As Yudhishthira’s heart grew heavy with concern, he inquired anxiously about the well-being of the Yadavas. He asked after Sushena, Charudesha, and Samba—the son of Jambavati—and the other foremost Karsnis, wondering if they, along with their sons like Rishabha, were faring well. He extended his concern to the followers of Shauri, such as Shrutadeva, Uddhava, Sunanda, Nanda, Shirishanya, and the other leading Satvatas, hoping all were safe and prosperous. His thoughts lingered on all those who depended on the mighty arms of Rama and Krishna for their safety. Did these friends, bound by deep affection, still remember the Pandavas’ welfare? Was Govinda, the Lord, ever devoted to the Brahmanas and affectionate to his devotees, living happily in the splendid city of Sudharma, surrounded by friends? Yudhishthira wondered if Krishna, the primeval and infinite friend, remained in the ocean-like Yadu dynasty for the world’s welfare and prosperity. He pictured the Yadus, honored and protected in their own city, playing in supreme bliss like great heroes. He remembered how Satyā and the other sixteen thousand queens, having surpassed the celestial goddesses in beauty, received blessings befitting Indra’s beloveds by serving at Krishna’s feet, their highest duty. He marveled at the fearless Yadus, who, by the strength of their arms, entered the Sudharmā assembly hall—fit for the gods—having brought it to their city. Turning to his companion, Yudhishthira asked with gentle concern whether he was well, for he seemed pale and his radiance was diminished. Had he failed to obtain something, been disrespected, or was he troubled by long separation? He pressed further: Had he been disturbed by inauspicious omens or failed to fulfill promises to those in need? Had he, as a giver of refuge, ever turned away a Brahmin, a child, a cow, an elder, the sick, a woman, or anyone seeking shelter? Had he approached a woman improperly, or been defeated by superior or inferior paths? Had he eaten food meant to be shared with elders and children, or committed any act unworthy or beyond his means? Yudhishthira’s voice softened. Did his dear brother feel empty and deprived by his own kin, or was there some other sorrow? For if not, then there should be no grief. In the midst of these reflections, memories of Krishna’s youthful pastimes arose. The friends once welcomed Krishna, saying, “Welcome, you have come so swiftly! Not one of us has eaten; come, please eat well.” Hṛṣīkeśa, smiling, ate with the children, showing them the python’s skin, then led them back from the forest to the village. Adorned with peacock feathers, flowers, and fresh minerals, Krishna shone amidst the festival of flute and horn. He praised the calves, sang of holy fame, and entered the cowherd settlement, his arrival celebrated by the loving eyes of the gopīs. 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.” King Parikshit, listening intently, asked, “O Brahmin, how did such great love arise for Krishna at his birth, even among those who had never felt it before, not even for their own children? Please explain.” Śuka replied, “O king, for all beings, the self alone is most dear; others—such as children and wealth—are dear only because of the self. Just as attachment for one’s own self is strongest among embodied beings, it is not so for sons, wealth, and home, which are dear only by association. Even those who identify the body as the self do not hold the body as dear as the self, for even when the body ages, the hope for life remains strong. Thus, the self is dearest to all, and for its sake, the whole world exists. “Know Krishna to be this very self, the self of all selves. For the world’s welfare, he too appears here in embodied form by his own illusion. In truth, for those who know, Krishna alone is the abiding and moving reality—there is nothing else in this world. All meaning is established in being, and for Krishna, how could anything not of that nature be real? Those who take shelter at the tender feet of Murari, whose fame is pure and great, find the ocean of worldly existence shrunk to a calf’s hoofprint, and attain the supreme destination, untouched by misfortune. “All this I have told you, as you asked, about what Hari did in his childhood and what is renowned from his boyhood. Hearing and praising these pastimes—his destroying of evil, his play in the meadows, his manifest and unmanifest forms, and his fulfillment of the earth’s desires—a person attains all purposes. Thus, with such childhood games—hiding, building bridges, leaping like monkeys—they passed their boyhood in Vraja.” As this story was recounted, Sūta continued: “Thus, Krishna’s dear friend Arjuna, left without choice by his royal brother, whose mind was troubled by many doubts and tormented by separation from Krishna, sat with a withered heart and face, his radiance gone. Meditating only on the Lord, he was unable to speak. With great effort, he restrained his sorrow, wiping his eyes with his hand, overwhelmed by longing for the absent Lord. “Recalling their deep friendship, their intimacy and affection—his service as charioteer and more—Arjuna, his voice choked with tears, addressed his elder brother, the king: ‘O great king, I have been deceived by Hari, who appeared as my kinsman. My power, which astonished even the gods, is now taken away. By separation from him, even for a moment, the world seems joyless; deprived of his praise, I am as if dead. ‘By taking refuge in him, I entered the svayamvara of Drupada’s daughter, where proud kings were assembled; by his power, I defeated them, won the contest, and gained Krishna. In his presence, I gave the Khāṇḍava forest to Agni, and, having conquered Indra and his hosts, I obtained the wondrous assembly hall built by Maya; and kings from all directions brought tribute to your sacrifice. ‘By your power, O king, Bhīma, your noble younger brother, whose strength equaled ten thousand elephants, defeated the lords of the earth for the great sacrifice; and those kings, subdued, brought tribute to you.