Vidura, having fulfilled his purpose, left his mortal body at Prabhāsa. With his mind fully absorbed in Kṛṣṇa, he united his consciousness with his forefathers and departed for his own eternal abode. At that same time, Draupadī, perceiving the deep detachment of her husbands, turned her mind solely toward Lord Vāsudeva, the Blessed One. Through her unwavering devotion, she too attained that supreme state. It is said that whoever faithfully listens to this account of the departure of Pāṇḍu’s beloved sons—an account that purifies and brings auspiciousness—will themselves gain devotion to Hari and attain perfection. Sūta continued: Then Parīkṣit, the great devotee, began to rule the earth. He governed according to the guidance of the foremost brāhmaṇas, just as wise guardians direct a noble child from birth. He took Irāvatī, the daughter of Uttara, as his wife, and from her he begot four sons, beginning with Janamejaya. Parīkṣit performed three Aśvamedha sacrifices on the banks of the sacred Gaṅgā, giving abundant gifts to all. With Śāradvata as his priest, the ceremonies were so grand that even the gods themselves became visible. Once, during his conquest of the directions, the heroic king encountered Kali, who, disguised as a king but actually a śūdra, was cruelly striking a cow and a bull with his foot. Śaunaka, eager for the tale, asked: “Why did Parīkṣit 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 devoted to tasting the nectar of the Lord’s lotus feet, what use are other fruitless talks that 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 pursuits.” Sūta replied: When Parīkṣit, residing in the land of the Kurus, heard the unwelcome news that Kali had entered his kingdom, the valiant archer seized his bow. He mounted his well-adorned chariot, yoked with dark horses and bearing the lion banner. Surrounded by his army—chariots, horses, elephants, and infantry—he set out to conquer all directions. He conquered regions such as Bhadrāśva, Ketumāla, Bhārata, the northern Kurus, Kimpuruṣa, and others, collecting tribute from them. He subdued cities and forests, rivers with pure waters, men resembling the gods, and women of pleasing appearance. Dhanañjaya beheld wondrous sights never seen before—splendid dwellings and women who resembled celestial nymphs. Everywhere he went, he heard the glories of his noble ancestors being sung—praises that revealed the greatness of Krishna. He also heard stories of how he himself was saved from the fiery weapon of Ashvatthāman, of the affection between the Vṛṣṇis and the sons of Pāṇḍu, and of their devotion to Keśava. Greatly pleased, his eyes wide with joy, Parīkṣit generously rewarded the people with 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 valor, following them, praising and bowing to them. By such service, he brought the world to bow before Viṣṇu. While Parīkṣit was thus engaged, following the noble conduct of his forebears day by day, a marvelous event unfolded nearby. Listen as I recount it to you. Dharma, moving on one foot, came upon the Earth. Her shadow was diminished, and she wept like a cow separated from her calf. Dharma approached her and asked, “O gentle one, is all well with you? Why do you appear so pale and withered? I sense deep sorrow—are you grieving for a distant relative, O mother? Are you mourning a missing limb, fearing destruction by the wicked, or for the gods whose shares of sacrifice have been stolen, or for the people, since Indra no longer sends rain? Are you lamenting for women and children left unprotected, suffering at the hands of cruel men? Or for the sacred speech of the goddess, corrupted among the brāhmaṇas, or for noble families degraded by unrighteous kings? Is it for the kṣatriya clans afflicted by Kali, or for the kingdoms they have ruined? Or for people wandering in search of food, drink, shelter, and baths, their livelihoods disrupted? Or, O mother, do you recall the deeds of Hari, who incarnated to relieve your heavy burden but has now departed, delaying your deliverance? Tell me, O Earth, what is the root of your distress? Has your good fortune, worshipped by the gods, been taken away by Time, the strongest of the strong?” Earth replied: “O Dharma, you know all that you ask, for you uphold the four legs that bring happiness to the world. Truth, purity, compassion, forgiveness, renunciation, contentment, straightforwardness, tranquility, self-control, austerity, equanimity, forbearance, withdrawal, and learning; knowledge, detachment, lordliness, heroism, brilliance, strength, memory, independence, skill, beauty, courage, gentleness; boldness, humility, good conduct, endurance, vigor, strength, prosperity, depth, steadiness, faith, fame, honor, and absence of pride—all these and other great qualities ever reside in you. Those who desire greatness seek them, for they never diminish in you. Therefore, I grieve for the world, bereft of the presence of Śrīnivāsa, the worthy vessel of all virtues, and afflicted by the sinful gaze of Kali. I lament for myself, for you—the best among rulers—for the gods, ancestors, sages, all the virtuous, and for all the social orders and stages of life. Even Brahmā and the others, longing for a mere sidelong glance, performed severe austerities, surrendering to the Lord; yet that very goddess Śrī, abandoning her own abode in the lotus forest, lovingly worships the dust of His feet, adorned with auspicious marks. I was adorned by the glorious footprints of the Lord—marked with the lotus, thunderbolt, goad, banner, and other symbols. Yet, despite attaining such splendor, I did not find favor with Him; in the end, He cast me aside, and the worlds, too, rejected me with disdain. He, by His own power, removed the unbearable burden of the earth—the hundred armies of demonic kings—established you, though diminished, in your own strength, and delighted the Yadu dynasty by bearing their charming forms. Who could endure separation from the Supreme Person, whose loving glances, radiant smiles, and sweet words steal even the steadfastness of honey-bees? The very dust of His feet, marked with auspicious signs, brings a thrill to my being.” Thus, the Earth poured out her sorrow, mourning the loss of the Lord’s presence and the coming of Kali, while Dharma listened with compassion.