At that time, Draupadī, seeing the profound detachment in her husbands, the sons of Pāṇḍu, turned her heart wholly toward Lord Vāsudeva, the Blessed One. Fixing her mind exclusively on Him, she attained the supreme state. It is said that whoever faithfully hears the account of the departure of Pāṇḍu’s beloved sons—a tale most pure and auspicious—will themselves gain devotion to Hari and reach perfection. Sūta continued: After the passing of the great Pāṇḍavas, their grandson Parīkṣit, a devoted soul, ruled the earth. He governed according to the wise counsel of the foremost brāhmaṇas, much like skilled guides nurturing a noble child from birth. Parīkṣit married Irāvatī, the daughter of Uttara, and from their union he had four sons, the first being Janamejaya. To uphold dharma, Parīkṣit performed three grand Aśvamedha sacrifices on the banks of the sacred Gaṅgā, lavishly distributing gifts to all. With Śāradvata as his chief priest, the ceremonies were so glorious that even the gods themselves became visible. Once, during his campaign to subdue all directions, Parīkṣit, the heroic king, encountered a strange sight: Kali, disguised as a king but actually a śūdra, was cruelly striking a cow and a bull with his foot. Parīkṣit seized him. At this point, Śaunaka, eager for tales connected to Kṛṣṇa, asked Sūta: “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? Please tell us, if it is related 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 our precious time?” He continued, “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; thus, the Lord was summoned by the great sages. Let us drink the nectar of Hari’s pastimes in this world of men! In these times, people are slow, dull-minded, and short-lived; their nights vanish in sleep, their days in vain pursuits.” Sūta resumed: 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 splendid chariot, adorned with a lion banner and yoked with dark horses. Surrounded by his formidable army—chariots, horses, elephants, and infantry—he 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 of pure waters, men who seemed like gods, and women of pleasing form. Dhanañjaya beheld wondrous sights never seen before: magnificent dwellings and women resembling celestial nymphs. Everywhere he went, he heard the glories of his noble ancestors 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. Overjoyed, his eyes wide with delight, Parīkṣit generously bestowed wealth, garments, and necklaces upon those who honored his lineage. This king, devoted to the lotus feet of Viṣṇu, served the Pāṇḍavas with affection. He acted as their charioteer, companion, attendant, friend, envoy, shared their seat of valor, followed them, praised and bowed to them, thereby inspiring the world to bow before Viṣṇu. While Parīkṣit was thus engaged, following the righteous conduct of his forebears day by day, a marvelous event unfolded nearby. Listen as I recount it. Dharma, moving on only one foot, came upon the Earth, her shadow diminished, weeping like a cow separated from her calf. He questioned her, “O gentle one, is all well with you? Why do you appear so pale and withered? I sense some inner sorrow—are you grieving for a distant relative, O mother?” He asked further, “Are you mourning for your missing limb, for yourself about to be consumed 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 grieving for women and children left unprotected, suffering under cruel men? Or for the sacred speech of the goddess, corrupted among the brāhmins, 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 the people wandering in search of food, drink, shelter, and baths, their livelihoods disrupted? Or, O mother, do you remember the deeds of Hari, who incarnated to relieve your heavy burden, but who 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?” The 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, and 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 seek greatness pursue 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 the 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. Having attained 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 the demonic kings—established you, though your position was unstable and 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 away the steadfastness even of honey-bees—when the very dust of His feet, marked with auspicious signs, brings a thrill to my being?” As Earth and Dharma thus conversed, at that very moment, King Parīkṣit, the royal sage, arrived at the eastern bank of the Sarasvatī river.