As King Parīkṣit sat in contemplation, he heard the news that the sage’s son had pronounced his impending death, decreed to arrive through Takṣaka, the serpent. Rather than despair, Parīkṣit welcomed the fate, for he saw that Takṣaka would soon grant him liberation from worldly attachments that had long bound his heart. Having weighed the worthlessness of both this world and the next, Parīkṣit renounced them entirely. He resolved to dedicate himself to the service of Kṛṣṇa’s feet and took up a vow to fast until death, settling himself beside the immortal river. This river, its waters mingled with the dust from Kṛṣṇa’s feet, was even more purifying than the Ganges; it sanctified all worlds and their rulers. Who, facing death, would not wish to serve her? Thus, the son of Pāṇḍu, his mind unwaveringly fixed on Mukunda’s feet, undertook the vow of fasting unto death on the bank of the river Viṣṇu-pada. With the resolve of a sage and freed from all attachments, he sat steadfast. Soon, great and noble sages arrived at that sacred place, accompanied by their disciples. Their presence itself purified the world. Though many came under the pretext of visiting holy sites, it was the virtuous themselves who sanctified those places. Among them were Atri, Vasiṣṭha, Cyavana, Śaradvān, Ariṣṭanemi, Bhṛgu, and Aṅgirā; Parāśara, the son of Gādhi, Rāma, Utathya, Indrapramada, Edhmavāha, Medhātithi, Devala, Ārṣṭiṣeṇa, Bhāradvāja, Gautama, Pippalāda, Maitreya, Aurva, Kavaṣa, Kumbhayoni, Dvaipāyana, and the venerable Nārada. Others distinguished among deva-sages, brahma-sages, and royal sages also gathered, including Aruṇa and his companions. The king honored these eminent descendants of sages, bowing his head in reverence. Once they were comfortably seated, Parīkṣit approached them with joined hands, his mind clear and intent upon his purpose. He spoke, “Ah, among rulers, we are indeed most fortunate that the greatest among you have shown us your gracious nature. The dynasty of kings, due to neglecting the feet of brāhmaṇas, has been cast far away—alas, such blameworthy deeds.” He continued, “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, for attachment quickly brings fear. O brāhmaṇas, may you remain with me, and may the goddess Gaṅgā, with my mind fixed upon the Lord. Whether by the curse of a brāhmaṇa or by the snake Takṣaka, let it happen; meanwhile, sing the glories of Viṣṇu.” “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 brāhmaṇas everywhere.” Resolute in his decision, the king sat facing north on the eastern bank, upon a bed of kuśa grass, steadfast, having entrusted the care of his wife and son to the daughter of the ocean. As he sat in fasting, the hosts of gods in heaven praised him, showering flowers upon the earth with joy, and drums resounded again and again. The great sages who had assembled praised and approved his actions, saying, “His conduct is for the welfare of the people and is adorned by the virtues of the Lord, praised by the highest.” They declared, “It is not remarkable, O foremost of royal sages, among those devoted to Kṛṣṇa, that such ones, who once occupied thrones adorned with royal crowns, immediately renounce them, 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 these words, Parīkṣit, accompanied by Madhucyuda, his teacher, addressed the sages, greeting them and expressing eagerness to hear the deeds of Viṣṇu. He said, “All have gathered here from every direction, just 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, trusting in your guidance; for those who are dying, what is the pure duty? Let those who are engaged deliberate upon it.” At that moment, the son of Vyāsa, the venerable Śuka, arrived by chance, wandering the earth without expectation. His signs were unrecognizable, content in his own gain, surrounded by children, and wearing the garb of a mocker. Śuka 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. Viṣṇurāta (Parīkṣit) offered worship with bowed head to this honored guest. As the women and children withdrew, Śuka was seated with honor upon the great seat. There, surrounded by assemblies of Brahmarṣis, Rājarṣis, and Devarṣis, the illustrious sage shone brilliantly, like the moon 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, Parīkṣit offered respectful words and inquired gently, “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 and 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. Certainly, O brāhmaṇa, the presence of the Lord is not perceived in the homes of householders, not even at the time of milking the cows.” Sūta then spoke: Thus addressed and questioned by the king in gentle words, the wise and learned son of Bādarāyaṇa replied. He explained, “The qualities of Śrī are independence and similar virtues; happiness is the end of both pleasure and pain. Pain arises from desire for pleasure. The wise one knows both bondage and liberation. The fool identifies with the body and such; my path is called the Veda. Distraction of mind is a wrong path; heaven is the rise of sattva-guṇa. Hell is darkness and pride; friend, teacher, and self are one. Home is the body; humanity is wealth in qualities, and the truly wealthy is so called.” Thus, in the presence of the sages and the king, the stage was set for the unfolding of the sacred dialogue, wherein the highest truths and duties for one facing death would be revealed.