When Mukunda, the Blessed Lord, withdrew His auspicious form from the earth and departed, the very moment He left, Kali—the spirit of unrighteousness—began to exert his influence over those whose minds were not awakened to the truth. King Yudhiṣṭhira, wise and discerning, saw the signs of Kali’s advance everywhere: in the city, throughout his kingdom, within his own household, and even in himself. Greed, falsehood, and violence began to manifest, and recognizing these omens, Yudhiṣṭhira resolved to prepare for his own departure from worldly life. Knowing the time had come, Yudhiṣṭhira installed his grandson, a youth equal to him in virtue and discipline, as lord of the earth at Hastināpura, by the sacred banks of the Gaṅgā. In Mathurā, he established Vajra as the chief of the Śūrasenas. Then, having performed the proper rites, the king symbolically drank the sacrificial fire, signifying the renunciation of worldly duties. There, Yudhiṣṭhira relinquished all attachments—letting go of relatives, followers, and possessions. He freed himself from every trace of possessiveness and ego, severing all ties. 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, then into unity, and finally, he offered everything into the Self, and the Self into the imperishable Brahman. Clad in bark garments, fasting, his matted hair bound and head uncovered, he appeared to the world as if dull, mad, or possessed—yet, in truth, he was revealing his essential nature. Indifferent to the world, he departed, not hearing even as one deaf, and took the northern path, as the great souls had done before him, meditating deeply on the Supreme Brahman in his heart, from which there is no return. All his brothers, firmly resolved, followed him, for the people of the earth had been afflicted by the touch of Kali, friend of unrighteousness. Having fulfilled all their 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 that supreme abode of Nārāyaṇa. Thus, 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, renounced his body at Prabhāsa. Absorbing his mind in Kṛṣṇa, he became united in consciousness with his forefathers and returned to his own eternal abode. At that time, Draupadī, perceiving the detachment of her husbands, fixed her mind exclusively on Lord Vāsudeva, the Blessed One, and attained that same exalted state. Whoever faithfully hears this sacred account of the departure of Pāṇḍu’s beloved sons—most purifying and auspicious—will attain devotion to Hari and perfection. Sūta continued: Then Parīkṣit, the great devotee, ruled the earth according to the instructions of the foremost brāhmaṇas, just as expert guides direct a noble child from birth. He married Irāvatī, the daughter of Uttara, and from her he begot four sons, the eldest being Janamejaya. Parīkṣit performed three Aśvamedha sacrifices on the banks of the Gaṅgā, giving abundant gifts, with Śāradvata as his priest—so splendid were these rites that even the gods became visible. Once, during his conquest of the directions, the heroic king encountered a remarkable event: Kali, disguised as a king but actually a śūdra, was striking a cow and a bull with his foot. Parīkṣit seized him. 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 it relates to the stories of Kṛṣṇa. For those devoted to tasting 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 desire immortality, the Lord, as Death, has been invited 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 activities.” Sūta replied: 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, and the regions of Kimpuruṣa and others, collecting tribute from them. He conquered cities and forests, rivers with pure waters, men resembling the gods, and women of pleasing appearance. Parīkṣit 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 Kṛṣṇa. He also heard of how he himself had been 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 with these people, his eyes wide with joy, the noble-hearted Parīkṣit gave them abundant wealth, garments, and necklaces. The king, ever devoted to the lotus feet of Viṣṇu, served the Pāṇḍavas with affection—acting as their charioteer, companion, attendant, friend, envoy, sharing their seat of valor, following them, praising and bowing to them, and thus brought the world to bow before Viṣṇu. While Parīkṣit was thus engaged, following the conduct of his forebears day by day, a marvelous event occurred not far away. Listen as I recount it to you. Dharma, moving on only one foot, beheld the Earth, her shadow greatly diminished, weeping like a cow separated from her calf. Moved by her sorrow, Dharma questioned her: “O gentle one, is all well with you? Why do you appear so pale and withered? I perceive some inner sorrow in you—are you grieving for a distant relative, O mother? Are you lamenting your missing limb, or for yourself about to be consumed by the wicked? Are you mourning for the gods whose shares of sacrifice have been stolen, or for the people, since Indra no longer sends rain? Do you grieve for women and children left unprotected on earth, suffering at the hands of cruel men? Or for the sacred speech of the goddess, corrupted in the brahmin class, or for the noble families degraded by unrighteous kings? Is it for the kṣatriya clans afflicted by Kali, or for the kingdoms they have ruined? Or for the people who wander here and there, seeking food, drink, shelter, and baths, their livelihoods disrupted?” Thus, Dharma inquired about the suffering of the Earth, seeking to understand the cause of her sorrow in the age of Kali.