As King Parīkṣit dutifully followed the noble path of his ancestors, performing his royal responsibilities day after day, something extraordinary took place not far from where he was. Listen as I recount this marvelous event. Dharma, the very embodiment of righteousness, was moving about, but now balancing only on one foot. As he journeyed, he came upon the Earth herself, her radiance diminished, her shadow faded. She wept bitterly, like a mother cow separated from her beloved calf. Moved by her sorrow, Dharma approached and gently questioned her. “O gentle one,” he asked, “is all well with you? Why do you appear so pale and withered? I sense a deep sorrow within you. Are you grieving for someone dear who is now far from you, O Mother?” He continued, “Are you lamenting the loss of a part of yourself, fearing you will be consumed by the wicked? Do you mourn for the gods, whose shares of sacrifice are stolen, or for the people, since Indra no longer sends rain from the heavens?” “Is your grief for the women and children left unprotected, suffering at the hands of cruel men? Or for the sacred speech of the goddess, now corrupted among the brahmins? Or perhaps for the noble families, degraded by unrighteous kings?” “Does your sorrow arise from the kṣatriya clans afflicted by the age of Kali, or for the kingdoms they have laid waste? Or perhaps for the people who wander in search of food, water, shelter, and a place to bathe, their livelihoods disrupted and uncertain?” “Or, O Mother, do you recall the deeds of Hari, who once incarnated to relieve your heavy burden, but who has now departed, delaying your deliverance?” “Please, Earth, tell me the root of your distress, the cause by which you have been afflicted. Has your good fortune—so revered by the gods—been snatched away by Time, the mightiest of the mighty?” The Earth replied, “O Dharma, you know all that you have asked me, 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 many other great qualities, O blessed one, forever reside in you. Those who seek greatness pursue them, for they never diminish in you.” “Therefore, I now grieve for the world, bereft of the presence of Śrīnivāsa, the Lord who is the vessel of all virtues. With Him gone, the sinful influence of Kali afflicts us all. I lament for myself, for you, the noblest of rulers, for the gods, ancestors, sages, all the virtuous, and for all the social orders and stages of life.” “Even Brahmā and the other gods, yearning for a mere sidelong glance from the Lord, undertook severe austerities, surrendering themselves to Him. Yet the goddess Śrī, abandoning her own lotus abode, lovingly worships the dust of His feet, marked with auspicious signs.” “I was once adorned by the glorious footprints of the Lord—marked with the lotus, thunderbolt, goad, banner, and other symbols. Yet, even after attaining such splendor, I did not win His favor; in the end, He cast me aside, and the worlds, too, rejected me with disdain.” “He, by His own power, removed the unbearable burden from me—the hundred armies of demonic kings—restored you, Dharma, to your own strength, though your position was unstable and diminished, 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 the honey-bees? The very dust of His feet, marked with auspicious signs, sends a thrill through my being.” As Earth and Dharma thus spoke, at that very moment, King Parīkṣit, the royal sage, arrived at the banks of the eastern Sarasvatī river. In reverence, he offered salutations: “Obeisance to You, O Lord, Supreme Person, 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, not of this world. Salutations to Time, the source of time, the witness of its divisions, the universe itself, the overseer and cause of all creation.” “To the Self of elements, senses, life-breath, mind, intellect, and inner disposition, who is experienced within yet concealed by identification with the three qualities—salutations. Salutations to the infinite, the subtle, the immutable, the all-knowing, who accommodates all doctrines, the power behind both the spoken and the unspoken. Salutations to the root of all valid knowledge, the sage, the source of 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 them, who is perceived through their functions, the seer of 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 oversees all, who is both the unmanifest and the manifest, the seer of all this and its cause. O Lord, though unattached to the qualities, You preside over the birth, existence, and dissolution of this world, upholding the power of time, awakening 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 Indra’s lineage; 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 crushed, from the pressure of His feet. Regaining his senses and breath, Kaliya slowly gazed upon Hari. Struggling to breathe, weak and distressed, he spoke to Krishna with folded hands. Kaliya said, “We are wicked by birth, shrouded in darkness and long-standing anger; O Lord, this nature is hard to abandon, for it is the false grasping found among all beings. By you, O Creator, this universe has been fashioned, with the distribution of qualities; its various natures, powers, energies, forms, seeds, and inclinations arise from you. And among them, O Lord, we serpents are born with fierce anger; how can we abandon your māyā, which is so hard to give up, when we ourselves are deluded by it?