Dharma, taking the form of a bull, addressed King Parīkṣit with a voice full of gravity and wisdom. “O son of Pāṇḍu,” he said, “your words are truly befitting one who offers safety to the afflicted—indeed, the Lord Kṛṣṇa Himself became your messenger and leader because of such virtues. Yet, O best among men, we do not carry the seeds of suffering within ourselves. We are perplexed by the conflicting divisions in speech and cannot discern the true cause behind our distress. “People, clothed in differing opinions, debate endlessly: some say the self is its own cause, others claim fate is responsible, some point to action, and others to nature as the ultimate master. Still others, lost in speculation, declare the cause to be inconceivable and indescribable. O royal sage, you must judge this according to your own discernment.” As Dharma spoke thus, Sūta said, the emperor Parīkṣit, deeply focused and troubled in mind, replied with heartfelt concern. “You speak of dharma, O knower of dharma, and you yourself are dharma, standing before me as a bull. Wherever adharma is committed, those who witness and conceal it share in its consequences. Or perhaps, indeed, the workings of the Lord’s divine illusion are beyond the grasp of mortal mind and speech—of this, I am certain. “In the age of virtue, austerity, purity, compassion, and truth were the four legs upon which dharma stood. But now, three have been broken by pride, attachment, and intoxication—only truth remains. O Dharma, you must protect this last leg, for Kali, established by falsehood, seeks to destroy even this. “This earth, bearing the burden of the world, was entrusted to us by the Lord, who graced her with His divine footprints. Now, abandoned and sorrowful, she weeps with tear-filled eyes, lamenting, ‘Unworthy kings, disguised as rulers, and even shudras will exploit me.’” Having thus comforted both Dharma and the earth, the great charioteer Parīkṣit took up his sharp sword, determined to punish the root of adharma. Approaching the perpetrator with intent to slay, Parīkṣit saw the culprit abandon all royal insignia and fall at his feet, trembling in fear. The compassionate king, ever a protector of the distressed, did not strike down the one who had sought his refuge, but instead spoke gently, a slight smile on his lips. “For you, who have joined your hands in supplication, there is no fear from the illustrious descendants of Arjuna. But you must not remain in my kingdom, O companion of adharma. “As long as you dwell among men, adharma flourishes: greed, falsehood, theft, impiety, sin, deceit, quarrel, and hypocrisy. You must depart, and abide only where dharma and truth are honored, especially in those regions where the wise, through sacrifice, worship the Lord of sacrifice. Where Hari, the blessed Lord, is worshipped in the form of sacrifice, He bestows auspiciousness upon His devotees—pervading all as the very soul of existence, moving and unmoving, like air within and without.” Hearing these words, Sūta continued, Kali trembled with fear before Parīkṣit, who stood sword in hand as the righteous chastiser. Kali pleaded, “O sovereign, wherever I may go by your command, I see you ever present, armed and vigilant. Therefore, O upholder of righteousness, please designate for me a place where I may dwell, strictly following your order.” Thus requested, Parīkṣit assigned Kali to dwell in places where unrighteousness prevailed: in gambling, in drinking, in association with women outside of dharma, and in slaughter—these four abodes of adharma. Yet Kali begged again, and the king granted him gold as a fifth place. From gold arose falsehood, intoxication, desire, passion, and enmity. Thus, these five—gambling, drinking, illicit relations, slaughter, and gold—became the haunts of Kali, and he abided by the king’s decree. Therefore, Sūta explained, anyone who desires their own well-being should avoid these places, especially those devoted to righteousness—kings, leaders, and teachers. Parīkṣit then restored to Dharma his three lost legs—penance, purity, and compassion—comforted him, and brought prosperity back to the earth. He took up the royal throne, as entrusted by his grandfather, when the elder king retired to the forest. Now, that royal sage, radiant with the glory of the Kaurava line, rules in Hastināpura, illustrious and sovereign. Such is the power of King Parīkṣit, son of Abhimanyu, that while he protects the earth, all the sages are able to perform the great sacrifice in peace. Like the sun in his celestial chariot, having cast off all misfortune, Parīkṣit enjoys happiness, honored even among the gods. Sūta then shared guidance for the ages: If a brāhmaṇa is in distress, he may maintain himself by trade or selling goods, or, if desperate, by the sword—but never by a livelihood that is base or dog-like. A kṣatriya, too, in adversity, may take up the work of a vaiśya or even hunting, or act as a brāhmaṇa, but never by base means. A vaiśya may work as a śūdra, and a śūdra may do menial crafts, but once freed from hardship, none should seek a blameworthy occupation. Each day, one should worship the gods, sages, ancestors, and all beings—who are but forms of the Lord—through study of the Vedas, offerings, gifts, and food as available. With wealth obtained honestly and without oppression, one should support dependents and perform sacrifices, always by just means. One should not become attached to family, nor be careless even as a householder. The wise see all worldly things as already lost, even before they depart. The meeting of sons, wives, and relatives is like travelers gathering briefly on a journey; they part from the body as dreams depart from sleep. Thus, reflecting in this way, the liberated soul dwells in the household like a guest—unattached, free from possessiveness and ego. With devotion, performing prescribed duties for the Lord alone, one may remain at home, go to the forest, or, if there are offspring, renounce all and wander as a mendicant. But one whose mind is bound by home, tormented by desires for children and wealth, infatuated with women, and deluded by thoughts of ‘I’ and ‘mine,’ is truly bound and pitiable. Thus unfolded the wisdom and deeds of King Parīkṣit, the upholder of dharma in the age of Kali.