The wondrous deeds of Murari—the slayer of evil, the playful companion in the meadows, the One who manifests and withdraws His divine forms, and who fulfills the deepest desires of the earth—are a source of supreme fulfillment for all who listen to or praise them. In the idyllic land of Vraja, the Lord delighted in childhood pastimes with His friends: hiding, building bridges, leaping about like monkeys, and engaging in endless games. Thus, their boyhood unfolded joyfully in those sacred forests. But time moved on, and a somber moment arrived. Sūta recounts how Arjuna, Krishna’s closest friend, found himself bereft and helpless. His elder brother, King Yudhiṣṭhira, was troubled by many doubts and tormented by the pain of separation from Krishna. Grief withered both his face and his heart, and his natural radiance faded. Yudhiṣṭhira, lost in meditation upon the Lord, could scarcely speak. Arjuna, too, struggled to restrain his sorrow. He wiped his eyes with his hand, overwhelmed by longing for the absent Lord. Remembering their friendship, their deep intimacy and affection—his own service as Krishna’s charioteer, and so much more—Arjuna turned to his elder brother, his voice choked with tears. “O great king,” Arjuna began, “I have been deceived by Hari, who came as my kinsman. By His grace I once wielded a power that astonished even the gods, but now that power has left me. Even a moment’s separation from Him makes the world joyless; deprived of His praise, I am as if dead. “It was by taking refuge in Him that I entered the palace of Drupada at the svayamvara, where proud kings had assembled. By His power, I defeated them and won the contest, thus gaining Krishna as my wife. In His presence, I gave the Khāṇḍava forest to Agni, conquered Indra and his hosts, and received the wondrous assembly hall built by Maya. Kings from all directions brought tribute for your sacrifice. “By your strength, noble Bhīma, your younger brother, whose might equals ten thousand elephants, subdued the lords of the earth for the great sacrifice, and they brought their tribute to you. Yet, at your great sacrifice, our queen, adorned for the royal consecration, was insulted in the assembly by gamblers. Her tears fell at your feet, her hair loosened when her protectors failed—such was the suffering of our women. “Who protected us in the forest, when we faced the severe hardships caused by Durvāsā, when enemies attacked, and when we, living on mere vegetables, had exhausted all means? It was He, by whose grace the three worlds are satisfied, who saved us from dangers even when surrounded in water. “By Your power, O Lord, even Shiva, armed with his trident and accompanied by his consort, was astonished in battle and surrendered his weapon to me. By this very body, I attained a seat of honor in Indra’s palace. There, while enjoying myself, my strong arms—marked by the bow Gāṇḍīva and meant for the destruction of enemies—were admired by the gods, with Indra at their head. They sought refuge with me. But now, O Lord, since Your departure, I am deprived of that power, like any ordinary man. “By His favor, O kinsman, I alone crossed the boundless ocean of the Kuru army with a single chariot, displaying the valor of great heroes. I reclaimed wealth and jewels from the enemy, and took the radiant crowns from their heads. He, the foremost of charioteers, went ahead of me in battle, adorning the circle of the best chariots on spotless nights, facing Bhīṣma, Karṇa, our Guru, Śalya, and others. With just a glance, He subdued the strength and minds of our adversaries. “By His grace, the mighty weapons of Bhīṣma, Karṇa, Drona, Śalya, Saindhava, and other great warriors—though unfailing and powerful—could not touch me, just as the weapons of the demons could not harm Nṛhari, the servant of Hari. Even in the battle at Prabhāsa, surrounded by those of evil intent, the Lord, whose lotus feet are worshipped by the virtuous for liberation, protected me. Though my horses were exhausted and I was on foot, the enemy charioteers, bewildered by His influence, could not attack me. “His playful, noble words—adorned with a charming smile: ‘O Pārtha! O Arjuna! Friend! Joy of the Kurus!’—linger in my heart and, when remembered, melt even this heart of stone. In sharing the same bed, seat, walking, talking, and eating together, I sometimes mistook Him for my equal, as a friend with a friend, or even as a father with his son. Yet, out of His great affection, He tolerated all my offenses born of ignorance. “But now, O King, bereft of that Supreme Person, my dear friend and beloved companion, my heart is empty. Though I have the protection of His great deeds, I am as helpless as a woman defeated by thieves, left alone on the road. That bow, those arrows, that chariot, those horses, and I as the charioteer—before whom even kings would bow—have all, in a moment, become powerless and useless, like offerings cast into ashes by the magic of illusion. “O King, by your will, the Yadus, who were not true friends to their own city, fell under the curse of the Brāhmaṇas and began to strike each other with their fists. Having drunk the liquor Vāruṇī, their minds agitated by intoxication, they could not even recognize each other, and fought among themselves until only four or five remained. “This is the inscrutable way of the Lord: living beings destroy each other, and also foster each other, by His arrangement. Just as in water, the larger aquatic creatures devour the smaller, so among men, the strong overcome the weak, and the powerful prevail over the less powerful. In this way, the Lord removed the burden of the earth by causing the mighty Yadus to destroy each other, just as the powerful destroy the less powerful. “The words spoken by Govinda—always appropriate to time, place, and circumstance—soothe the heart’s distress and captivate the mind of one who remembers them.” As Arjuna thus contemplated the lotus feet of Krishna with deep affection, his mind gradually became peaceful and pure. Through devotion and constant meditation on the feet of Vāsudeva, Arjuna’s mind was cleansed of all impurities, and he became established in the highest consciousness. He recalled the sacred knowledge sung by the Blessed Lord on the battlefield, and in doing so, overcame the darkness of time, fate, and delusion. Freed from all sorrow by attaining the state of Brahman, with all doubts of duality cut away, he merged into a state beyond the modes of nature, beyond bodily identification, and thus beyond birth. Yudhiṣṭhira, too, with his mind composed, having learned of the Lord’s departure and the end of the Yadu dynasty, resolved to follow the path to higher realms. Their mother, Pṛthā, upon hearing from Arjuna of the destruction of the Yadus and the Lord’s departure, fixed her mind in exclusive devotion to the transcendent Lord and withdrew from the cycle of birth and death. The unborn Lord, who had removed the earth’s burden, abandoned His body just as one uses a thorn to remove another thorn, discarding both together. Like an actor who assumes and then abandons many forms—such as that of a fish—so He who had removed the earth’s burden relinquished His body. When Mukunda, the Blessed Lord, departed from this earth along with His auspicious form, at that very moment, Kali—the age of unrighteousness—began to act upon those whose minds were not awakened. Yudhiṣṭhira, wise and discerning, observed the advance of Kali in his city, his kingdom, his household, and even within himself, manifesting as greed, falsehood, and violence. Recognizing this, he prepared to depart. Before leaving, the sovereign saw in his own grandson a reflection of his own virtues and discipline, and so he installed him as lord of the earth, at Hastināpura, on the banks of the sacred Ganges.