Śuka said, “Thus, with her permission and his heart pure and satisfied, Indra, after offering his respectful obeisance along with the Maruts, returned to heaven.” Having recounted this, Śuka concluded, “All that you have asked about—the auspicious birth of the Maruts—has now been told. What more would you have me narrate?” As Śuka’s tale ended, Sūta continued the story. The king, Parīkṣit, was deeply troubled. He reflected again and again on the grievous act that had occurred—not one he had committed by hand, but by a moment’s heedlessness. He thought, “Alas! I have acted basely, like one unworthy, toward a sinless and secretly powerful Brahmin. Surely, because of my disrespect toward the godly, a great calamity—difficult to overcome—will soon befall me. Let it come as it will, as atonement for my sin, so that I may never again act in such a way.” Resolute, he prayed, “Today, may the fire of the Brahmin’s anger, which has been kindled against me, consume my kingdom, my power, and my vast treasury. For I, the unfortunate one, should never again harbor such evil thoughts toward Brahmins, gods, or cows.” While the king thus reflected, he heard how the sage’s son had pronounced a curse of death, naming Takṣaka, the serpent, as the agent. Parīkṣit accepted this calmly—it seemed good to him, for he realized that soon Takṣaka would bring detachment to one so entangled in worldly attachments. He resolved then and there: renouncing both this world and the next, having already considered their worthlessness, he determined to dedicate himself to the feet of Kṛṣṇa. He sat down to fast unto death by the immortal river. This river, whose waters are sanctified by the dust of Kṛṣṇa’s feet—more purifying even than the Ganges—sanctifies all the worlds and their rulers. Who, facing death, would not seek her shelter? And so, the son of Pāṇḍu, his resolve firm, undertook the vow of fasting to death on the bank of that river, known as Viṣṇu-pada. He fixed his mind solely upon the feet of Mukunda, with the resolve of a true sage, freed from all attachments. As word spread, great and noble sages from all directions, accompanied by their disciples, arrived at that sacred place, purifying the world by their presence. Many came under the pretext of visiting holy sites, but in truth, the virtuous themselves sanctify the holy places. Among those who arrived were Atri, Vasiṣṭha, Cyavana, Śaradvān, Ariṣṭanemi, Bhṛgu, and Aṅgirā; Parāśara, the son of Gādhi, Rāma, Utathya, Indrapramada, and Edhmavāha; Medhātithi, Devala, Ārṣṭiṣeṇa, Bhāradvāja, Gautama, Pippalāda, Maitreya, Aurva, Kavaṣa, Kumbhayoni, Dvaipāyana (Vyāsa), and the venerable Nārada. There were others too, distinguished among deva-sages, brahma-sages, and royal sages, along with Aruṇa and his companions. Parīkṣit, honoring the assembled luminaries—descendants of sages—bowed his head in deep reverence. When all were comfortably seated, Parīkṣit approached them with joined palms, having first offered his respects. His mind was clear and intent on his purpose. He spoke: “Ah, among rulers, we are most fortunate, for the greatest among men have graced us with their presence. The dynasty of kings, due to neglecting the feet of the brāhmaṇas, has become tainted and cast far away—alas, such blameworthy deeds! For me, the Supreme Lord, seeing my mind repeatedly attached to household affairs, has brought about detachment, rooted in the words of the twice-born, where attachment quickly brings fear. “O brāhmaṇas, may you remain here with me, who has approached you in humility, and may the goddess Gaṅgā, with my mind fixed upon the Lord. Whether by the curse of a brāhmaṇa or the bite of Takṣaka, let what must happen, happen; meanwhile, let Viṣṇu’s glories be sung. “May there always be devotion and attachment to the infinite Lord, and to those who take refuge in Him. Wherever I am born among the noble, may there always be friendship, and I bow to the brāhmaṇas everywhere.” Thus resolved, the king sat facing north upon a bed of kuśa grass on the eastern bank, steadfast in his vow, having entrusted the care of his wife and son to the daughter of the ocean (the river goddess). As the king of men and gods fasted, the hosts of gods in heaven praised him. They scattered flowers upon the earth in joy, and celestial drums resounded again and again. The assembled sages, approving his actions, praised him: “His conduct is for the welfare of the people, adorned by the virtues of the Lord, praised by the highest.” And they said, “It is not remarkable, O foremost of royal sages, among those devoted to Kṛṣṇa, that they, who once occupied the throne adorned with the royal crown, immediately renounced it, desiring only the Lord’s presence. “All of us shall remain here today, until he abandons his body. Then this foremost devotee of the Lord will attain the supreme world, free from passion and sorrow.” Hearing the words of the sages, Parīkṣit, together with his teacher, Madhucyuda, and without fault, addressed the assembly, greeting those present and eager to hear the deeds of Viṣṇu. He said, “All have gathered here from every direction, as the Vedas take form in the three worlds. Here or elsewhere, there is no purpose except the supreme welfare and the nature of the self. Therefore, I ask you, O brāhmaṇas, what should be done? For those who are dying, what is the pure duty? Let those who are learned deliberate upon it.” At that very moment, the son of Vyāsa, the venerable Śuka, arrived there by chance, wandering the earth without expectation. His appearance was unassuming, his signs difficult to recognize, content in his own gain, surrounded by children, and dressed in the garb of a mocker. He was in his sixteenth year, with tender feet, hands, thighs, arms, shoulders, and cheeks. His limbs were graceful, his eyes large and elongated, his ears equal to his raised nostrils, his brows beautiful, his face radiant, and his neck well-formed like a conch. His collarbones were hidden, his chest broad and high, his navel deep and whorled, his belly marked with lines and softly rounded. Unclothed, his hair spread over his face, his arms long and hanging, resembling the best among gods. His complexion was dark, his youthful beauty ever fresh, his limbs marked by auspicious signs. With a charming smile, he captivated the minds of women. Even the sages, though knowing his true nature, rose from their seats to honor him, for his greatness was concealed. Parīkṣit, recognizing the honored guest, bowed his head and offered worship to Śuka. When the women and children, ignorant of the true nature of the assembly, had withdrawn, Śuka was seated with honor upon the great seat. There, surrounded by the great ones—assemblies of Brahmarṣis, Rājarṣis, and Devarṣis—the illustrious sage shone brilliantly, just as the moon shines surrounded by hosts of planets, stars, and constellations. The king, a devotee of the Lord, approached the sage, who sat peacefully, his wisdom undiminished. Bowing his head with folded hands, he spoke gently and respectfully: “O brāhmaṇa, today we, mere kṣatriyas, have become worthy of service, for by your mercy, you have come as a guest and made our land holy. By remembering you, the houses of men are instantly purified—what then can be said of seeing you, touching you, washing your feet, or offering you a seat and so on? By your presence, O great yogi, even the gravest sins of people are immediately destroyed, just as the demons are by Viṣṇu. “May the Lord, Kṛṣṇa—dear to the sons of Pāṇḍu—be pleased with me, for He has accepted the relatives of His paternal aunt out of affection for His own lineage. Otherwise, how could we mortals, especially those about to die, have your audience—you whose mind is fixed in the unmanifest, who are perfected and dwelling in the forest? “Therefore, I ask you, supreme teacher of yogis, about the highest perfection: what should a person do in every way when death is near? What should be heard, recited, done, remembered, or worshipped by people, O master? Or, tell me if there is anything else contrary to this.” Thus, in the presence of the sages and the divine Śuka, Parīkṣit humbly sought the highest wisdom as the final days of his life approached.