Arjuna, once famed for his mighty arms marked by the bow Gāṇḍīva—arms that struck terror into the hearts of enemies and were admired even by the gods led by Indra—now sat in sorrow. He reflected, “While I delighted in the glory of battle, it was by the Lord’s grace alone that my arms had such power. Now, with His departure from this world, I am left as powerless as any ordinary man.” He remembered with longing how, by Kṛṣṇa’s favor, he had crossed the vast ocean of the Kuru army alone, with but a single chariot, displaying the valor of the greatest heroes. By that same grace, he had recovered immense wealth and jewels from the enemy, and seized the radiant crowns from their very heads. Arjuna’s mind went back to the battlefield, where Kṛṣṇa, the foremost of charioteers, led him forward. On those spotless nights, Kṛṣṇa adorned the circle of the greatest chariots, facing mighty warriors like Bhīṣma, Karṇa, Droṇa, Śalya, and others. With but a glance, He subdued the strength and will of Arjuna’s enemies. It was Kṛṣṇa’s mercy alone that protected Arjuna from the unfailing and powerful weapons of Bhīṣma, Karṇa, Droṇa, Śalya, Saindhava, and others. Though their weapons never failed, not one could touch Arjuna—just as the weapons of demons could not harm Nṛhari, the servant of Hari. He recalled the desperate battle at Prabhāsa, when, surrounded by enemies of evil intent, his horses exhausted and himself standing defenseless on the earth, it was the Lord—whose lotus feet are worshipped by the virtuous for liberation—who protected him. The enemy charioteers, bewildered by the Lord’s influence, could not even approach. Arjuna’s heart melted as he remembered the Lord’s playful, noble words, always adorned with a charming smile: “O Pārtha! O Arjuna! Friend! Joy of the Kurus!” These words, whenever recalled, softened his heart, no matter how hard it had become. He thought of the times spent in intimacy with Kṛṣṇa—sharing the same bed, seat, walks, conversations, and meals. Sometimes, mistaking Kṛṣṇa for an equal or a friend, or even like a son with his father, Arjuna had been deceived by His human-like ways. Yet, out of deep affection, Kṛṣṇa tolerated all Arjuna’s offenses born of ignorance. Now, Arjuna confessed, “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 like a woman defeated by thieves, left helpless on the path of life.” He lamented, “That bow, those arrows, that chariot, those horses, and I as the charioteer—before whom even kings would bow—have all become powerless and useless in an instant, as if offerings cast into ashes by the magic of illusion.” Turning to the fate of the Yadus, Arjuna said, “O King, by Your will, the Yadus, who were not true friends even to their own city, became deluded by the curse of the Brāhmaṇas and began to strike each other with their fists. Drunk on Vāruṇī liquor, their minds agitated by intoxication, they fought among themselves, unable to recognize one another, until only four or five remained.” He reflected, “O King, such are the inscrutable actions of the Lord: by His arrangement, living beings destroy and also foster each other. 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.” Arjuna’s mind returned to Kṛṣṇa’s words: “The words spoken by Govinda, appropriate to time, place, and circumstance, soothe the heart’s distress and captivate the mind of one who remembers them.” As Arjuna contemplated the Lord’s lotus feet with deep affection, his mind became peaceful and pure. Through devotion and constant meditation on Vāsudeva’s feet, he was freed from all residual impurities and became established in the highest consciousness. Remembering the knowledge sung by the Blessed Lord on the battlefield, Arjuna overcame the darkness of time, fate, and delusion. Freed from sorrow and all doubts of duality, he attained the state of Brahman, merged beyond the modes of nature, and became free from bodily identification and rebirth. Meanwhile, Yudhiṣṭhira, his mind composed, heard of the Lord’s departure and the end of the Yadu dynasty. He resolved to follow the path to the higher realms. Pṛthā, too, upon hearing from Arjuna of the destruction of the Yadus and Kṛṣṇa’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 thorn is removed by another and both are discarded. Like an actor who assumes and then relinquishes various forms, He who had removed the earth’s burden relinquished that body as well. When Mukunda, the Blessed Lord, left this earth 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 the city, the kingdom, his household, and even within himself—manifesting as greed, falsehood, and violence. Recognizing these signs, he prepared to depart. He saw his own grandson, equal in virtues and discipline, and 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, Yudhiṣṭhira drank the sacrificial fire. There, having relinquished all attachments—relatives, followers, and possessions—he became free from possessiveness and ego, severing all bonds. He offered his speech into his mind, his mind into his breath, and the other senses into darkness; his outgoing breath into death, and thus entered the state of dissolution. The five elements he offered 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, he 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 he would not 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. Having fulfilled all duties virtuously and knowing the ultimate goal of the self, they fixed their minds on the lotus feet of the Lord of Vaikuṇṭha. With unwavering devotion and purified intellect, they fixed their minds solely on that supreme abode of Nārāyaṇa. They attained that exceedingly rare state, which cannot be reached by those attached to sense objects and impurity, but is gained only by the pure soul. Vidura too, renouncing his body at Prabhāsa, absorbed his mind in Kṛṣṇa and, united in consciousness with his forefathers, went to his own abode. At that time, Draupadī, perceiving the detachment of her husbands, fixed her mind exclusively on Lord Vāsudeva, the Blessed One, and attained that state. Whoever faithfully hears this sacred and auspicious account of the departure of Pāṇḍu’s beloved sons attains devotion to Hari and perfection. After these events, Parīkṣit, the great devotee, ruled the earth according to the instructions of the foremost brāhmaṇas, just as expert guides direct a noble child at birth.