As Yudhishthira reflected, his heart weighed down by ominous signs, he spoke to his brother with deep concern. He described the unsettling omens that disturbed his peace: a pigeon, messenger of death, and an owl whose presence unsettled his mind, while the screeching of a night-owl foretold sleepless nights and emptiness. The very quarters seemed filled with smoke, the horizons trembled along with the mountains, and thunderclaps resounded, accompanied by flashes of lightning. The wind blew harshly, scattering dust and darkness, and the clouds rained blood everywhere in a dreadful manner. The sun’s brilliance was dimmed, the planets collided in the sky, and the heavens seemed ablaze, crowded with strange beings. Rivers and streams were agitated, even the lakes and the minds of people were restless; the fire would not blaze, even when fed with ghee. Yudhishthira wondered anxiously what this time might bring. He observed that calves would not drink from their mothers’ udders, nor did the cows yield milk; with tearful faces, the cows cried, and the bulls in the herd did not rejoice. The deities themselves seemed to weep, sweat, and tremble, while towns, villages, gardens, lakes, and hermitages had lost their splendor and joy. Yudhishthira questioned what misfortune these signs were pointing to. He concluded that, by these great omens, surely the earth had been deprived of the feet of the Lord and of those unique persons blessed by His fortune, thus losing its prosperity. While Yudhishthira was thus reflecting, his mind disturbed by these portents, Arjuna—the one whose banner bore the image of a monkey—returned from the city of the Yadus. Arjuna fell at Yudhishthira’s feet, unlike before, distressed, his face lowered, and tears dropping from his lotus-like eyes. Seeing his brother so troubled and changed in appearance, Yudhishthira questioned him in the midst of friends, recalling Narada’s words. He asked anxiously about their relatives in Anarta city: were the Madhus, Bhojas, Dasharhas, Ahukas, Satvatas, Andhakas, and Vrishnis living happily? Was their maternal grandfather Shura and his wife well? Was their uncle Anakadundubhi safe, along with his younger brothers? Were the seven sisters, their husbands, other maternal uncles with their sons, and their daughters-in-law, led by Devaki herself, all well? He asked after King Ahuka, his wicked son and younger brother, Hridika and his son, Akrura, Jayanta, Gada, and Sarana. Were those like Shatrujit and others safe? Was Rama, the Lord of the Satvatas, living happily? Was Pradyumna, the great chariot-warrior, well? Was Aniruddha, deep in his passions, growing and blessed? Were Sushena, Charudesha, Samba—the son of Jambavati—and others, the foremost of the Karsnis, with their sons like Rishabha, well? Were the followers of Shauri—Shrutadeva, Uddhava, Sunanda, Nanda, Shirishanya, and other chief Satvatas—well? He wondered if all those who relied on the arms of Rama and Krishna were safe, and if those bound by friendship remembered the welfare of the Pandavas. Was 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, did the primeval, infinite friend, the man, remain in the ocean of the Yadu dynasty? When the Yadus were honored in their own city, protected by many strong arms, they played in supreme bliss, like great heroes. Satyā and the other sixteen thousand women, having conquered the celestial goddesses in beauty, served at Krishna’s feet—their chief duty—and received blessings suited for the beloveds of Indra, the wielder of the thunderbolt. The foremost Yadus, living by the strength of their many arms and fearless at all times, forcibly entered the Sudharmā assembly hall, fit for the best of gods, 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 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?” He pressed further: “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?” With deep affection, Yudhishthira asked, “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 tale, the friends welcomed Krishna, saying, “Welcome to you, who have come so swiftly! Not one has eaten a morsel; come, please eat well.” Then Hṛṣīkeśa, 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 gopīs' eyes celebrating him, Krishna entered the cowherd settlement. The children sang joyfully in the village: “Today, by the son of Yaśodā 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.” Śuka 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. Just as attachment for one’s own self is strongest among embodied beings, it is not so for sons, wealth, homes, and other things that depend on possessiveness. Even among those who identify the body as the self, O best of kings, the body is not as dear as those who follow it. If the body is regarded as possessing ‘mine-ness,’ then it is not as dear as the self; for even when the body ages, the hope for life remains strong.” Thus, the narrative unfolds, weaving together the anxious reflections of Yudhishthira, the loving inquiries after kin, the joyous celebrations of Krishna’s deeds, and the profound teachings on the nature of love and the self.