Arjuna, his heart heavy with grief and longing, spoke of the deep emptiness that had settled upon the world since Krishna’s departure. Even a moment’s separation from Krishna made everything seem joyless and lifeless, and without the sweetness of His praise, Arjuna felt as if he himself were dead. He remembered how, by taking shelter in Krishna, he had entered the svayamvara at the house of Drupada, where proud kings had gathered, and—by Krishna’s power—he had bested them all, winning the contest and the hand of Krishna herself. In Krishna’s presence, Arjuna had gifted the Khāṇḍava forest to Agni, defeated Indra and his celestial hosts, and received the wondrous assembly hall built by Maya. Kings from every direction had brought tribute to Yudhiṣṭhira’s grand sacrifice, all by Krishna’s grace. It was by Krishna’s power, Arjuna recalled, that Bhīma—Yudhiṣṭhira’s mighty younger brother, whose strength rivaled ten thousand elephants—had subdued the lords of the earth for the great sacrifice, compelling them to bring tribute. Yet, at that very sacrifice, Draupadī, Yudhiṣṭhira’s queen, adorned for the royal consecration, had been insulted in the assembly by gamblers. Her hair was loosened, her protectors defeated, and her tears fell at Yudhiṣṭhira’s feet—such suffering endured by the noble women. Arjuna remembered how Krishna had protected the Pāṇḍavas through every hardship: in the forest, when they were tormented by Durvāsā’s severe tests; when enemies attacked them; when, subsisting only on roots and vegetables, they had exhausted all means of survival. By Krishna’s grace, the three worlds were satisfied, even as danger surrounded them like water. By Krishna’s favor, even Śiva, armed with his trident and accompanied by his consort, was astonished in battle and surrendered his weapon to Arjuna. With that very body, Arjuna had attained a seat of honor in Indra’s palace. While he enjoyed the company of the gods, his strong arms—marked by the Gāṇḍīva bow and meant to destroy enemies—were admired by Indra and the other deities, who sought his protection. Now, with Krishna gone, Arjuna felt bereft of all that power, reduced to an ordinary man. He reflected on the favor by which he alone had crossed the vast ocean of the Kuru army with a single chariot, displaying the valor of great heroes, recovering wealth and jewels, and taking the radiant crowns from the heads of enemy kings. Krishna, as the foremost among charioteers, had led him in battle, adorning the circle of the best chariots on spotless nights, facing Bhīṣma, Karṇa, Drona, Śalya, and others. By Krishna’s mere glance, the strength and minds of the enemy leaders were subdued. By Krishna’s grace, the mighty weapons of Bhīṣma, Karṇa, Drona, Śalya, Saindhava, and other great warriors, though unfailing and powerful, never touched Arjuna, just as the weapons of the demons could not harm Nṛhari, the servant of Hari. Even in the battle at Prabhāsa, surrounded by foes of evil intent, the Lord—whose lotus feet are worshipped by the virtuous for liberation—protected Arjuna. Though his horses were exhausted and he stood on the earth, the enemy charioteers, their minds bewildered by Krishna’s influence, could not attack him. Arjuna’s heart melted as he remembered the Lord’s playful, noble words, spoken with a charming smile: “O Pārtha! O Arjuna! Friend! Joy of the Kurus!” Those words, when recalled, made even his heart of stone melt. He thought of the times he had shared the same bed, seat, walks, conversations, and meals with Krishna. Sometimes, in his ignorance, he had mistaken Krishna for his equal, as a friend with a friend, or even as a father with his son. Yet, out of deep affection, Krishna had tolerated all his offenses, born of ignorance. Now, bereft of that Supreme Person, his dear friend and beloved companion, Arjuna’s heart felt empty. Though he had the protection of Krishna’s great deeds, he felt helpless on life’s path, like a woman defeated by thieves and left alone. The bow, arrows, chariot, and horses that once commanded the respect of kings had, in a moment, become powerless and useless—like offerings cast into ashes by the magic of illusion. Arjuna lamented the fate of the Yadus, who, deluded by the curse of the Brāhmaṇas and by Krishna’s will, began to strike one another with their fists. Intoxicated by the liquor Vāruṇī, their minds confused, they fought among themselves, leaving only four or five survivors. Such, Arjuna mused, is the inscrutable way of the Lord: by His arrangement, living beings destroy and also foster each other. Just as large aquatic creatures devour the smaller, so among men, the strong prevail over the weak. Thus, the Lord removed the burden of the earth by causing the mighty Yadus to destroy one another, just as the powerful destroy the less powerful. Yet, Arjuna’s heart was soothed by the memory of Govinda’s words—always timely, appropriate, and comforting, captivating the mind of one who remembers them. As Arjuna contemplated the lotus feet of Krishna with deep affection, his mind became peaceful and pure. Freed from all residual impurities by devotion and constant meditation on Vāsudeva, Arjuna attained the highest consciousness. He remembered the divine knowledge sung by Krishna on the battlefield, and thus overcame the darkness of time, fate, and delusion. Freed from sorrow by attaining the state of Brahman, with all doubts of duality cut away, Arjuna merged into a state beyond the modes of nature, without bodily identification, and beyond birth. Yudhiṣṭhira, upon hearing of Krishna’s departure and the end of the Yadu dynasty, composed his mind and resolved to follow the path to the higher realms. Pṛthā, too, upon hearing from Arjuna of the destruction of the Yadus and Krishna’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 removes a thorn with another and discards both. Just as an actor assumes and then abandons forms, so He relinquished that body. When Mukunda, the Blessed Lord, left this earth along with His auspicious form, at that very moment, Kali—the cause of unrighteousness—began to act upon those whose minds were not awakened. Yudhiṣṭhira, wise and discerning, observed the advance of Kali—in his city, kingdom, household, and himself—manifesting as greed, falsehood, and violence, and thus prepared to depart. Seeing his own grandson, equal in virtues and discipline, he installed him as lord of the earth at Hastināpura, on the banks of the Ganges. In Mathurā, he installed Vajra as chief of the Śūrasenas, and then, performing the proper rites, the king drank the sacrificial fire. Having relinquished all attachments—relatives, followers, and possessions—Yudhiṣṭhira became free from possessiveness and ego, severing every bond. He offered his speech into his mind, his mind into his breath, and the other senses into darkness; his outgoing breath into death, thus entering the state of dissolution. He offered the five elements into each other, then into unity, and finally everything into the Self, and the Self into the imperishable Brahman. Clad in bark, fasting, with matted hair and head uncovered, Yudhiṣṭhira appeared as if dull, mad, or possessed, revealing his true form. Indifferent, he departed, not hearing like one deaf, and entered the northern path as the great souls had done before, meditating on the Supreme Brahman in his heart, from which there is no return. All his brothers, having resolved firmly, followed him, for the people of the earth had been touched and afflicted by Kali, the friend of unrighteousness.