Vidura, wise and impartial, addressed King Dhṛtarāṣṭra with earnest counsel. He warned the king that acting otherwise—favoring his own sons over the Pāṇḍavas—would bring condemnation and lead him into darkness. Vidura urged him to remain impartial toward both the Pāṇḍavas and his sons, reminding him of the impermanence of all worldly associations. In this world, he said, no one enjoys perpetual companionship—not even with one’s own body, let alone wife, sons, or others. Vidura continued: each being is born alone and dies alone; alone one experiences the fruits of good deeds, and alone also bears the consequences of evil. Wealth acquired unrighteously is seized by others lacking wisdom, just as leeches take water under the pretense of friendship. One who, without discernment, supports others unrighteously, finds himself abandoned by his life, wealth, sons, and associates, his efforts unfulfilled. Having accumulated sin and forsaken by those for whom he was not wise, such a person, failing in his purpose and neglecting his own duty, enters blind darkness. Therefore, Vidura advised, seeing this world as a dream, illusion, and fantasy, the king should know himself by himself, and be equal-minded and peaceful. Dhṛtarāṣṭra replied, expressing his deep appreciation for Vidura’s auspicious words, saying he was never satisfied by them, just as a mortal is never satisfied upon tasting nectar. Yet, he confessed, though such words are sweet, they do not remain steady in the heart when it is restless with the poison of attachment to one’s children, just as lightning does not linger in the sky. Dhṛtarāṣṭra reflected on the will of the Lord, acknowledging that no one can overturn it. The Supreme Lord had descended in the Yadu dynasty to relieve the earth’s burden. By his inscrutable power, he creates the world, divides its qualities, and enters into it. To that Supreme Lord, whose play is beyond comprehension and who moves within the wheel of worldly existence, Dhṛtarāṣṭra offered his respects. Śuka then narrated that, understanding the king’s intentions, the Yadava—who had been permitted by his friends—returned to the city of the Yadus. There, he reported to Rāma and Kṛṣṇa all that Dhṛtarāṣṭra had done regarding the Pāṇḍavas, for which he himself had been sent. Thus concluded the forty-ninth chapter of the first half of the tenth book in the Śrīmad Bhāgavata Mahāpurāṇa, the scripture for the paramahaṃsas. Śuka continued: Asti and Prāpti, the wives of Kaṃsa, grieving over the death of their husband, went to their father’s house. To their father, Jarāsandha, the king of Magadha, who was deeply distressed, they revealed everything—the cause of their widowhood. Hearing this painful news, Jarāsandha, filled with grief and anger, resolved to destroy the Yadava clan. He gathered an immense force—twenty akṣauhiṇīs and three more—and besieged Mathurā, capital of the Yadus, on all sides. Seeing the army swelling like the ocean, his city surrounded, and his people fearful, Kṛṣṇa pondered the situation. Lord Hari, in his human form, reflected upon the purpose of his descent, considering the time, place, and circumstances. He resolved: “I will destroy this force, gathered as a burden upon the earth by the king of Magadha from all the subjugated rulers. The armies, counted by akṣauhiṇīs, with soldiers, horses, chariots, and elephants, are to be destroyed, but the king of Magadha should not 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. Another body is assumed by me for the protection of dharma, and, when adharma arises at certain times, for its cessation.” As Govinda thus meditated, suddenly two chariots, radiant as the sun, appeared from the sky, complete with drivers and all equipment. Divine, ancient weapons also appeared by chance; seeing them, Hṛṣīkeśa spoke to Saṅkarṣaṇa: “Behold, O noble one, the calamity that has befallen the Yadus. 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 consulted together, the two sons of Dasharha, resolute 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; at its sound, terror and trembling arose in the hearts of the enemy soldiers. Upon seeing them, Jarāsandha, king of Magadha, taunted Kṛṣṇa: “O Krishna, lowest of men, I do not wish to fight with 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.” Śuka narrated: 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, seeing the two chariots of Hari and Rama, marked with the emblems of Garuda 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—afflicted again and again by the fierce rain of arrows from the enemy host, sounded his supreme Sharnga bow with a thunderous twang. Drawing arrows from his quiver, stringing and releasing volleys of sharp shafts, he struck down chariots, elephants, horses, and foot soldiers, while the whirling discus never left his hand. Elephants with shattered tusks fell in great numbers; horses, their necks severed by arrows, collapsed; chariots, with their horses, banners, drivers, and leaders slain, and foot soldiers with arms, thighs, and necks cut, lay scattered. As the limbs of elephants, horses, and men were severed, rivers of blood flowed in hundreds, filled with arms, horse heads, human skulls, and turtle-like torsos, crowded with the corpses of slain elephants, horses, and warriors. These rivers had waves of arms, hair as waterweeds, bows as currents, and were choked with clusters of weapons. Their terrifying whirlpools were formed by spinning swords, and they sparkled with gems, pearls, ornaments, and stones, bearing witness to the ferocity and grandeur of the battle.