After completing his worship with incense, perfumes, and other sacred offerings, all while reciting the twelve-syllable mantra, the king turned his attention to the world around him. Sūta continued the tale: in that very place, King Parīkṣit beheld a most distressing sight. Before him stood a cow and a bull, both being cruelly beaten as if utterly helpless. The perpetrator was a low-born man, wielding a club—a disgrace to the royal line, masquerading in the semblance of a king. The bull, white as the stalk of a lotus, trembled violently, as if about to pass water in fear. He shook and could barely stand, balancing precariously on a single leg, his strength sapped by the blows of the Śūdra. The cow, who once gave nourishing, warm milk, was now in a pitiful state—her body emaciated, her face streaked with tears, separated from her calf, and pining for even a blade of grass. She too had been struck harshly by the feet of the cruel man. Riding his chariot adorned with golden fittings, Parīkṣit approached, his bow raised, his voice deep and thunderous like a storm cloud. He demanded, “Who are you, who dares to harm the innocent and weak in my kingdom, where all are under my protection? Though you dress as a king, your actions are but a performance, unworthy of the twice-born. You, who attack the innocent in secret, deserve death, now that Kṛṣṇa and Arjuna, the bearer of the Gāṇḍīva bow, have departed from this world.” His gaze then turned to the trembling bull: “Or are you, white as a lotus stalk and walking on but one leg, a deity in the form of a bull who brings us sorrow? Never, while the earth was protected by the mighty arms of the Kaurava kings, did grief afflict living beings—except through you.” Turning to the cow, he spoke gently, “O daughter of Surabhi, do not grieve. Let your fear of this low-born tormentor vanish. Do not weep, mother; may auspiciousness be yours. I am the punisher of the wicked.” He continued, “In whose kingdom all subjects—good and wicked alike—suffer, that ruler, intoxicated by power, loses his fame, lifespan, fortune, and righteous path. The supreme duty of kings is to protect the afflicted and punish their tormentors. Therefore, I shall kill this most wicked enemy of living beings. “O daughter of Surabhi, who has cut off your three legs, you four-footed one? May such beings never exist in the realm of kings devoted to Kṛṣṇa. Tell me, O bull—may auspiciousness be yours—who has disfigured the innocent and brought shame upon the sons of Pṛthā? One who harms the blameless and spreads fear deserves only punishment, for the welfare of the virtuous is ensured when the wicked are subdued. Even if he is a mortal adorned with bracelets, I shall seize the arm of one who, though innocent himself, commits offenses without restraint. “For a king, the highest duty is to uphold his own dharma, to govern others according to the scriptures, and never to stray from righteousness, even in adversity.” Dharma, who had taken the form of the bull, replied, “Your words, O son of Pāṇḍu, are fitting for those who offer safety to the afflicted, for whom Lord Kṛṣṇa served as messenger and leader due to their virtues. We do not possess the seeds of suffering, O best among men; we are bewildered by the many divisions in speech, and do not recognize the true cause. Some say the self is its own cause, others say it is fate, some attribute it to action, and others to nature. For some, the cause is inconceivable and indescribable. O royal sage, consider this with your own discernment.” Sūta continued: as Dharma spoke, the emperor, his mind focused and heart distressed, addressed him again, “You speak of dharma, O knower of dharma, and you are dharma itself, appearing as a bull. Wherever adharma is committed, the one who informs shares in its burden. Or perhaps, indeed, the workings of divine illusion are beyond the grasp of our minds and words—this much is certain. “Austerity, purity, compassion, and truth are the four legs established in the age of virtue. Three of these—purity, compassion, and austerity—have been broken by pride, attachment, and intoxication. Now, Dharma, your only remaining leg is truth, which you must uphold. But Kali, established by falsehood, seeks to seize even that. “And this earth, bearing a great burden, was entrusted to us by the Lord, and everywhere it is adorned by his glorious footprints. Yet now, this virtuous lady, abandoned and unfortunate, weeps with tearful eyes, lamenting, ‘Unworthy kings, disguised as rulers, and shudras will enjoy me.’” Having thus comforted Dharma and the earth, the great charioteer Parīkṣit drew his sharp sword, determined to punish the cause of adharma. As he approached, ready to strike, the low-born man cast aside his royal guise, fell at the king’s feet, and bowed his head, overcome with fear. Moved by compassion for the distressed, Parīkṣit did not slay the one who had sought his refuge, but instead spoke with a gentle smile. He said, “For you, who have surrendered with joined palms, there is no fear at all from the descendants of Guḍākeśa. Yet you may not remain in my kingdom, O companion of adharma. Wherever you dwell among men, all manner of unrighteousness arises: greed, falsehood, theft, impiety, sin, deceit, quarrel, and hypocrisy. You must not remain. Abide by dharma and truth, especially in the place where the wise worship the Lord of sacrifice through their sacred rites. “Where Hari, the blessed Lord, is worshipped in the form of sacrifice, he bestows auspiciousness upon his devotees. Like air, he pervades all—within and without—as the soul of all moving and unmoving beings.” Sūta narrated: Thus instructed by Parīkṣit, Kali trembled with fear and, seeing the king’s sword raised, spoke humbly, “O sovereign, wherever I may dwell by your command, I see you present there, ever vigilant with bow and arrows. Therefore, O best upholder of righteousness, please designate a place for me where I may reside, strictly following your order.” So, Parīkṣit assigned to Kali the following places: gambling, drinking, illicit relations with women, and slaughter—where the fourfold irreligion prevails. Yet again, Kali pleaded, and the compassionate king granted him gold as a dwelling. From gold, there arose falsehood, intoxication, desire, passion, and, as the fifth, enmity. Thus, the king upheld dharma, comforted the earth and Dharma, and set boundaries for the age of Kali, ensuring that righteousness would persist, even as the world changed.