As Yudhishthira sat, his heart weighed down by anxiety, he began to notice unsettling signs around him. His thighs, eyes, and arms trembled repeatedly, and his heart felt unsteady, as if something inauspicious were approaching. Disturbed, he observed a she-jackal with a fiery mouth howling at the rising sun, while a dog, frightened, cried at him. Animals circled him on both sides, and even his horses seemed to weep. A pigeon, which he perceived as a messenger of death, and an owl unsettled his mind with their ominous presence. The screeching of the night-owl further disturbed him, hinting at sleeplessness and emptiness to come. The quarters were filled with smoke, and the horizons trembled along with the mountains. Great thunderclaps echoed, accompanied by flashes of lightning. The wind blew harshly, scattering dust and darkness, while clouds rained blood everywhere in a dreadful manner. The sun’s brilliance was dimmed, and the planets collided in the sky. The heavens appeared ablaze, crowded with strange beings. Rivers and streams were agitated, and even lakes and minds seemed disturbed. Fires would not blaze, even when fed with ghee. Yudhishthira wondered anxiously what this time would bring. He saw calves refusing to drink from their mothers’ udders, cows not yielding milk, their faces tearful as they cried, and bulls in the herd lacking their usual joy. The deities themselves seemed to weep, sweat, and tremble. Towns, villages, gardens, lakes, and hermitages had lost their splendor and joy. All these portents pointed to misfortune. Yudhishthira reflected that, by these great omens, the earth must have been deprived of the feet of the Lord and those unique persons endowed with His fortune, and had lost its prosperity. While he was thus reflecting, his mind disturbed by these portents, Arjuna, the one whose banner bore the monkey, returned from the city of the Yadus. Arjuna approached Yudhishthira and fell at his feet—his demeanor unlike before, distressed, his face lowered, tears falling from his lotus-like eyes. Seeing his brother’s heart troubled and his appearance changed, Yudhishthira questioned him in the midst of friends, recalling the words of Narada. He asked, “Are our relatives in Anarta city living happily—the Madhus, Bhojas, Dasharhas, Ahukas, Satvatas, Andhakas, and Vrishnis? Is Shura, our maternal grandfather, well, and is his wife also well? Is our uncle Anakadundubhi, along with his younger brothers, safe? Are the seven sisters, their husbands, other maternal uncles with their sons, and their daughters-in-law, led by Devaki herself, all well? Is King Ahuka alive, and his wicked son and younger brother? Is Hridika with his son, Akrura, Jayanta, Gada, and Sarana well? Are Shatrujit and others safe? Is Rama, the Lord of the Satvatas, living happily? Is Pradyumna, the great chariot-warrior of all the Vrishnis, well? Is Aniruddha, deep in his passions, growing and blessed? Are Sushena, Charudesha, Samba—the son of Jambavati—and others, the foremost of the Karsnis, with their sons, like Rishabha, well? And likewise, are the followers of Shauri—Shrutadeva, Uddhava, Sunanda, Nanda, Shirishanya, and other chief Satvatas—well? Are all those who rely on the arms of Rama and Krishna safe? Do those bound by friendship remember our welfare? Is Govinda, the Lord, devoted to Brahmanas and affectionate to his devotees, living happily in the city of Sudharma, surrounded by friends? For the welfare, safety, and prosperity of the worlds, does the primeval, infinite friend, the man, remain in the ocean of the Yadu dynasty? When the Yadus are honored in their own city, protected by many strong arms, do they play in supreme bliss, like great heroes?” He continued, “By serving at the feet, which is their chief duty, do Satyā and the other sixteen thousand women, having conquered the celestial goddesses in beauty, receive blessings suited for the beloveds of Indra, the wielder of the thunderbolt? Do the foremost Yadus, who live by the rise of their many strong arms and are fearless at all times, forcibly enter the Sudharmā assembly hall, fit for the best of gods, with their feet, having brought it there?” Yudhishthira then turned to Arjuna himself, “My dear, do you remain free from illness? You appear to me as if your radiance has faded. Have you failed to obtain something, been disrespected, or stayed away for a long time? Have you not been struck by inauspicious things, such as sounds or other disturbances? Have you failed to give or fulfill what was promised to supplicants out of desire? Have you, as a giver of refuge, not rejected a Brahmin, child, cow, elder, sick person, woman, or any being who approached you for shelter? Have you not approached a woman who should not be approached, or one who is to be approached, or one who has been made your companion? Or have you been defeated by superior or inferior paths? Have you eaten food that should be shared with elders and children? Have you committed any act that is disgraceful or beyond your capacity? O dearest, do you always feel empty and deprived in your heart by your own kin? Or do you think otherwise? If not, then there is no sorrow.” Meanwhile, in another setting, the friends welcomed Krishna, saying, “Welcome to you, who have come so swiftly! Not one has eaten a morsel; come, please eat well.” Then Hrishikesha, smiling, ate together with the children, showing them the python’s skin, and turned back from the forest to the village. Adorned with peacock feathers, flowers, and fresh minerals, rich in the festival of flute and horn, praising the calves, singing holy fame, and with the gopis’ eyes celebrating him, Krishna entered the cowherd settlement. The children sang in the village, “Today, by the son of Yashoda and Nanda, the great serpent was slain and we are protected from it.” The king then asked, “O Brahmin, how did such great love arise for Krishna at his birth, even among those who had never felt it before, even in their own offspring? Please explain.” Shuka replied, “For all beings, O king, the self alone is most dear; others, such as children and wealth, are dear only because of that self.