Hearing from Arjuna of the tragic destruction of the Yadus and the Lord’s departure from this world, Kunti—Pṛthā—was deeply moved. With unwavering devotion, she fixed her mind solely upon the transcendent Lord, and, thus absorbed, she withdrew from the endless cycle of birth and death. The Supreme Lord, who had removed the burden of the earth, though unborn and eternal, relinquished His earthly body as one uses a thorn to remove another and then discards both. Just as an actor dons various roles—be it the form of a fish or any other—and then leaves them behind, so did the Lord, having fulfilled His purpose, abandon His manifest form. When Mukunda, the Blessed Lord, departed from this earth along with His auspicious form, at that very moment, the age of Kali, the source of unrighteousness, began to exert its influence over those whose hearts were not awake to the truth. Yudhiṣṭhira, wise and discerning, noticed the signs of Kali’s advance—greed, falsehood, and violence—manifesting in his city, his kingdom, his household, and even within himself. Understanding the time had come, he prepared to depart from worldly life. He saw in his own grandson, Parīkṣit, virtues and discipline equal to his own. At Hastināpura, on the sacred banks of the Ganges, Yudhiṣṭhira installed Parīkṣit as the lord of the earth. In Mathurā, he installed Vajra as chief of the Śūrasenas. Then, performing the prescribed rites, the king symbolically drank the sacrificial fire, marking his renunciation. There, Yudhiṣṭhira let go of all attachments—family, followers, possessions—and cast off all sense of possessiveness and ego, severing every bond. He offered his speech into his mind, his mind into his breath, and the rest of his senses into darkness. His outgoing breath he offered into death, thus entering the state of dissolution. He merged the five elements into each other and then into unity, offering everything into the Self, and the Self into the imperishable Brahman. Clad in bark, fasting, his hair matted and unbound, his head uncovered, Yudhiṣṭhira appeared to the world as if dull, mad, or possessed, revealing his true, renounced form. Indifferent to all around him, he departed, not hearing like one deaf, and journeyed northward along the path of the great souls before him, his heart fixed on the Supreme Brahman, from which there is no return. All his brothers, firm in resolve, followed him, for the people of the earth had been afflicted by Kali, the friend of unrighteousness. Having fulfilled all their duties virtuously and understanding the ultimate goal of the self, the Pāṇḍavas fixed their minds on the lotus feet of the Lord of Vaikuṇṭha. With unwavering devotion and purified intellect, they meditated solely on that supreme abode of Nārāyaṇa. Thus, they attained that most rare state, which cannot be reached by those attached to sense objects and impurity, but is gained only by the pure soul. Vidura, too, renounced his body at Prabhāsa, his mind absorbed in Kṛṣṇa. United in consciousness with his forefathers, he 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 same state. Whoever faithfully hears this sacred account of the departure of Pāṇḍu’s beloved sons—most purifying and auspicious—attains devotion to Hari and perfection. Sūta continued: After these events, Parīkṣit, the great devotee, ruled the earth following the guidance of the foremost brāhmaṇas, just as expert guides nurture a noble child from birth. He married Irāvatī, daughter of Uttara, and from her begot four sons, beginning with Janamejaya. On the banks of the Gaṅgā, Parīkṣit performed three great horse sacrifices, giving abundant gifts, with Śāradvata as his priest. Such was the sanctity of these rites that even the gods became visible. Once, during his conquest of the directions, the heroic king seized Kali, who was disguised as a king but was actually a śūdra, caught striking a cow and a bull with his foot. At this, Śaunaka inquired: For what reason did the king capture Kali during his conquest? Who was this śūdra, bearing royal insignia, who struck the cow with his foot? O blessed one, please tell us, if this relates to the stories of Kṛṣṇa. For those who delight in the nectar of the Lord’s lotus feet, what use are other fruitless talks, which only waste the precious span of life? O gentle one, for mortal men of short life who yearn for immortality, the Lord, as Death, has been summoned here by the sage Śāmīka. No one dies as long as Death remains here; for this reason, the Lord was called by the great sages. Oh, let the nectar of Hari’s pastimes be drunk in the world of men! In this age, people are slow, of dull intelligence, and short-lived; their nights are wasted in sleep, and their days in vain pursuits. Sūta continued: When Parīkṣit, residing in the land of the Kurus, heard the unwelcome news that Kali had entered his kingdom, the valiant archer took up his bow. He mounted his well-adorned chariot, yoked with dark horses and bearing the lion banner, and, surrounded by his army of chariots, horses, elephants, and infantry, set out to conquer the directions. He subdued Bhadrāśva, Ketumāla, Bhārata, the northern Kurus, Kimpuruṣa, and other regions, collecting tribute from them. He conquered cities and forests, rivers with pure waters, men of godlike qualities, and women of pleasing appearance. Dhanañjaya beheld wondrous sights never seen before: splendid dwellings and women resembling celestial nymphs. Everywhere, he heard the glories of his noble ancestors being sung—praises that revealed the greatness of Krishna. He also heard accounts of how he himself was saved from the fiery weapon of Ashvatthāman, of the deep affection between the Vṛṣṇis and the sons of Pāṇḍu, and of their devotion to Keśava. Greatly pleased, his eyes wide with joy, the noble-hearted king bestowed abundant wealth, garments, and necklaces upon the people. Devoted to the lotus feet of Viṣṇu, he served the Pāṇḍavas with affection—acting as charioteer, companion, attendant, friend, envoy, sharing their seat of valor, following them, praising and bowing to them—and in this way, led the world to bow before Viṣṇu. While thus engaged, faithfully following the conduct of his forebears day by day, a marvelous event occurred not far away—listen as I recount it now. Dharma, moving on only one foot, saw the Earth, her shadow diminished, weeping like a cow separated from her calf. Dharma approached and gently asked, “O gentle one, is all well with you? Why do you appear so pale and withered? I sense some deep sorrow within you—are you grieving for a distant relative, O mother?