In a moment of profound humility, Kaliya, the serpent, gradually regained his senses and breath, turning his weary gaze upon Hari, the Supreme Lord Krishna. Weak and distressed, he clasped his hands together and spoke, acknowledging his own nature. "O Lord," he admitted, "we are wicked by birth, consumed by darkness and long-standing anger. This nature is difficult to abandon, for it is the false grasping inherent in all beings." Kaliya continued, recognizing the divine origin of the universe, crafted by the Creator. "You, O Lord, are the source of all that exists—the distribution of qualities, the various natures, powers, energies, forms, seeds, and inclinations all arise from you. Among these, we serpents are born with fierce anger. How can we escape your māyā, which is so hard to relinquish, especially when we ourselves are ensnared by it?" With a sense of resignation, he acknowledged Krishna's omniscience, the Lord of the universe, surrendering to whatever fate Krishna deemed fit for him. Hearing these heartfelt words, Krishna, in his human form, addressed Kaliya with compassion. "You must not remain here any longer, O serpent. Depart to the ocean without delay. Leave this river for the enjoyment of cows, men, and your own kin—your children and wives." Krishna further instructed, "Whoever among mortals remembers my words and recites them at both twilights will not suffer fear from you. Those who come to bathe in this place, where I have played, and offer water to the gods, fast, and worship me with remembrance, will be freed from all sins." He reminded Kaliya of his past, how he had taken refuge in the lake, protected from Suparna, the eagle, by the very foot-mark of Krishna. Thus, Kaliya, filled with gratitude, was joyfully worshipped by his wives, who adorned him with divine garments, garlands, precious jewels, and fragrant ointments. They offered Krishna a great garland of lotuses, circumambulating him and bowing respectfully. With all his family—wives, friends, and sons—Kaliya departed for the ocean's island, and at that moment, the Yamuna River, once poisoned by his presence, became pure through the grace of the Lord. Meanwhile, the king, riding in his golden chariot, witnessed a distressing scene. He saw a cow and a bull being mercilessly beaten, a low-born man wielding a club, a disgrace to royalty. The bull, white as a lotus stalk, trembled in fear, reduced to standing on one leg, while the cow, once generous with warm milk, now appeared emaciated and tearful, longing for her calf and grass. With a thunderous voice, the king questioned the oppressor, "Who are you, that under my protection, you unjustly harm the weak? Though you may wear the guise of a king, your actions are those of an actor, not a true ruler." He expressed his indignation, declaring that such a cowardly attack on the innocent deserved punishment, especially now that Krishna had departed with Arjuna, the bearer of the Gāṇḍīva bow. He addressed the bull, "Are you a deity in the form of a bull, suffering under this torment? Never before did grief afflict the living beings of this land while the Kaurava kings held sway, except through you." Turning to the cow, he reassured her, "Do not grieve, mother; let your fear of the low-born vanish. I am here to punish the wicked." The king lamented the plight of the innocent, declaring that a ruler who allows the good and the bad to suffer alike loses his fame and fortune. He affirmed that the supreme duty of kings is to protect the afflicted and punish their tormentors, and he vowed to eliminate this wicked enemy of all living beings. As he questioned the bull, seeking the truth behind its disfigurement, he proclaimed, "Those who inflict harm on the innocent only ensure the welfare of the virtuous when the wicked are subdued. I shall seize the arm of anyone who, despite being innocent, commits offenses without restraint." He recognized the highest duty of kings to uphold dharma, to govern according to the scriptures, and to remain steadfast even in adversity. Dharma, personified as the bull, spoke, affirming the king's words, acknowledging that his speech was fitting for those who protect the afflicted. "We do not possess the seeds of suffering," Dharma stated, "but are bewildered by divisions in speech that cloud our understanding." The king listened intently as Dharma spoke of the various philosophies that sought to explain existence, acknowledging the confusion that surrounded them. "Austerity, purity, compassion, and truth are the legs of virtue, yet three have been broken by pride, attachment, and intoxication. Now, Dharma, you must uphold the remaining leg of truth, for Kali, established by falsehood, seeks to seize it." The king concluded, "This earth, bearing a great burden, has been entrusted by the Lord and is adorned with the footprints of the glorious one." Thus, the narrative wove together the themes of humility, justice, and the eternal struggle between dharma and adharma, echoing through the ages in the hearts of those who seek truth and righteousness.