The noble Vidura, ever steady in both joy and sorrow, and the illustrious Akrura approached Queen Kunti, whose heart was heavy with grief. With gentle words and sound reasoning, they sought to comfort her, explaining the circumstances and destiny surrounding the birth of her sons, the Pāṇḍavas. As the time came for Vidura and Akrura to depart, Akrura drew near to King Dhṛtarāṣṭra, the ruler who, though a leader of men, was known for his partiality toward his own sons. Surrounded by friends and family, Akrura, prompted by sincere goodwill, addressed the king with words of wisdom. “O descendant of Vicitravīrya,” Akrura began, “you who enhance the glory of the Kuru dynasty, now that your brother Pāṇḍu has left this world, the throne rests upon your shoulders. Rule the earth with righteousness, treat your subjects with virtue, and remain impartial toward your own family and the Pāṇḍavas alike. In this way, you will gain prosperity and lasting fame. “But if you act otherwise, you will be condemned and fall into darkness. Therefore, show no bias between your sons and the sons of Pāṇḍu. Remember, O King, in this world, no one remains eternally with anyone—not even with one’s own body, let alone wife, sons, or others. Each soul is born alone, dies alone, and alone experiences the fruits of good and evil deeds. “Wealth gained unrighteously is soon seized by others of little understanding, just as leeches draw water under the guise of friendship. One who, lacking wisdom, supports others by unrighteous means finds that his life, wealth, and even his loved ones ultimately abandon him, leaving him unfulfilled. Such a person, burdened by the sins he has taken upon himself, is deserted by those he tried to help unwisely, and, having failed in his purpose, falls into darkness, turning away from his own duty. “Therefore, O King, see this world as a fleeting dream, an illusion, a fantasy. Know yourself by your own self. Remain equal-minded and at peace, O master.” Dhṛtarāṣṭra replied, “O lord of charity, your words are truly auspicious, and I never tire of hearing them—just as a mortal is never satisfied, even upon tasting nectar. Yet, gentle one, though these words are 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. “After all, who can overturn the will of the Lord, the One who has descended in the Yadu dynasty to relieve the earth of its burden? By his own inscrutable power, he creates this world, divides the qualities, and enters into it. Unto that Supreme Lord, whose play is beyond comprehension, who moves within the wheel of worldly existence, I offer my respects.” Śuka then narrated that, understanding the king’s intentions, Akrura, having been permitted by his friends, returned to the city of the Yadus. There, he reported to Balarāma and Kṛṣṇa all that Dhṛtarāṣṭra had done concerning the Pāṇḍavas, for which he himself had been sent. Thus ends the forty-ninth chapter of the first half of the tenth book of the Śrīmad Bhāgavata Mahāpurāṇa, the scripture for the paramahaṃsas. Śuka continued: O best of the Bharatas, Asti and Prāpti, the wives of the slain Kaṃsa, were overwhelmed with grief at their husband’s death. They returned to the house of their father, Jarāsandha, the king of Magadha, and tearfully revealed to him all that had led to their widowhood. Hearing this sorrowful news, Jarāsandha was consumed by grief and anger. Determined to destroy the Yadava clan, he gathered a great force—twenty-three mighty akṣauhiṇī divisions—and surrounded Mathurā, the capital of the Yadus, on all sides. Seeing this vast army, swelling like the ocean, besieging his beloved city, and his people filled with fear, Kṛṣṇa considered the situation deeply. The Lord Hari, in his human form, reflected upon the purpose of his descent, taking into account the time, place, and circumstances. He resolved within himself: “I shall destroy this force, which has assembled as a burden upon the earth, gathered by the king of Magadha from all the subjugated rulers. These armies, counted by akṣauhiṇīs, with their soldiers, horses, chariots, and elephants, must be destroyed. Yet, the king of Magadha should not be slain, for he will assemble another force, serving the purpose of my mission. This is why I have descended: to relieve the earth of its burden, to protect the virtuous, and to destroy those who threaten righteousness. At times, I assume another body for the protection of dharma and, when adharma arises, for its cessation.” As Govinda contemplated thus, two radiant chariots, shining like the sun and complete with drivers and all equipment, suddenly appeared from the heavens. Along with them, divine, ancient weapons manifested. 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. For this very purpose have we been born, O bringer of happiness to the virtuous: to remove the burden of the earth, known as these twenty-three armies.” Having consulted together, the two sons of Dasharha, resolute and armed for battle as in times of old, set out, equipped with their weapons and accompanied by a small force. Hari, with Daruka as his charioteer, blew his mighty conch as he set forth. At that sound, terror and trembling arose in the hearts of the enemy soldiers. Upon seeing them, the king of Magadha, Jarāsandha, mocked, saying, “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, Rāma, if you have any courage, fight and show your valor. 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.” Śuka continued: The son of Jara then rushed at the two Madhavas, surrounding them with a mighty host—chariots, elephants, horses, and banners—like the wind enveloping the sun and fire with clouds of dust. The women of Mathurā, seeing the two chariots of Hari and Rāma, adorned with the emblems of Garuḍa and the palm tree, in the midst of battle, took refuge in the ancient towers, palaces, and gateways, overcome with grief and confusion. Hari, seeing his own army—honored by gods and demons alike—repeatedly afflicted by the fierce rain of arrows from the enemy host, sounded his supreme Śārṅga bow with a thunderous twang, signaling the beginning of the great battle.