Kuntī, overwhelmed by sorrow and seeking solace, turned her heart toward the Lord and prayed, “O Krishna, deliverer from the terrifying ocean of birth and death, I see no other refuge for people than Your lotus feet.” With deep reverence, she offered salutations to Krishna, the pure and supreme spirit, the Lord of yoga and its very embodiment, saying, “I have sought shelter in You.” Thus, as she remembered both her departed relatives and Krishna, the Lord of the universe, Kuntī—your great-grandmother, O King—poured out her prayers, her heart heavy with grief. At that moment, the noble Vidura, ever impartial in happiness and distress, and the renowned Akrura, approached Kuntī. With gentle words and sound reasoning, they sought to comfort her, speaking of the circumstances surrounding the birth of her sons. As the king prepared to depart, he approached the ruler—who favored his own sons—and, surrounded by friends and relatives, addressed him with goodwill. Akrura spoke, “O descendant of Vicitravīrya, who increases the fame of the Kurus, now that your brother Pāṇḍu has left this world, you have assumed the throne. If you rule the earth righteously, pleasing your people with virtue and remaining impartial to both your own sons and the Pāṇḍavas, you will attain prosperity and lasting fame. But if you act otherwise, you will be condemned and fall into darkness. Therefore, remain impartial toward all.” Akrura continued, “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 suffers the results of evil. Wealth acquired unrighteously is seized by others of little understanding, just as leeches suck water under the pretense of friendship. One who, lacking wisdom, supports others unrighteously finds that his life, wealth, and loved ones abandon him, and his purpose remains unfulfilled. Having taken on sin himself, abandoned by those he wrongly supported, he turns away from his own duty and enters darkness. Therefore, O King, see this world as a dream, an illusion, a fantasy. Know yourself by yourself and remain equal-minded and peaceful.” Dhṛtarāṣṭra replied, “O lord of charity, your words are auspicious and pleasing, and I can never have enough of them, just as a mortal is never satisfied even upon obtaining nectar. Yet, gentle one, though your words are sweet, they do not remain steady in my heart, which is restless with the poison of attachment to my children, just as lightning does not linger in the sky. Who can overturn the will of the Lord, O man? He who has descended in the Yadu dynasty for the removal of the earth’s burden—He who, by His inscrutable power, creates this world, divides the qualities, and then enters into it. To Him, the Supreme Lord whose play is beyond comprehension, who moves within the wheel of worldly existence, I offer my respects.” Śuka then said: Understanding the king’s intentions, that Yādava—Akrura—having been permitted by his friends, returned to the city of the Yadus. He reported to Balarāma and Krishna all that Dhṛtarāṣṭra had done regarding the Pāṇḍavas, fulfilling the purpose for which he had been sent. Thus concludes the forty-ninth chapter of the first half of the tenth book in the Śrīmad Bhāgavata Mahāpurāṇa, the scripture for the paramahaṃsas. Śuka continued: O best of the Bharatas, Asti and Prāpti, the wives of Kaṃsa, filled with grief at their husband’s death, went to the house of their father. There, they revealed to their father, Jarāsandha—the king of Magadha and himself distressed—the cause of their widowhood. Hearing this painful news, Jarāsandha was seized with grief and anger. He resolved to destroy the entire Yadava clan and, gathering a vast army of twenty-three akṣauhiṇīs, he besieged Mathurā, the capital of the Yadus, on all sides. Seeing this immense army, which swelled like the ocean, and his own city surrounded, Krishna observed the fear that gripped his people. Reflecting on the purpose of his descent to earth, considering the time, place, and circumstances, the Lord Hari thought, “I will destroy this force, which has gathered as a burden upon the earth, brought together by Jarāsandha from all the subjugated rulers. These armies, counted by akṣauhiṇīs and filled with soldiers, horses, chariots, and elephants, must be destroyed. Yet, the king of Magadha is not to be slain, for he will again assemble another force. This is the very purpose of my descent: to relieve the earth of its burden, to protect the virtuous, and to destroy the wicked. I have also assumed another body for the protection of dharma, and, when adharma arises, for its cessation.” As Govinda thus reflected, two radiant chariots, shining like the sun and complete with drivers and all necessary equipment, suddenly appeared from the sky. 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 descended to earth. Here is your chariot and 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, now assembled as these twenty-three armies.” Having consulted together, the two sons of Dasharha—Krishna and Balarāma—steadfast and armed for battle since ancient times, set out, equipped with their weapons and accompanied by a small force. Hari, with Daruka as his charioteer, blew his conch as he departed, and terror and trembling arose in the hearts of the enemy soldiers. Seeing them approach, Jarāsandha, king of Magadha, said, “O Krishna, lowest of men, I do not wish to fight you, a mere boy, out of shame; nor with you, who hide behind others, O dullard—go away, destroyer of kin, I will not fight you. But you, Rama, if you have faith, fight and show your courage. Either abandon your body, cut down by my arrows and ascend to heaven, or kill me.” The Blessed Lord replied, “Truly, heroes do not boast; they simply display their valor. We do not heed the words of one who is distressed and facing death, O King.