Arjuna, reflecting on the extraordinary course of his life, spoke with deep reverence and wonder. He remembered how, by the grace of the Supreme Lord, the mighty weapons of Bhīṣma, Karṇa, Droṇa, Śalya, Saindhava, and other great warriors—renowned for their power and infallibility—had never been able to harm him. Just as the weapons of the demons could not touch Nṛhari, the servant of Hari, so too had he been protected, shielded by a power greater than his own. He recalled the fierce battle at Prabhāsa, where he had been surrounded by foes intent on evil. His horses were exhausted, and he stood vulnerable on the earth, yet the enemy charioteers, bewildered by the Lord’s divine influence, could not strike him. The Lord, whose lotus feet are worshipped by the virtuous for liberation, had guarded him even in the direst moments. 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, spoken with affection, would touch his heart and, upon remembrance, soften even his heart of stone. He reflected on the intimacy he had shared with the Lord—sleeping, sitting, walking, conversing, and eating together. Sometimes, in the closeness of friendship, he had been deceived by the Lord’s human-like behavior, thinking Him his equal, as one friend with another, or as a father with his son. Yet, out of boundless affection, the Lord had tolerated all of Arjuna’s offenses, which were born of ignorance. Now, bereft of that Supreme Person, his dearest friend and beloved companion, Arjuna felt empty-hearted. Though he was surrounded by memories of the Lord’s great deeds, he felt helpless on the journey of life, like a woman defeated by thieves and left without protection. He pondered the transformation that had come over him: his bow, his arrows, his chariot, his noble horses, and even himself—once the cause of kings bowing in respect—had all, in a moment, become powerless and useless, as if offerings cast into ashes by the magic of illusion. Arjuna then spoke of the fate of the Yadus: “O King, by your will, the Yadus, who were not true friends even to their own city, fell under the influence of the curse of the Brāhmaṇas. Deluded, they began to strike each other with their fists. Intoxicated by drinking Vāruṇī liquor, their minds agitated, they lost all recognition of one another and fought amongst themselves, leaving only four or five survivors.” He recognized the mysterious ways of the Lord, who arranges that living beings both destroy and support one another. Just as in water, the larger aquatic creatures devour the smaller, so too among men do the strong overcome the weak. In this way, the Lord had removed the burden of the earth by causing the mighty Yadus to destroy each other, just as the powerful vanquish the less powerful. Arjuna found solace in remembering the words spoken by Govinda—words always suited to time, place, and circumstance, which soothed the heart’s distress and captivated the mind of anyone who remembered them. As Arjuna dwelled deeply on the lotus feet of Kṛṣṇa, his mind became peaceful and pure. Through devotion and constant meditation on Vāsudeva, all impurities left him, and he was established in the highest consciousness. He recalled the sacred knowledge sung by the Blessed Lord on the battlefield, and thus overcame the darkness of time, destiny, and delusion. Freed from sorrow, he attained the state of Brahman, all doubts of duality cut away, merged beyond the modes of nature, and transcended bodily identification and birth. Yudhiṣṭhira, hearing of the Lord’s departure and the end of the Yadu dynasty, composed his mind and resolved to follow the path to higher realms. Pṛthā, too, 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 Lord, who had removed the burden of the earth, left that body just as one removes a thorn with another and then discards both. Like an actor taking on and then abandoning various forms, He relinquished His earthly form after fulfilling His purpose. When Mukunda, the Blessed Lord, departed from this world 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 manifesting as greed, falsehood, and violence in his city, kingdom, household, and even within himself. Recognizing the signs, he prepared to depart. He saw that his own grandson, Parīkṣit, was equal in virtues and discipline, and so 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, performing the proper rites, Yudhiṣṭhira symbolically drank the sacrificial fire. There, Yudhiṣṭhira relinquished all attachments—relatives, followers, possessions—and became free from possessiveness and ego, severing all bonds. He offered his speech into his mind, his mind into his breath, his senses into darkness, and his outgoing breath into death, thus entering the state of dissolution. The five elements he offered into each other and then into unity, finally offering 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 renunciate form. Indifferent, he departed, not hearing like one deaf, and entered the northern path, as great souls had done before, meditating on the Supreme Brahman in his heart, from which he would not return. All his brothers, firmly resolved, followed him, for 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 focused solely on the supreme abode of Nārāyaṇa. They attained that exceedingly rare state, which is unreachable by those attached to sense objects and impurity, but is gained by the pure soul alone. Vidura, too, renounced his body at Prabhāsa, absorbed his mind in Kṛṣṇa, and, united in consciousness with his forefathers, went to his own abode. Draupadī, perceiving the detachment of her husbands, fixed her mind exclusively on Lord Vāsudeva, the Blessed One, and attained that ultimate state. Whoever faithfully hears this account of the departure of Pāṇḍu’s beloved sons—so purifying and auspicious—attains devotion to Hari and perfection. Sūta continued: After the passing of the Pāṇḍavas, 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. He married Irāvatī, the daughter of Uttara, and from her he begot four sons, the eldest being Janamejaya. Parīkṣit performed three great horse sacrifices (Aśvamedhas) on the banks of the Gaṅgā, giving abundant gifts, with Śāradvata as his priest—sacrifices so grand that even the gods became visible there. Once, during his conquest of all directions, the heroic king Parīkṣit encountered Kali, who, though disguised as a king, was in truth a śūdra, and found him striking a cow and a bull with his foot.