Alas, thought the man, my aged parents, my wife, my young sons and daughters—all of them, helpless and miserable without me—how will they survive, stricken by suffering? Thus, with his heart seized by attachment to home, his mind clouded and unsatisfied, he constantly brooded over his family. When death finally came to such a soul, he entered into deep darkness. Sūta continued: Now hear of Parīkṣit, who, though burned by the weapon of Aśvatthāmā, was not killed in his mother’s womb, for he was protected by the wondrous grace of Lord Kṛṣṇa. Later, when his life was threatened by Takṣaka, born from the wrath of a brāhmaṇa, Parīkṣit was not bewildered by the pain of death, for his mind was steadfastly offered to the Lord. Having abandoned all attachments and understanding the true state of the unconquered, Parīkṣit, disciple of Vyāsa, surrendered his body in the sacred waters of the Gaṅgā. For those who delight in the nectar of the Lord’s glorious stories, there is no confusion even at the time of death, for their hearts remember His lotus feet. As long as Parīkṣit, the great devotee and son of Abhimanyu, ruled the earth, Kali, though present everywhere, could not prevail. But on the very day and at the very moment when the Lord departed from this world, unrighteous Kali entered, following in His wake. Yet the emperor did not hate Kali. Like a bee seeking the essence from flowers, he accepted only the good, and auspicious results came swiftly to him—unlike for others. What could Kali, bold among the weak but fearful of the strong, do to the wise and fearless? Among the careless, he prowls like a wolf among men. Thus, O sages, I have described to you this sacred story of Parīkṣit, filled with the tales of Vāsudeva, just as you asked. Indeed, whatever stories there are of the Lord—His virtues and wondrous actions—should be cherished by all who desire true life. The sages replied: O gentle Sūta, may you live long with everlasting pure fame, for you proclaim to mortals the nectar of Kṛṣṇa’s deeds. In this uncertain world, where minds are clouded, you make us drink the honey-wine of Govinda’s lotus feet. We would not exchange even a moment of association with the Lord’s devotees for heaven or liberation—what then of any other blessings? Who could ever be satisfied with hearing the nectar of stories about the Supreme Refuge? Even the greatest yogis, born from Brahmā, have not reached the end of His qualities. Therefore, O Sūta, foremost among the devoted, please narrate to us the noble and pure deeds of Hari, for those eager to listen. Parīkṣit, the great devotee, whose unwavering intelligence was fixed on liberation, attained the feet of the Lord—He whose banner bears the eagle—through the knowledge spoken by Vyāsa’s son. So, narrate to us that supremely auspicious, wondrous, and yoga-centered story, whose meaning is open, filled with the endless deeds of the Lord, which delighted Parīkṣit and all devotees. Sūta humbly replied: Today, though born in a lower lineage, we have become blessed by following the elders. Association with the words of the greatest souls swiftly removes the impurity of birth and mental distress. How much more so for one who praises the Supreme, the ultimate refuge of the greatest souls? The infinite Lord, whose power is boundless, is called limitless because of His supreme qualities. Indeed, what has already been told is enough to show the unequalled and unsurpassed qualities of the Lord, whose foot-dust is sought even by those who have renounced everything, though He Himself does not seek such worship. Moreover, the water offered for worship by Brahmā, produced from the nails of His feet, purifies the world; who in this world, desiring the Lord’s feet, would not be purified by Mukunda? There, those who are devoted and wise suddenly abandon all attachment to the body and its connections, and proceed to the highest state of the swan-like sages, where nonviolence, tranquility, and one’s own duty prevail. You have questioned me, O noble ones, so I shall explain as far as I have realized. Just as birds fly in the sky according to their strength, so too do the wise attain the path of Viṣṇu according to their understanding. Once, while wandering in the forest for hunting, Parīkṣit, with his bow raised, pursued a deer. He became exhausted, greatly hungry and thirsty. Entering a hermitage in search of water, he saw a sage seated in tranquility, eyes closed. The sage, with senses, breath, mind, and intellect restrained, had attained a state beyond the three realms, becoming one with Brahman, unchanging. Covered with matted hair and a deerskin, his throat parched with thirst, the king begged from the sage in that condition. But he could not obtain even grass, earth, or water, nor any kind words. Feeling disregarded, he became angry. Never before had he been so afflicted by hunger and thirst; envy and anger arose towards the brāhmaṇa. In his anger, Parīkṣit placed a lifeless snake upon the sage’s shoulder, and, leaving the hermitage, returned to his city. He wondered, “Is this one, with all his senses withdrawn and eyes closed, truly absorbed in meditation, or is it merely a pretense? What can one say of those of the warrior class?” The sage’s son, a boy of extraordinary brilliance, was playing among other children. When he heard that his father had been wronged by the king, he spoke in that very place: “Alas, what injustice by the rulers, like gluttons who eat the offerings! The offense committed by the servants against the master is like that of gatekeepers—or even dogs—against their lord. Though a kṣatriya by birth, he has been appointed by the brāhmaṇas as the guardian of the house; how then should such a doorkeeper be entitled to partake of the household’s provisions? With Kṛṣṇa, the Lord, departed—the guide for those who stray from the path—I now punish those who have broken the bridge of righteousness; behold my power!” Having spoken thus, his eyes reddened with anger, the young sage among his friends, after purifying himself at the Kauśikī river, released a thunderbolt of words: “Thus, having transgressed the boundary, Takṣaka, urged by me, will bite this destroyer of the dynasty on the seventh day.” Then, the boy approached the hermitage. Seeing his father with a serpent’s body around his neck, he was overcome with sorrow and cried out loudly.