As the Earth and Dharma conversed, a deep sorrow filled their hearts. The Earth lamented not only for herself, but also for Dharma, the noblest among rulers, for the gods, ancestors, sages, and all virtuous souls, and for every social order and stage of life. Even Brahmā and other exalted beings, yearning for but a sidelong glance from the Lord, had surrendered themselves and performed severe austerities. Yet the goddess Śrī herself, abandoning her own abode in the lotus forests, lovingly worshipped the dust of His feet, adorned with auspicious marks. The Earth recalled how she had once been adorned by the glorious footprints of the Lord—marked with the lotus, thunderbolt, goad, banner, and other sacred symbols. Despite attaining such splendor, she found no lasting favor with Him; ultimately, He cast her aside, and the worlds, too, rejected her with disdain. The Lord, by His own power, had removed the unbearable burden of the earth—the hundred armies of demonic kings—and had established Dharma, though his position was unstable and diminished, in his own strength. He delighted the Yadu dynasty by bearing their charming forms. The Earth wondered: who could endure separation from the Supreme Person, whose loving glances, radiant smiles, and sweet words steal away even the steadfastness of honey-bees? The very dust of His feet, marked with auspicious signs, thrilled her being. Just as their conversation unfolded, King Parīkṣit, the royal sage, arrived at the eastern bank of the Sarasvatī river. With reverence, he offered obeisance to the Lord, the Supreme Person, the great soul, the abode of all beings, the source of all, the transcendent, the Supreme Self. He saluted the treasure-house of knowledge and wisdom, the Absolute, of infinite power, beyond qualities, unchanging, and not of this world. He honored Time, the source and witness of all its divisions, the universe itself, overseer and cause of all creation. He saluted the Self behind the elements, senses, life-breath, mind, intellect, and inner disposition, who is experienced inwardly, yet concealed by identification with the qualities. He offered 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, he saluted the root of all valid knowledge, the sage, the source of the scriptures, the path of action and renunciation, the Veda itself. He offered salutations to Kṛṣṇa, to Rāma, to the son of Vasudeva, to Pradyumna, to Aniruddha, and to the Lord of the Sātvatas. He saluted the lamp of the qualities, the one who veils Himself with the qualities, who is perceived through their functions, the seer of the qualities, and the inner consciousness. To Him who sports in the unmanifest and perfects all that is manifest, Hṛṣīkeśa, the sage and silent ascetic, he offered his respects. He saluted the one who knows the course of the higher and lower, the overseer of all, both the unmanifest and the manifest, the seer of all this and its cause. Though unattached to the qualities, the Lord presides over the birth, existence, and dissolution of the world, upholding the power of time, awakening the various natures in beings, and engaging in His wondrous play by His unfailing glance. The bodies that exist in the three worlds—some peaceful, some restless, some born of delusion—are dear to Him, especially the peaceful ones, for now, with a desire to uphold dharma, He strives to protect and preserve the virtuous. He reminded the ruler that a single offense committed by one's own subject should be endured; forgiveness, with a tranquil mind, should be granted to one who acted in ignorance. The wives of the serpent pleaded for mercy, asking that their husband, the very life of them women—wretched and deserving of compassion—be restored to them. They asked for his command, so that they might carry out his order, for one who performs it with faith is freed from all fear. Śuka said: Thus, praised by the wives of the serpent, the Lord released the unconscious Kaliya, whose head was broken, from the crushing of 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 said: "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." Śuka continued: Hearing these words, the Lord, acting 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 said: Thus addressed by Krishna, whose deeds are wondrous, Kaliya was worshipped joyfully and respectfully by his wives. They honored him with divine garments, garlands, precious jewels, ornaments, fragrant ointments, and a great garland of lotuses. Having worshipped the Lord of the universe, pleased Garuda-bannered Krishna, they circumambulated him and offered respectful salutations. With all his wives, friends, and sons, Kaliya departed for the ocean's island. At that moment, the Yamuna became free of poison, by the grace of the Lord who played in human form. He worshipped Krishna with incense, perfumes, and other offerings, using the twelve-syllable mantra. Sūta continued: There, the king saw a cow and a bull being beaten as if they were helpless. He saw a low-born man holding a club, a disgrace to royalty. The bull, white as a lotus stalk, trembled as if urinating in fear, shaking, standing on one leg, and weakened by blows from the Śūdra. The cow, who once gave warm milk, was now distressed, severely struck by the feet of the Śūdra, separated from her calf, with a tearful face, emaciated, and longing for grass. Mounted on his chariot, adorned with golden fittings, with a deep, thunderous voice and his bow raised, the king questioned them.