their sorrow, they remembered, “O best of the Kurus, when I joined you in the forest, you promised we would go together. O lord of the people, grant me a moment to gaze upon your face.” Overcome by grief, Madri collapsed to the ground, unconscious, like a deer struck down by hunters in the forest. The Pandavas, led by Yudhishthira and devoted to the Vedas, came to their father’s side and also fainted, unable to bear the pain. When they regained their senses, they embraced Pandu’s feet and wailed, “Alas, we are destroyed, father! Alas, we are left without protection! Deprived of you, O great and wise one, how shall we, your children, live? Though we are sons of the lord of the world, we are now without a protector.” They lamented the strangeness of fate, “In a single moment, O great king, see how the world has changed: there are no princes as unfortunate as us, O descendant of Bharata. Because of your death, O king, and the loss of our kingdom, all of us Pandavas have now fallen into great misfortune. What shall we do, O king? What is to be done? Please show us your favor.” With deep reverence, they remembered, “By your great austerity, O king, you obtained us; giving up pride, you went to the forest and gathered food yourself for us. With wild vegetables, roots, and fruits, you sustained us. Fathers who desire greatness wish for sons like you. Desiring the fruits of dharma, artha, and kama, that time has now come; O king, you should not depart, O descendant of Bharata, without enjoying those rewards.” As they spoke thus to their father, Bhima too wept. He recalled, “The Bharata dynasty, once destroyed, was restored by Pandu; but when he went to the forest, the kingdom was lost, left without a ruler. Once again, the kshatriya order was expelled, but restored by Pandu’s five sons. Hearing this and approving, you should now depart, O Shankara. Having performed arduous austerities, we obtained you, O best of the Bharatas. Yet the fruit of great attainment—such as service and the like—has not been gained by you; nor was it ever gained before, as in the case of Dasharatha.” Having spoken thus, Kunti and Madri, both afflicted, began to lament. Kunti said, “I am the eldest lawful wife; the highest fruit of righteousness is mine. What is destined must surely come to pass—O Madri, do not restrain me. I will seek my husband here, who has gone under the sway of the departed; arise, abandon this, and protect these children. Having obtained sons and fulfilled my purpose, I now seek the state of a hero’s wife. I alone will follow my husband, who has departed; I am not satisfied with desires—O elder, let me be permitted.” Madri replied, “Having approached me, this best of the Bharatas is exhausted by desire; how then shall I sever that desire in the abode of Yama? For my king has been slain, O best of royal sages, and has gone to heaven; neither is my mind such, nor are my kinsmen thus disposed. I am unable to sustain my life without my husband; therefore I shall follow him as he goes to the realm of Vaivasvata. I could never live in the same manner among your children; for if I were to do so, great unrighteousness would touch me. Therefore, O queen, I must act toward your sons as toward my own; and I will seek my husband as he goes to the abode of Yama. For this king, desiring me, has gone under the sway of the departed; together with the king’s body, let this body of mine also be burned, well covered. O noble lady, do this dear thing; be vigilant regarding the children, as I have instructed you; therefore I do not see any advice to give you.” The sages, seeing the Pandavas and their mothers plunged into sorrow, sought to comfort them. They spoke gently to Kunti and Madri, consoling them—those noble women devoted to austerity. “O fortunate one, with young sons you must not die in any way. We will take the Pandavas, those scorers of foes, to the land of the Kurus. When unrighteousness arises from greed, Dhritarashtra is covetous; he may at some time not act toward the Pandavas as is proper. Among Kunti’s protectors are the Vrishnis and also Kuntibhoja; among Madri’s, the foremost of the strong, Shalya, her brother, a great chariot-warrior.” Thus, amidst the forest and the sorrow of loss, the family and the sages mourned Pandu, seeking solace and guidance as they prepared for the days ahead.