In those days, wherever King Parīkṣit traveled, he would hear songs extolling the glories of his noble ancestors. These hymns not only praised their virtues, but also revealed the immeasurable greatness of Krishna, who had graced their lineage. Parīkṣit listened as tales were told of how he himself, still an infant in his mother’s womb, was miraculously saved from the fiery weapon unleashed by Ashvatthāman. He heard of the deep affection that bound the Vṛṣṇis and the sons of Pāṇḍu, and of their unwavering devotion to Keśava, the Supreme Lord. Delighted by these accounts, his heart overflowing with joy, Parīkṣit honored the bards and the people with generous gifts—fine garments, precious necklaces, and abundant wealth. The king, ever devoted to the lotus feet of Viṣṇu, served the Pāṇḍavas with deep affection. He acted as their charioteer, companion, attendant, friend, and envoy. He shared in their valor, followed their lead, praised them, bowed before them, and in doing so, inspired the world itself to bow before Viṣṇu. As Parīkṣit thus engaged himself in righteous conduct, following the noble path of his forebears day after day, a remarkable event unfolded not far away. Listen now as this marvel is recounted. Dharma, the very embodiment of righteousness, was seen moving on just one foot. He encountered the Earth, whose radiance was greatly diminished. She wept like a cow bereft of her calf. Seeing her plight, Dharma questioned her gently, “O gentle one, is all well with you? Why do you appear so pale and withered? I sense a deep sorrow within you—are you grieving for a distant relative, O mother?” He continued, “Are you mourning the loss of your own limb, or do you fear being consumed by the wicked? Is your distress for the gods, whose shares of sacrifice have been stolen, or for the people, since Indra no longer sends rain? Do you lament for women and children left unprotected, suffering at the hands of cruel men? Or is it for the sacred speech of the goddess, corrupted among the brahmins, or for noble families degraded by unrighteous kings? Perhaps you grieve for the kṣatriya clans afflicted by Kali, or for the kingdoms they have ruined. Or do you mourn the wandering people whose livelihoods have been disrupted, who wander in search of food, drink, shelter, and baths?” Dharma pressed further, “O mother, do you remember the deeds performed by Hari, who incarnated to lift 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, once worshipped by the gods, been taken away by Time, the strongest of all?” Earth replied, “O Dharma, you know all that you ask, for you support 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, O blessed one. Those who desire greatness seek them, for they never diminish in you. “Yet now, 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 every social order and stage of life. “Even Brahmā and the other gods, longing for a mere sidelong glance, performed severe austerities and surrendered to the Lord. Yet that very goddess Śrī, abandoning her own abode in the lotus forest, lovingly worships the dust of His feet, which are adorned with auspicious marks. I was once adorned by the glorious footprints of the Lord—marked with the lotus, thunderbolt, goad, banner, and other symbols. Yet, 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. He 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 even the steadfastness 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. Then, in reverence, the following praises were offered: “Obeisance to You, O Lord, the Supreme Person, the great soul, the abode of all beings, the source of all, the transcendent, the Supreme Self. Salutations to You, the treasure-house of knowledge and wisdom, the Absolute, of infinite power, beyond qualities, unchanging, and not of this world. Salutations to Time, the source of time, the witness of the divisions of time, the universe itself, the overseer of all, the creator and cause of the universe. To the Self of elements, senses, life-breath, mind, intellect, and inner disposition, who is experienced inwardly yet concealed by identification with the three qualities—salutations. Salutations to the infinite, the subtle, the immutable, the all-knowing, who accommodates all doctrines, and is the power behind both the spoken and the unspoken. Salutations to the root of all valid knowledge, the sage, the source of the scriptures, the path of action and renunciation, the Veda itself—again and again, salutations. Salutations to Kṛṣṇa, to Rāma, to the son of Vasudeva, to Pradyumna, to Aniruddha, and to the Lord of the Sātvatas. Salutations to the lamp of the qualities, to the one who veils Himself with the qualities, who is perceived through the functions of the qualities, the seer of the qualities, and the inner consciousness. To Him who sports in the unmanifest, who perfects all that is manifest, Hṛṣīkeśa, salutations to You, the sage, the silent ascetic. Salutations to You, who knows the course of the higher and lower, who is the overseer of all, both the unmanifest and the manifest, the seer of all this and its cause. “You, O Lord, though unattached to the qualities, preside over the birth, existence, and dissolution of this world. You uphold the power of time, awaken the various natures in beings, and by Your unfailing glance, engage in wondrous play. These very bodies of yours in the three worlds—some peaceful, some restless, some born of delusion—are dear to you, O descendant of Indra; the peaceful ones are especially beloved, for now, out of desire to uphold dharma, you strive to protect and preserve the virtuous. “A single offense committed by one’s own subject should be endured by the ruler; you ought to forgive, with a tranquil mind, one who acted in ignorance toward you. Grant us your mercy, O Lord, for the serpent is abandoning his life; let the husband, who is the very life of us women—wretched and deserving of compassion—be restored to us. Command what your maidservants must do, so we may carry out your order; for one who performs it with faith is freed from all fear.” Śuka then said: Thus, praised by the serpent’s wives, the Lord released the unconscious serpent, whose head had been broken, from the crushing of His feet.