Dharma, the divine personification of righteousness, spoke in deep sorrow, lamenting the state of the world now bereft of Śrīnivāsa, the Supreme Lord, who was the very embodiment of all virtues. Without Him, Dharma grieved, the earth had fallen under the affliction of Kali, whose sinful influence now spread unchecked. His heart was heavy not only for himself, but for Parīkṣit—the noblest of kings—for the gods in heaven, the revered ancestors, the sages, all the virtuous souls, and for every order and stage of human life. The absence of the Lord had cast a shadow of sorrow across all existence. Dharma recalled how even Brahmā and the other great deities, yearning for the Lord’s mere sidelong glance, had performed severe austerities and surrendered themselves to Him. Yet, the goddess Śrī herself, abandoning her own splendid home amidst the lotus forests, lovingly worshipped the dust of His feet, which were adorned with auspicious marks. He remembered, too, how the earth had once been sanctified by the Lord’s glorious footprints—bearing the lotus, thunderbolt, goad, banner, and other sacred symbols. Despite being adorned with such splendor, Dharma lamented that he had not found lasting favor with the Lord; in the end, the Lord had departed, and the world, too, had turned away. It was He, the Supreme Lord, who by His own power had lifted the unbearable burden of the earth by destroying the vast armies of demonic kings. He had restored Parīkṣit—though his reign was shaken and diminished—to his own strength, and had delighted the Yadu dynasty by taking on their charming forms. Dharma wondered, who could possibly endure separation from that Supreme Person, whose loving glances, radiant smiles, and sweet words could steal even the steadfastness of honey-bees? The very dust of His feet, marked with auspicious signs, had brought a thrill to Dharma’s own being. As the Earth and Dharma thus poured out their hearts in conversation, at that very moment, King Parīkṣit, the royal sage, arrived at the eastern bank of the Sarasvatī river. With great reverence, Parīkṣit offered his 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, infinite in power, beyond all qualities, unchanging, and not of this world. Salutations to Time, the source of time, the witness of all its divisions, the universe itself, the overseer and creator of all. “To the Self behind all elements, senses, life-breath, mind, intellect, and inner disposition—who is experienced inwardly, yet concealed by identification with the three qualities—my repeated 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. “Again and again, I bow to the root of all valid knowledge, the sage, the source of the scriptures, the path of action and renunciation, the Veda itself. 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 their functions, the seer of the qualities, and the inner consciousness. Salutations to Hṛṣīkeśa, the sage, the silent ascetic, who sports in the unmanifest and perfects all that is manifest. 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 and the cause of all. “O Lord, though unattached to the qualities, You preside over the birth, existence, and dissolution of this world, upholding the power of time, awakening 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. “If a single offense is committed by one’s own subject, it 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 described how, thus praised by the serpent’s wives, the Lord released the unconscious Kaliya, whose head had been crushed, from beneath His feet. Regaining his senses and breath, Kaliya slowly looked upon Hari; struggling to breathe, weak and distressed, he spoke to Krishna with folded hands. Kaliya confessed, “We are wicked by birth, enveloped 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. Among them, O Lord, we serpents are born with fierce anger; how can we abandon your māyā, which is hard to give up, when we ourselves are deluded by it? For you are the cause of all this, omniscient, Lord of the universe; whether you grant mercy or punishment, do as you deem fit for us.” Hearing these humble words, the Lord, appearing as a human, spoke: “You must not remain here, O serpent; go to the ocean without delay. Leave this river to be enjoyed by cows, men, and your own kin, children, and wives. Whoever among mortals remembers this instruction I have given you, and recites it at both twilights, will not suffer fear from you. Whoever bathes here, where I played, and offers water to the gods and others, then fasts and worships me, remembering me, will be freed from all sins. Having left the island of Ramanaka and taken refuge in this lake, you were not devoured by Suparna out of fear, for you bear my foot-mark.” The sage continued: Thus addressed by Krishna, whose deeds are wondrous, Kaliya was worshipped joyfully and respectfully by his wives. They honored Krishna with divine garments, garlands, precious jewels, and ornaments, with fragrant ointments, and a great garland of lotuses. Having worshipped the Lord of the universe and pleased Garuda-bannered Krishna, they circumambulated Him and offered respectful salutations. Then, with all his wives, friends, and sons, Kaliya departed for the island in the ocean; at that moment, by the grace of the Lord who had played in human form, the Yamuna became free of poison. Elsewhere, a worshipper honored the Lord with incense, perfumes, and other offerings, using the sacred twelve-syllable mantra. Meanwhile, Sūta described how King Parīkṣit, on his journey, witnessed a distressing scene: a cow and a bull, both being mercilessly beaten as if they were helpless, by a low-born man wielding a club—a disgrace to the royal order. The bull, white as a lotus stalk, trembled as if urinating in fear, shaking, standing on only one leg, weakened by the blows. The cow, who once gave warm milk, was now in great distress, severely struck by the feet of the Śūdra, separated from her calf, her face streaked with tears, emaciated, and longing for even a blade of grass.