Kunti, weighed down by sorrow, remembered her cousin Krishna—the illustrious refuge and beloved of His devotees—and Rama, the lotus-eyed one. She reflected on how these two, so dear, would not forget their maternal aunt’s children. In the midst of her co-wives, feeling as vulnerable as a doe among wolves, Kunti imagined how Krishna would come to console her with kind words and also comfort her children, now left fatherless. In her distress, Kunti called out: “Krishna, Krishna! Great yogi, soul of the universe, creator of the world—protect me, O Govinda! I have taken refuge in You, and together with my children, I am sinking.” She saw no other shelter for anyone but Krishna’s lotus feet, for He alone delivers people from the terrifying ocean of birth and death. With reverence, she saluted Krishna—the pure, the Supreme Spirit, the Lord of yoga and its very embodiment—and declared her refuge in Him. Śuka, the sage, narrated: Thus, remembering her relatives and Krishna, the Lord of the universe, your great-grandmother, O King, began to pray, her heart afflicted with grief. Seeing her sorrow, the noble Vidura—impartial in happiness and distress—and the renowned Akrura sought to comfort Kunti. They spoke to her of the purpose and significance of her sons’ births, offering solace. When the time came for Akrura to depart, he approached Dhṛtarāṣṭra, the ruler who favored his own sons, and spoke in the presence of friends and relatives, prompted by goodwill. Akrura addressed him: “O descendant of Vicitravīrya, you who increase the fame of the Kurus, now that your brother Pāṇḍu has departed, you have assumed the throne. By ruling the earth righteously, pleasing the people with virtue, and remaining impartial to your own, you will attain prosperity and fame. If, however, you act otherwise, you will be condemned and fall into darkness. Remain impartial toward both the Pāṇḍavas and your own sons. “In this world, O King, no one has perpetual association with anyone—not even with one’s own body, let alone wife, sons, and others. Each being is born alone and dies alone; alone one enjoys the fruits of good deeds, and alone also the results of evil. Wealth acquired unrighteously is seized by others of little intelligence, just as leeches draw water under the pretext of friendship. He who, lacking wisdom, supports others unrighteously, finds that his life, wealth, sons, and others abandon him unfulfilled. Having taken on sin himself, abandoned by those for whom he was not wise in wealth, such a person, failing in his purpose, enters darkness, turning away from his own duty. Therefore, O King, see this world as a dream, illusion, and fantasy. Know yourself by yourself, and be equal-minded and peaceful, O master.” Dhṛtarāṣṭra replied, “O lord of charity, just as you speak these auspicious words, so am I never satisfied by them, as a mortal is never satisfied upon tasting nectar. Still, gentle one, though words may be sweet, they do not remain steady in the heart, which is restless with the poison of attachment to one’s children—just as lightning does not linger in the sky. Who indeed can overturn the will of the Lord, O man? He who has descended in the Yadu dynasty to remove the earth’s burden. He who, by His own inscrutable power, creates this world, divides the qualities, and then enters into it—unto Him, the Supreme Lord, whose play is beyond comprehension, who moves within the wheel of worldly existence, I offer my respects.” Śuka continued: Understanding the king’s heart, that noble Yadava, Akrura, having been permitted by his friends, returned to the city of the Yadus. There, he reported to Rama and Krishna all that Dhṛtarāṣṭra had done regarding the Pāṇḍavas, for which he himself had been sent. Thus ends the forty-ninth chapter of the first half of the tenth book in the Śrīmad Bhāgavata Mahāpurāṇa, the scripture for the paramahaṃsas. Śuka resumed his narration: O best of the Bharatas, Asti and Prāpti, the wives of Kaṃsa, grieving at the death of their husband, went to their father’s house. They revealed everything—the cause of their widowhood—to their father, Jarāsandha, the king of Magadha, who was himself distressed. Hearing this grievous news, Jarāsandha, filled with sorrow and anger, resolved to destroy the Yadava clan. He gathered a mighty force—twenty-three akṣauhiṇīs of armies—and surrounded Mathurā, the capital of the Yadus, on all sides. Seeing this vast army, swelling like the ocean, and his own city besieged, with his people filled with fear, Krishna considered the situation deeply. Lord Hari, in his human form, reflected on the purpose of his descent, weighing the time, place, and circumstances. He resolved: “I will destroy this force, which has gathered as a burden upon the earth, assembled by the king of Magadha from all the subjugated rulers. The armies, with their soldiers, horses, chariots, and elephants, are to be destroyed, but the king of Magadha is not to be slain, for he will again assemble a force. This is the purpose of my descent: to relieve the earth of its burden, to protect the virtuous, and to destroy others. I have assumed another body for the protection of dharma, and, when adharma arises, for its cessation.” As Govinda thus meditated, two radiant chariots—shining like the sun—suddenly appeared from the sky, complete with drivers and all equipment. Divine, ancient weapons also manifested by chance. Seeing these, Hṛṣīkeśa spoke to Saṅkarṣaṇa: “Behold, O noble one, the calamity that has befallen the Yadus, O Lord of those who have descended to earth. Here is your chariot, along with your beloved weapons. Indeed, for this very purpose have we been born, O Lord, bringer of happiness to the virtuous—to remove the burden of the earth, known as the twenty-three armies.” Having thus consulted, the two sons of Dasharha, resolute and armed for battle since ancient times, set out with their weapons, accompanied by a small force. Hari, with Daruka as his charioteer, blew his conch shell as he departed. At that sound, terror and trembling arose in the hearts of the enemy soldiers.