Wealth gained through unrighteous means, it is said, is soon lost to others who lack true understanding—just as leeches, feigning friendship, draw away the water of life. Further, a man who, lacking discernment, gives support to others in a way that is not righteous, finds that his very life, his wealth, his children, and his companions all abandon him, leaving his hopes unfulfilled. Having taken the burden of sin upon himself and forsaken by those he tried to help unwisely, such a person, failing in his purpose, turns away from his own proper duty and enters into darkness. Therefore, O King, consider this world as no more than a dream, a mere illusion, a play of fantasy. Know your own self by yourself, and cultivate equanimity and peace, O master. Hearing these words, Dhṛtarāṣṭra replied, “O lord of charity, your auspicious words are as nectar to my ears, and I am never satisfied by them, just as no mortal is ever sated by tasting ambrosia. 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. For who 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 mysterious power, creates this world, divides the qualities, and then enters into his own creation—unto him, the Supreme Lord, whose play is beyond comprehension and who moves within the wheel of worldly existence, I offer my respects.” Śuka then narrated that, understanding the king’s intention, that great Yadava, 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 regarding the Pāṇḍavas, for which he had been sent. And so 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 Kaṁsa, were stricken with grief at the death of their husband. They went to the house of their father, Jarāsandha, king of Magadha, and, filled with sorrow, revealed to him the cause of their widowhood. Hearing this bitter news, Jarāsandha was overwhelmed by grief and anger. Moved by vengeance, he resolved to destroy the Yadava clan. Gathering a mighty force—twenty-three akṣauhiṇīs of soldiers—he surrounded Mathurā, the capital of the Yadus, on every side. Seeing this vast army, swelling like the ocean, and his own city besieged, with 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 thought: “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. These armies, counted by akṣauhiṇīs with their soldiers, horses, chariots, and elephants, must be destroyed. Yet, the king of Magadha himself should not 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 assumed another body for the protection of dharma, and, whenever adharma arises at certain times, for its cessation.” As Govinda was thus contemplating, suddenly, from the sky, two radiant chariots appeared, shining like the sun, complete with drivers and all their 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, which is known as these twenty-three armies.” Thus, after consulting 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. Seeing them, the king of Magadha mocked, saying, “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 continued: The son of Jara then rushed at the two Madhavas, surrounding them with a mighty host of 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—repeatedly afflicted by the fierce rain of arrows from the enemy host, sounded his supreme Sharnga bow with a thunderous twang. Then, 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. In that battle, Sankarshana, of immeasurable brilliance, wielding his mace, struck down the arrogant foes, causing terror among the timid and joy among the brave, as the warriors destroyed each other. That army, vast and dreadful as a sea of fire, guarded by the king of Magadha and seemingly insurmountable, was utterly destroyed by the sons of Vasudeva, whose play is supreme in the world. He whose power, infinite in qualities, brings about the creation, maintenance, and destruction of the three worlds by his own play—there is nothing remarkable in his subduing of enemies; yet, for the sake of mortals, it is described.