As the serpent Kaliya lay battered and unconscious, his many wives approached Lord Krishna with deep anguish in their hearts. With folded hands, they implored, “O Lord, have mercy upon us. The serpent, our husband and very life, is abandoning his breath. We are wretched and deserve compassion; please restore him to us, for without him we are bereft.” They continued, “Command us, your maidservants, and we shall carry out your order. One who serves you with faith is freed from all fear—please instruct us in what we must do.” Hearing their heartfelt prayers, Śuka narrated, the Lord, praised by the serpent’s wives, released Kaliya from beneath the crushing hold of His feet. Kaliya, whose heads had been battered, slowly regained his senses and breath. Weak, distressed, and struggling to breathe, he gazed upon Hari, and folding his hands in supplication, spoke to Krishna. “O Lord,” Kaliya confessed, “we serpents are wicked by birth, enveloped in darkness and old anger. This nature is hard to abandon, for it is the false grasping that afflicts all beings. O Creator, you have fashioned this universe with its distribution of qualities. All natures, powers, energies, forms, seeds, and inclinations arise from you alone. Among these, 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?” He continued, “You are the cause of all, omniscient Lord of the universe. Whether you grant mercy or punishment, do as you see fit for us.” Śuka then described how Lord Krishna, acting in human form, replied, “You must not remain here, O serpent. Go at once to the ocean. Leave this river to be enjoyed by cows, men, and your own kin, your 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 have played, offers water to the gods and others, fasts, and worships me with remembrance, 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 the mark of my foot.” Krishna’s wondrous deeds inspired awe, and the wives of the serpent worshipped him joyfully and respectfully. They honored him with divine garments, garlands, precious jewels and ornaments, fragrant ointments, and a great garland of lotuses. Having thus worshipped the Lord of the universe—Krishna, who bears Garuda as his banner—they circumambulated him and offered their respectful salutations. Then, with all his wives, friends, and sons, Kaliya departed for the ocean’s island, as Krishna had instructed. By the Lord’s grace, the Yamuna river became free of poison, cleansed by the touch of the One who played in human form. Afterwards, the Lord was worshipped with incense, perfumes, and other offerings, while the twelve-syllable mantra was recited in his honor. Meanwhile, Sūta continued the narration. At another time, King Parikshit came upon a distressing scene: he saw a cow and a bull being beaten mercilessly, 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, was trembling in fear, shaking, standing on only one leg, and weakened by the blows of the Śūdra. The cow, who once gave warm milk, now appeared distressed and emaciated, her face streaked with tears, separated from her calf, and longing for grass, having been struck severely by the feet of the Śūdra. Mounted on his chariot adorned with golden fittings, King Parikshit, with a voice deep and thunderous, raised his bow and questioned them, “Who are you, who in this world, under my protection, unjustly harms the weak? Though you appear as a king, your actions are those of an actor, not of the twice-born. You, who attack the innocent in secret, deserve to be killed, now that Krishna has departed far away with the bearer of the Gandiva bow.” Turning to the bull, he asked, “Or are you, white as a lotus stalk, walking with diminished feet, a deity in the form of a bull, causing us distress? Never, while the earth was protected by the mighty arms of the Kaurava kings, did grief afflict living beings here—except through you.” He then addressed the cow, “O daughter of Surabhi, do not grieve here; let your fear of the low-born vanish. Do not weep, mother; may auspiciousness be yours. I am the punisher of the wicked. In whose kingdom all subjects suffer from the wicked and the good alike, that intoxicated ruler loses his fame, lifespan, fortune, and right path. The supreme duty of kings is to subdue the afflicted and punish their tormentors. Therefore, I shall kill this most wicked enemy of living beings.” He continued, “Who has cut off your three legs, O daughter of Surabhi, you four-footed one? May such as you never exist in the realm of kings who follow Krishna. Tell me, O bull, may auspiciousness be yours—who has caused the disfigurement of the innocent and defamed the sons of Pritha? One who inflicts harm on the innocent and spreads fear everywhere, for him only the welfare of the virtuous is ensured when the wicked are subdued. He who, though innocent among beings, commits offenses without restraint, I shall seize his arm directly, even if he is mortal and wears a bracelet. For the king, the highest duty is to uphold his own dharma, to govern others according to the scriptures, and not to deviate from the path even in adversity.” Dharma, in the form of the bull, replied, “Your speech, O son of Pandu, is fitting for those who grant safety to the afflicted—for whom Lord Krishna was messenger and leader, due to their virtues. We do not possess the seeds of suffering, O best among men; we are bewildered by the divisions in speech and do not recognize that person. Some, clothed in speculative opinions, declare the self to be the self; others say it is fate, some say it is action, and others claim nature as the master. For some, the conclusion is that it is inconceivable and indescribable; O royal sage, consider this according to your own discernment.” Sūta said, as Dharma spoke thus, the emperor addressed him with a focused mind and expressed his distress. The king said, “You speak of dharma, O knower of dharma, and you are dharma, taking the form of a bull. Wherever adharma is committed, the informer shares in its place. Or perhaps, indeed, the course of divine illusion is inaccessible to the mind and speech of beings—this is certain.